875 posts
  • in_fragments 1w

    Been depressed, fighting thoughts of suicide lately, thinking about all the trees I used to climb, how they're changing mostly for the worst. These cycles come and go for me- on Unbearable Depression Mode in this poem. But at least I have to stay alive to write a poem about dying. Even when they're horrific and sad, the words keep me here every single day. I can never stop for too long.

    If any you are experiencing these same scary things, be sure not to keep it bottled in. Talk to someone you trust and love, express it in a journal or a piece of art, find a therapist who can help guide you out of the darkness. You deserve to discover the light that's waiting for you. ��
    #pod #narrative #poem #thoughts #nature #trees #life #death #suicide #suicideawareness #depression #recovery @miraquill @writersnetwork @writersbay

    Read More

    Death Is A Tree In The Suburbs

    P̟a̟r̟t̟ O̟n̟e̟: R̟e̟f̟l̟e̟c̟t̟i̟o̟n̟s̟
    In my backyard,
    in this modern townhouse suburb,
    where the alleyways are grassy
    and venerable earth
    lies suffocated by cement;
    where evergreen pines and maple trees
    loom loftily over our homes;
    the scent of homemade barbeque
    wafts its way around,
    and children scream out in play,
    racing each other
    through their cul-de-sacs,
    circling back by the end of the day.

    Right now, the morning sun
    is arriving tall across our doors,
    bringing both disturbance
    and opportunity in its golden eye.
    My sight is becoming more obscured
    by the old tree outside my window-
    the one my parents planted
    when they moved in, 30 years before
    a future like mine was on their minds.
    It used to be so small,
    like every infant sapling, now it towers
    over every roof and moving horizon,
    clipping every sun ray
    behind the veins of large leaves...

    A grand, developed elm tree
    on the other side of our street;
    standing sure rooted
    next to the house on the end-
    the tree we would voraciously climb
    when we were loud, intrepid children,
    paying no mind
    to the old lady living inside; the one
    who screamed at us for climbing
    every time we tried,
    until the year she died
    and we had no idea. All we had known
    was that our favorite tree was back-
    because the old lady was dead,
    her home abandoned,
    and we were far too young
    to notice the peculiar change.

    Time doesn't wait for you
    to notice it, like the sky which races
    in circles at a speed too fast to feel,
    like the trees that keep growing
    without checking in for permission.
    Death is a tree in the suburbs-
    one too large to keep curated,
    so it is stunted or cut down; and Life
    is a pernicious vine,
    pestering the cracks in the sidewalk
    as it breaks its way through them,
    growing high and away from concrete
    or along the sides of wooden sheds;
    always going up, and up, and up...
    because nature may
    be dying at our hands- even still,
    it always wins out in the end.

    I wonder how high
    these tree branches will take me...
    Maybe up into the clouds,
    if I never, ever stop.
    Scaling their thick limbs, sitting midair
    is the closest we can come
    to flying without steel wings.
    What stands between Life and Death
    is air, and a body to get you up there-
    skin and bone, between tree and vine,
    surrounded by sky; the realm
    where life and death conjoin...

    P̟a̟r̟t̟ T̟w̟o̟: I̟d̟e̟a̟t̟i̟o̟n̟s̟
    I don't climb anymore.
    I've been too exhausted for decades.
    Now I grumble and bend and ache
    like the trees here do;
    one side of themselves trimmed
    completely away,
    half-dead with hardly a chance,
    and the stern winds pushing
    their branches close to snapping.
    Death is a tree in the suburbs-
    every one I've fallen from,
    every one that taught me
    how to feel alive-
    we continue to kill them,
    and I continue to die with them.
    It was all so different
    when we were younger.
    Now I helplessly watch it all oscillate,
    I get older, feel more ruinous,
    with less reason to be alive.
    The trees awaken towards the sun,
    they beckon me to climb my favorite one,
    they whisper this, "If you would die
    to see the beauty of this world
    one more time, then what have you
    to lose?"

    What have I to lose?

