verse

Unfinished Verdant Verse

The forest knows not its majesty
though mankind may seek her end
his verdant mother’s dynasty
will its inheritance defend

and though her will
be not to kill
her errant progeny
a waiting grave
is for him saved
beneath her fallen leaves

The forest knows not fragility
though mankind may think that way
fate be the greenwood’s dynasty
to reign long past his days.

Dreams of Poppies


are we but the narcotic dreams
from ancient poppies ground between
the the pestles and the galipots
of medieval alchemists?
and as such dreams may we partake
of conscious pleasures when we wake
to wander freely in the light?
oft denied us by the night
but what is truth, what may we see
to hold as our reality?
Is this existence all it seems
could we be more than fleeting dreams?