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Time - Evolution in the midst of time growing rapidly,
Growth - Evolving the smallest cell and seed
Power - Into a giant stone chunk of wood,
Stretching its mutinous legs
Throughout the soft peaceful ground of sound.
The life of a wavy wallowy willow on an ONP hill
Is a long, dark and lonely life,
Standing there all alone,
With nothing but the cold black demented worms
squirming and
Squishing between this Treebird!=s lost sad sappy
toes.
Bleeding emotionally
Aging intellectually
Dying intensively
So lonely nothing dares to see or touch a tree,
For a tree is a mere piece of paper you dare to look and draw upon,
Only the light blue dancing sky and soft gentle creations
Dare to roam through the fingertips of a green standing heaven
Above a world that seems so far away,
Graceful tree bird embraces its face of intense happiness
For nothing and no one can bring him down,
He lives alone in a spot upon the hill.
Away from the rest
Away from the bunch
Away from a life that never gets punched
So sad but yet so happy,
No friends but yet still a child,
No pain but yet a broken heart,
It is only clear now
That the clear sticky blood that runs from above
Comes from a love that hides in the wind
Mocking a soul
Of untouched happiness.
Jon
The First Recess
Standing away from the crowd,
You hunker in lonesome sorrow
As the others frolic and dance.
Buried from the waist down in tears,
The only friends around are the grasses of imagination.
Your knots of expression slip away
As leafing locks flutter to the ground.
Your branch like fingers
Cover your sadness
Until a singing sapling sprouts
From the earth below you.
Swaying within the cottonwoods,
Your leaves of gold turn into brown,
But your worries have disappeared.
You!=ve found a new friend,
One just like you,
Who has come from a life of depression
To brighten your day
And send your worries away.
Some friends may sprout strong,
And some will wither away in the wind.
But the ones like you, who know who you really are,
Will stay by your side
Until the harsh winters
Put you to a frosty funeral.
Even then, they will fall by your rotted remains
And mourn for you until next spring,
When a new sprout will appear and be their friend.
Tessa
Old, with many stories to tell,
I carry my thin, manly rankled arms with great pride.
Plump are my feet reaching deep down in the ground.
I bend while standing up swaying in the wind.
I sleep with a frozen face
Lying around, brave, and dying.
With my rough face looking at the grass so smooth.
Jealously is my heart looking and envying the
Wind so free uncovering treasures from dust.
The ground comforts me for it is my friend.
My dwelling is the oaks
With surrounding friends.
Mother nature created my tough trunk.
While I am dehydrated with my arms discolored, finding out
My dried out body is now shriveled.
Old is my face as I see the new
Living,
I capture the last breath of wind that blows through
My hair.
And it is wonderful.
Lisa
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