    P̟a̟r̟t̟ T̟h̟r̟e̟e̟: T̟h̟e̟ S̟p̟l̟i̟t̟-S̟e̟c̟o̟n̟d̟ S̟n̟a̟p̟
    Death is a tree in the suburbs,
    and I, a tired child, am listening-
    clamoring and ascending it,
    falling one last time for it.
    I climb, and I climb,
    going up, and up, and up,
    clutching the timbered boughs so tightly
    they etch imprints into my palms.
    I watch the final stage of the sunrise
    through decaying orange leaves
    and empty bird's nests,
    a hundred feet up or more.
    I watch the sky bleed its colors,
    turning into familiar, beautiful cerulean.
    I hear the birds begin their chirping,
    closer and sharper than from land.
    I wonder if they are speaking to me.
    I wonder if they are confused,
    intrigued, unconcerned.
    I observe the morning dew drops dancing
    on my wild wooden throne,
    forming like gems on my face
    and on the green grass below.
    One more breath, and the vertigo begins.
    I inhale again and feel myself
    smile as I sway, close my eyes
    and relax...
    then one more long exhale
    as the tree branch holding me
    abruptly snaps.

    It allows me to fall so rapidly,
    before my brain can rush to meet it-
    a ragdoll body flying downwards
    out of the sunlight,
    landing with a rigid crash
    deep into the immense shade of fate-
    with no one to watch it go but the birds,
    the trees, hidden insects, the sky,
    and the eye of the rising sun.
    It is a most cathartic drop for all.

  • sarthak_shah7 1w


    Nature doesn't need humans but humans need nature to exist on this earth.
    Save nature , infact save yourself ....


  • realityvision 2w

    How Trees are always Happy?
    #trees #happy #motivation #realityvision

    Read More

    How Trees are always Happy?

    Trees are always happy why because it's job is to blossom flower, grow fruits it doesn't bother about environment and also doesn't compare with neighbouring tree on number of fruits, likewise always be happy set your own goals and walk towards your goals, nature helps to create environment around you as per your path. Have a nice day

  • in_fragments 4w

    This was inspired by one of @murryben's old profile pics, (the one with the girl who had the flowers and stems covering her chest lol) reimagined in a more grotesque way for Halloween. Sorry I got it out late, concussion and whiplash symptoms had me feeling not so great all month �� But I managed to get this one written up now, and even though spooky season is over, peoples' love of horror lasts all year! ���� I hope you all hold yourselves tight and enjoy!
    #pod #poem #stories #trees #nature #bones #life #death @miraquill @writersnetwork @writersbay

    Read More

    Flower Girl, Sliced Down
    The Middle

    Inside the hollow tree,
    she pushes through layers of bark,
    sapped body lying still for the last time
    as disturbed bugs run along her face
    and wriggle through
    her cracked sternum-
    until out of the dead stump
    she emerges.

    She propels herself
    with her chest, hands and arms-
    all skeletal with bloodless,
    powder blue skin peeling off
    from her body like a sheet.
    No nails to grip, she stabs at the dirt-
    moans and groans, screams and grieves
    as the cold, wintry air hits
    every exposed vein,
    various tendons and bones-
    each side of skin, flapping in the wind,
    struck by a long chill like needles,
    pricking her blue breasts
    and the frozen, open skin behind them.
    Many beasts cut her open,
    sliced her naked down the middle;
    they tore her pelvis apart
    and buried her here, left for dead-
    but it is here where she chose
    to grow instead- inside this old tree
    that's seen centuries of activity,
    a dying home she wants to leave.

    She finds hope in the flowers
    that grew up into her rib cage,
    past her violated vulva,
    around her sordid feet, they laid roots
    in the thirsty, welcoming soil.
    The wild bouquet
    climbs up beyond her eyes,
    and she observes her new realm
    through flowers and stems and thorns.
    She pulls herself out
    into the weeded world,
    but still isn't strong enough
    to pull up every root she laid.
    A million sit, tangled up and cloistered
    within the stygian and sunken tree;
    but some, she notices, run deeper
    under the undisturbed
    and forgotten land
    that surrounds her.

