The Forest that Never Ends

It was a chilly dawn at the forest that never ends. The gurgle of the nearby stream and the sound of the singing trees, lulled the tired pixies to sleep. However, Mr.Woody Woodpecker was pecking away at a gigantic redwood tree, one sliver of bark at a time, just like he would want his troubles to go away.

In the distant east, a band of scrawny runaway girls were making merry in the dead of the night, singing the tunes of the forest and dancing to the rhythm of the humming leaves. Alice, in her feather cap and leafy clothes walked away from the merry band of girls and just walked, not wanting to return. She needed new friends who would care for her.

Now, Alice had walked miles and miles, in circles, squares and triangles and her stomach was growling in hunger.She was resting under a nearby redwood tree and she heard " Knock Knock Knock Knock", Mr. Woody pecking away at the top of the tree.  " Mr. Woody, Mr Woody... Please come down, I want to speak to you" called Alice and the knocking stopped. Mr. Woody flew down to the patch of grass where Alice was sitting. " Yes my dear girl, what do you need?" asked Woody and Alice replied " I need an apple and a friend".

" I can give you an apple, but I can't be your friend" said Woody and a forlorn Alice asked " why not, Mr Woody?".

Woody let out a heavy sigh... " because I tend to get too close to people, Alice and then they go away. I don't want you to go away so you can sit here and I'll fly back up and let's just be".

" Mr. Woody!" Alice called him back as she reached out for his beak.

" You don't have to be alone, because I was once like you,lost, but now I found you. We can give strength to each other and care for each other too".

Alice hugged Mr. Woody and they ate an apple together basking in the morning sunlight, leaking through the spaces between the dense redwood leaves. 

It was a beautiful morning at the forest that never ends and the pixies all danced merrily.

To Poetry

It seems so long

since lead grazed a papyrus dark

to try to make meaning

to emote.

So long

that it feels almost forgotten

buried deep by the tides of meaning

And willed neuronal plasticity.

Oh dear poetry,

Oh beautiful muse, oh bride divine,

I miss your gushing out of a loosely held, loosely led piece of chalk

Your emergence

With no see-able cause but some eddies of life

And your birth

Though imperfect in correspondence (to an ideal)

so complete in yourself

Waving your sense of purpose and contentment-

over your so called author.

Weaving yourself into your own creations

Creating, animating-

Coding, executing

Architecting possible worlds

complete, coherent, sound

Oh poetry,

Come back, please...

I await on my knee

With a ring beheld towards thee

With expectance and honesty, humble, but with no humility-

Will you marry me?

**

(I'd written this a long time ago. Forgotten, it lay maturing in my file. It seemed apt that I post this now, now that it had lost feeling and depth, and yet, not untimely)

Stale Sweat

Sound of a rattling window
Smell of stale sweat,
Hovers oppressively,
Choking me,
On this bus
On a journey
to the golden place
where I came to fill my heart.
Instead,
There is an awkward heaviness
that has enveloped me,
enough,
for an exposed armpit
to leave me bitter and nauseous.

There is nowhere, to vomit
and eject the pain.