Poetry Blog by Jill Ashforth (trees)

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Blaikie Wood

The traffic fumes and roars, deafening my thoughts.

Bark glistens in wrinkled folds with charcoal accents, smudged.

An electric blue flashes cool and a flood of beauty washes over me

as dark, emerald burrs softly quiver.

A wall of trees shields and deadens all sounds.

Silence beckons me.

 

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beautysilencetraffictreeswood

Norwegian Wood

I walk amongst the trees but who is there to hear?

I whisper and let my voice rustle the leaves until their tremors cease.

Hoarse and weary, not heard, not seen, I wonder if I have ever been. 

A Norwegian hillside, a Norwegian wood, I sing your song.

Hear me.

There is much talking but who is there ever to hear?

In life, I roar silently as people pass, unseeing.

Soundless, I mo...

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Norwegiannot listeningsilencetreeswood

Sunrises

Pink tendrils trail

the sky, gathering

in a salmon cloud

of dusky smoke.

Dark brush strokes

of lilac sweep the

skyline, getting lost

in the tangle of

inky branches

silhouetting the sky.

A morass of interwoven 

trunks, like a spider's web

gone wild and

overgrown.

So delicate, so

soon lost,

evaporated, nothing but

a memory in

the heart and soul.

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memoriessunrisetrees

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