    One day she will be able
    to use her body endlessly,
    to bring her color back by the vitality
    of the sun, soaking up water
    into her roots, just like the flowers do,
    garnering energy and life
    from the aura of the forest,
    now that she's freshly found it.
    As her body continues to blossom
    and the flowers grow even higher,
    she picks some out of her chest
    and creates things with them,
    in spite of the horrific agony
    of the pulling.

    She will prosper greatly
    after all the pain, find her way,
    and reverse her aversions
    to her own body-  because without
    much help, she brought herself back
    from the dead, she found
    the sunlight again, after decades
    of gruesome searching.
    She continues to grow
    in intense integrity, in suffocation,
    in the depths of dirt and mud,
    feet away from the melodic creek-
    working hard for the day
    she will finally float down it... free.

  • drishty_das 5w


    To the one flying far away,
    I hope you see sunsets
    more beautiful than here.
    I hope the wind, rain and snow
    are kind to you
    when you fly to places
    you've always wished to go.

    I hope people love and adore you
    for your heart and kindness
    because they will be lucky to have you,
    as I am.
    I hope you fly and reach your greatest heights
    and build a nest on a tree with flowers.
    I hope when you get lost
    you always find your way.

    And when one day you visit me
    I hope you tell me
    all about your adventures
    around the world.
    I hope under your wings,
    with foreign smell of wind and trees,
    you still feel like home


  • greeshma_p_varghese 8w


    Travelling down the lane,
    At the rise of dawn,
    Surrounded by the magnificent beauty
    Without any locks.
    She seems to be young
    Even when her barks are hard and dark.
    Her alluring beauty jinx the street
    And the nature fall in heels for her.
    With a smile she bedazzled the streets
    And stands proudly.
    As the favourite of the nature.
    With a breeze do her petals fall
    Yet she stands cheerfully
    Swaying her little branches.
    Her root pierces into the earth.
    But her head is held high
    Oh... Its a mystery to see the vivid colour
    Cast by the glittering rays.
    She in her hands
    Are those little birds
    Who chirrup in talking
    Flame tree do some say
    But beauty tree do I say.
    The Gulmohar leads a path
    Into the horizon.
    There I stand not knowing
    Where I am onto the end.
    I wish no one wakes me up
    I still have to explore more
    And reach the end
    Till the path leads on.

  • llewravenpoetry 9w

    I greet this tree on my road most days and love to watch it change with the seasons ����

    A lone Maple tree
    I watch your leaves burn then fall
    Order is restored

    #mapletree #haiku #trees #poetry #amwriting #writersnetwork #nature #inspiration #autumn #september #poem #womenwriters #womenpoets #art #create #writerslife #micropoetry #mumpoetclub #mumlife #maternityleave #twoundertwo #readwriteunite #poet #miraquil

    Read More

    A lone Maple tree
    I watch your leaves burn then fall
    Order is restored


  • myleswalkerjr 10w

    Feeling Relieved By The Leaves

    As long as there are women beautiful like the flowers in a garden

    They will always be forgiven for seeing me as useful within a market

    If I was a tree

    You wouldn't be able to fly up there and build your nest for free

    If the green is telling you to go

    Then the red should be telling you no

    Because I'm six feet tall

    Born in the midst of warm heat during fall

    So what's the use of any chilling beliefs if you can't answer them piece by piece?

    Don't you wanna rank them as you're raking them and feeling relieved by the leaves?


  • claralynne 11w

    "Dirty LeaveS"

    Dirty leaves
    I feel like I'm always down.
    I have found home on the ground.
    Eerie silent sound of death all around.
    Summer grieves...
    Silence broken by the breeze.
    It's moments like that where I can finally breathe.
    Feeling so heavy, I manage to look up.
    Parched, I wait for the rain to fill my cup.
    Dry dirt and dirty hands, I bury my sorrows.
    Longing for sunny tomorrows.
    But it will be cold soon.
    And the trees will soon dance nude.
    Something about that is beautiful to me.
    A comforting sight to see.
    Trees become light dancing in the night.
    On a dirt floor.
    That will soon be white.
    Oh, what a ravishing sight.
    Days to come filled with more grey..
    Ghostly, unremarkable.
    I can only hope the silver lining shines bright.
    I hope the cold days to come don't make me too numb.
    And that I continue to see the beauty of the mother that is Earth.
    And that my knees don't give out before spring's birth.
    I hope I hear the sweet of songs of new life .
    And that the chilling sound of death fades into the past.
    And that the dirty leaves leave...and are replaced with vibrant, green blades of grass.
    I'm down on my knees.
    I just don't know how much longer these knees can last.

