tree – Havoc and Consequence

skeleton in a filed with flowers growing through (painting)

Trespass

With such vulnerability, invites a trample uponess.
A doormat heart and soul.
What systems are in place which assuages this overthinking.
The flux between sun and moon.
Deliver me soon and unspool my wondering mind.
For it lingers in the doubt and the weeds.
Growing like sycamore sentiments which climb to the sky.
Bursting the clouds with their ignorant distrust.
Lay me down in the cool peaceful meadows of your kindness.
Wash me once more with tears and understanding.
I know not how I became covered in dust and dirt.
A hatred for self and suspicion of all.
Maybe the fall before, when my heart was pedestaled and annihilated.
Perhaps it grew back broken.
A bone and an organ riddled with weakness.
But grown back from nothing all the same.

02/05/202502/05/2025 by Mark Ryan Categories: heart, tree, trustTags: broken, clouds, distrust, heart, hurt, kindness, moon, poem, Poetry, sky, soul, sun, tears, trees, trespass, trust 3 Comments

Dying Day

Down in the marrow.
Deep in the bone.
Devils and gods, are looking for homes.
Behind every thought.
Nestled in a lie.
The Light of creation is trying to fly.
Slip out of the house.
And down an overgrown path.
Deep in the forests, where untainted angels laugh.
You’ll see once again,.
A stripped away realm.
Buzzing with dreams among chestnuts and elms.
Take off the world.
That drenches your soul.
Disappear here and grow happy and old.
And I will tell tales,
Of who you once were.
It’ll frighten the children if spoken in whisper.
For the ghosts of you,
Is all that remains.
Your skeleton now dances in light without chains.

30/08/2024 by Mark Ryan Categories: end, fairy tales, treeTags: devils, dying, escape, fairytales, forest, god, life, myth, Old, pixie, poem, Poetry, spirit, tale, trees 8 Comments

Lonely tree

In the forest, all alone.
My lonely tree feels cold as stone.
Surrounded everywhere by its branches.
That bend and twist to their own advantage.
They shake in the wind, and shiver in sadness.
Sunken in a disturbing madness.
Until one day you came into the woods.
Scared the animals and riding hood.
Yet the wolves they ran, and hid like rabbits.
Convoluted out of their own bad habits.
And into my glade you stepped so proudly.
And struck a match and yelled out loudly:
“Love is a flame that burns us under!”
And as quick as lightening, you lit me like thunder.
So my lonely tree, burned quick and sadly.
And I faded away, into death quite gladly.

27/07/202212/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: death, fire, treeTags: animals, art, depression, fairytales, fire, flame, forest, hurting, lightening, lonely, poem, Poetry, riding hood, sad, thunder, tree, wolves, woods 4 Comments

Reaching roots

How deep do these roots need to burrow?
While the wind of the world shakes and batters.
Down deep, past dinosaur bones and bits of myself.
Long forgotten memories and names no longer remembered.
Roots of strength, yet they strangle the small and struggling.
Little sprouts of new dreams which begin deep in the dark of my soul.
Waiting, for just the tiniest flash of light.
Yet the roots need to be strong.
For it’s much further to go on.
And this tree is desperate to reach up to heaven.

13/10/202107/10/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: heaven, treasure, treeTags: art, bones, devil, dinosaur, dreams, god, poem, Poetry, rain, storm, storms, tree, wind 2 Comments