Some Poems And Maybe A Story

[JollyGreenFox]

Flowering Death


Death is like a wilting flower
 Pedals fall until the last Pedal of life has dropped
 Dying amongst the living as the flower wilts
 Dying slowly as Other Flowers Watch in pain an in Sorrow
 But as the elder flower dies a new one is birthed
 Slowly the pedals fall to the ground one by one
 The flame of life slowly dims but the body still remains
 Life is just a beautiful lie as death is a painful truth

When i wrote this one it was Last Year on Thanksgiving, My best-freind OD'ed

[MaskaTheOtter]

Wow that is truly powerful. As someone who is connected to nature, I can
 really feel that pain. You have a true skill being able to turn your emotions
 into such creative writing. This work really touched my heart and I would
like you to know that I will be keeping you and your friend in my thoughts
and in my prayers.


Sincerely,
Maska Sigo, The Fighting Raccoon

[Trixsie Vixen]

Oh Green!
 
That was very moving, but to know your reason for writing 
Well, that is both tragic and very brave of you!
 
Please keep writing, your words can heal mister 
 
Trixsie
 
*puts paw on shoulder*

[JollyGreenFox]

Thanks both of you, i have some more but i'm at work so ill post them a little later who knows when and i will keep writing

[Trixsie Vixen]

No worries *hugs*.  Naturally Maska has very good taste, he IS my brother after all!

[JollyGreenFox]

Really? Yeah I sent most of them to my enlish teacher...he said I had a talent aswell

[JollyGreenFox]

As I walk through the beautiful warzone I smell the scent of blood and rotting flesh.
I wonder why all these men had to die as they pile up more and more like mesh.
I sit by a tree and watch them fight wondering why they fight and not speak?
Are they afraid to speak the unspoken words aloud to one another in Greek?
As I pounder upon the problem a bullet hits the tree I’m on as I look a man rushes.
Covered in a deep red blood pouring from his head down to the grassy green land.
The rich soil of this grassy green windblown land a lady walks by and looks at the men and blushes.
At the opening at the end of the grassy green windblown blood struck land many a man just stand.
As man after man falls I pay no attention I have no hostility regarding these men why do we fight.
I hide under bridges and fallen trees and I wonder why we must kill these men I could befriend.
All of a sudden the bombardment stopped the grassy green land I once saw was all but dirt and blood.
I close my eyes trying to unsee what I have seen I want to keep that vision of that grassy green land.
But now all I can see is barren land the air filled with the stench of blood and rot.
A tear rolls down my bloody dirt covered cheek and drops down into a pool of blood and mud.
As I stare into the sky all I see is a bright light and I pounder as I cry did I do what was right.
I walk along with the men I knew when we were boys now smoking a drinking is this the end?
I wonder why these old men that send us in to these hell holes will not talk or fight their own battle.
I sleep at night scared to close my eye in fear I may die or get shot.
As I lay on the ground keeping my eye open scared to sleep I remember home my family and my cattle.
I see a light a bright light that feels more loving and peaceful that what is on this earth and sleep.

[Trixsie Vixen]

 
 
Wow... I can see it and hear it.
 
Is this one from the vaults or something new?
 
It's like... Pink Floyd meets Banjo Patterson!
 
*admiration hug*

[JollyGreenFox]

That was from 5/6/2012


i forget what caused it...i think hearing someone from my state died overseas or something cause me to write or i was watching a WW2 movie i forget

[JollyGreenFox]

The Love Of A Daughter


One fine day in the middle of the night so happy and bright I walked through a graveyard
No one dead in sight but for the stones that danced around the graveyard light as a feather
The skeletons flourish to show their former selves and even the corpses look like leather
There I find a Vault the one of Marian Wilson Epps the Bard He Had It Hard Being a Bard
She would plan and play for many people around only to get a pound she played hard
And she played good but only one thing she was made out of wood
Then there is the Catacomb there was about ten men all made out of bone
Dancing their fat bouncing and their hearts tapping these skeletons could always moan
As I walk deeper and deeper I find the well it looks as well as I do all broken and cracked
I yell into the well “Lassie go get help” and laugh I walk along side of the church its Hacked
To all ends I go in and see the altar and thank him for this gift and walk out to the grass so green
It sways and the Morning dew glances at me with glares of the light of the moon
I walk alone threw the street on the boulevard of dead dreams in this dark morning of gloom
I walk into the graveyard once again can climb into a hole with the box looking like me decayed
[size=0pt]And falling apart as I drop in I realize what I miss most of all is my love who is next to me whose soul prayed[/size]
Is not trapped on this earth I just miss her than I hate the one who gave me some more time to live but was slaughtered
[size=0pt]As I close my box I look up at the moon and as a tear rolls down my decayed face I finally give to my daughter[/size]

[MaskaTheOtter]

Your writings are always so moving... I just... wow. Your word speak to me like nothing before it... your awesome, that is an understatement...

[JollyGreenFox]

Really.....i have always though they sucked but i guess that's because i write them who knows im trying to think of what to do with them because there is no way i can publish them into a book....idk what to do to get them noticed

[Trixsie Vixen]

Well I've noticed them, so that's a start!
 
I love your style.  It, IDK, takes you to a place not just an idea.  You might be suited to scriptwriting!

[JollyGreenFox]

what do you mean by that? im really curious

[Trixsie Vixen]

Well, you can't say what people are thinking or other abstract stuff in a script, it's all about visually revealing a capturable image.  I struggle because I want to put in word play and crap... I can make other people see what I see, but I can't describe a scene that a hundred individuals can actualize.  I think maybe you could.
 
*remembers PhD on the philosophy of the language of film I'm meant to be reading*
 
Anyway, keep at it and never trust an English teacher!