  • in_fragments 13w

    What are you gonna do to help the trees today? It's easy not to care when you are blind to the needs of the trees.
    #pod #poem #world #life #trees #plants #climatechange #thoughts #inspiration @miraquill @writersnetwork @writersbay

    Read More

    The Feeling Wood
    (Trees Hold History)

    Some hundred year old guardians- the trees;
    grown out from the roots of time,
    they've witnessed so much of war and beauty,
    looming, tall and divine-
    and their stumpy graves, bled of all glories,
    mankind will never let it end;
    cutting them down, all digging and deadly,
    delivering our decline.

    Look down and count the rings of the body,
    how long was it allowed to live?
    For decades, maybe 30 or 40,
    I lean in closer to inspect the signs;
    they carry scars like me, hold history,
    burns from forgotten wildfires-
    possess awareness we can never see,
    senses we don't realize.

    They feel the climate shift around their leaves,
    gawk at how we've ushered in
    complete and untimely catastrophe
    to change the course of our lifetimes.

    There's hope in humanity's new energy,
    their seeds and growing slivers-
    each tree allowed to form is victory,
    freshly planted, seeking light
    from the blazing sun, heats up a few degrees-
    the warmth is only getting worse;
    we live on and need be the remedy
    until we're swallowed by fire with the pines.

    Trees grow in layers, form in harmony
    like cells regenerate in us-
    we must keep planting past the debris;
    protect their future and ours,
    so when I die, bury me underneath
    a brand new tree, no coffin-
    my decomposing infinities
    will endow this soil with love.

  • anjalishukla03 15w


    Change is necessary.
    It is because of change a
    seed turns into a giant tree.

  • sugandhswani_ 16w

    It's the trees..

    It's the trees...
    It’s always been the trees,
    That whisper sweet nothings to the skies,
    Hold the secrets of the birds,
    Telling the tales of the leaves that fell...
    And make love to the winds at night,
    Standing tall to comfort you...
    In the sun, In the rain,
    And in happiness and pain...

    10th August

  • theiva_ 18w


    Selfish people removed selfless trees
    For oxygen they are paying fees
    Trees provided food to eat
    We recreated them to wooden seat.

  • shaabie 19w

    And one on the summer flowering trees of Delhi that were giving me some major nostalgia.

    @hindiwriters @writersnetwork

    #may #summer #hindi #amaltas #kachnar #palas #january #pod #love #ishq #rain #hindiwriters #flowers #trees #Delhi #nostalgia

    Read More


    बूंदों को जो तरसे मई, तू बारिश की आस होना,
    लूँ परेशां रात काटते इश्क़ में अमलतास होना।

    स्याहि-पन्ने रूठे सभी तो कचनार के सूखे पत्तों पर लिखना,
    लाल गेरु के शब्दों से पहली फुहार की सौंधी मिठास होना।

    छोटी बड़ी ख्वाइशें साँची, जैसे सपने वैसे ढलना,
    टूटी छुटी नींद के तकिये में सेमल का कपास होना।

    कोयलों से हो धुँआ बस, और बुझा सा हो जुनूं 'शाबी',
    फूल से तू उधार लेना शम्मे, बीहड़ में भी पलास होना।

    जनवरी में अब कहाँ ये गुल सारे फिर खिलेंगे,
    आँखों में तू होना मई बाहर चाहे जमी ओस होना।

  • santhoshimmidisettystories 21w

    #life #rain #beautiful #nature #trees #telugu #teluguquotes #తెలుగు #telugukavitha #తెలుగుకవిత #కవిత #amma

    Read More

    వర్షం కురిసిన వేళ...

    సూర్యడు ఛాతిలోంచి భగ భగ మండుతూ భువి కి చేరుతున్న కిరాణాల్ని అడ్డుకుంటున్న కారుమబ్బులు ఆకాశం నిండా కమ్మేసాయి.
    ఆకాశం నల్ల రంగు పులుముకుంది.
    నల్లటి మబ్బులు మధ్య తెల్లటి మెరుపులు.
    చిటపట చినుకులు పడుతున్నాయి, మృధువైన మట్టి సువాసన ముక్కులోకి చొచ్చుకుపోతుంది.
    సముద్రంలో కెరటాలు వలె ఎగిసి ఎగిసి పడుతున్న ఎద లో సరదాలని మది మౌనంగా మందలించి మట్టి కల్పిస్తుంది.
    చల్ల చల్లని వాతావరణంలో వేడి వేడి అమ్మ చేతి పకోడీలా ఉంది ఆ దృశ్యం.
    చల్లని వాతావరణంలో వెచ్చని అమ్మ ఒడిలో రేపటి గురించి ఆలోచన లేని పసిపాప బోసినోరు మీద తియ్యని, కమ్మని, కల్మషం లేని నవ్వుల ఉంది ఆ దృశ్యం.


  • anuradhasharma 22w

    अपना आशियां खो , कोई तुमसे जीना सीखें ।
    अपनो को गवां , कोई तुमसे चुप रहना सीखें ।
    अपने चोट को छुपा , कोई तुमसे मुस्कुराना सीखें ।
    अपने बच्चों से दूर , कोई तुमसे गम खाना सीखें ।
    अपनी खुशबू लूटा , कोई तुमसे महकाना सीखें ।
    अपने आसूं ठेहरा , कोई तुमसे बहना सीखें ।
    अपने जलने की फिक्र छोड़ , ठंडक देना सीखें ।
    अपना दर्द छुपा , बेपनाह इश्क़ बाटना सीखें ।
    अपने से जुदा को भी , शामिल करना सीखें ।

  • shanthi_yella 23w


    The era from traditional pen writing to digital writing.

    Save papers save trees

  • ericwinnert 23w

    A saw a thing and wrote a poem

    #skin as #trees #oldage gets us all

    @@writersnetwork #writersnetwork

    Read More

    Insidious Slash

    The slash on the bark reminds me
    Of the slash on my skin
    That hideous ugly thing
    Caused by an insidious disease.

    That stealthy creeping disease
    That crept across my skin
    Threatening to devour me
    Limb after limb
    In the way poisonous fungus
    Covers trunk after trunk

    Of dark old trees
    In thick black woodlands
    born from the ancient seeds
    Of benevolent beings
    Before a time of love and pain.

    But a good doctor
    cut the disease
    And drained the
    Rank puss
    away from the
    Whithering skin -
    A skin that encases a worn heart.

    But the wound healed badly,
    Creating a scar of hard gnarled tissue;

    The slash of my disfigured skin
    reminded me of that bark
    On a time battered ash.


  • pradamr 25w

    A weeping tree

    Hey, brutal man,
    Don't chop me,
    It is so painful.
    Sap inside me is my blood,
    Don't let the sap within me
    To flow out.

    God send me to the earth,
    To stand up for your life,
    But you don't want me.
    In search of money,
    You totally forgot yourself and
    Always living for money.

    How lucky you're,
    You have got such a wonderful nature,
    But she is weeping,
    I can hear that.
    All because of you man!
    Your brutality!

    What you are doing to us,
    Is a mirror of reflection,
    Of what you are doing to yourselves,
    And to one another!
    When will you stop this?
    Why you are hurting us so much?

    I know, because we are dumb,
    We can't respond,
    We can't complain,
    We can't runaway,
    But we also have emotions,
    Like you man!

    - Amritha Pradeep

  • piyushalbus 26w


    गले से लगाया हो जिसने उसके हर दरख़्त को,
    हक़दार वही है 'नफ्र', जंगल की मोहब्बत का ।