No nourishment on the forest floor

There was a time when I spoke a lot.

Representing my thoughts,

As if I had something interesting to say.


I listen to everybody that wanted me around.

Thoughts lately hard to convey

I want to stop exsisting

physically in the minds of others


I want to hide away for hours

Painting wonderous lonely dreams

Etched in the most beautiful insignificant pain

Self infliction breaking


the id the ego it needs satisfaction

But it must get out of my path

I'm conflicted and stubborn

Quietly driving them all away

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A dead leafy thought, wilting.  I fell off the tree long ago.  Once again, I think this is another I like better backwards then forwards. 

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allets's picture


When the id wars with the ego, the id wins. When the ego looks in the mirror,

the mirror wins. When the poet writes lines that resonate with existence, existence

blanches. Be the words and find joy there. Peace to you for the season and throughout your breathing days - I send you smiles & a hug- Stella



schmuckjones's picture


Turning inward on oneself isn't good.  Perhaps its the changing of the seasons, perhaps not. I just need to enjoy my time, somehow.  All this brooding makes for good poetry but a sad face.   

deepinyourdreams's picture

Signs of oneself, cloaked and

Signs of oneself, cloaked and guarded into seclusion....sounds a little lonely...but I liked it.  Bear


KindredSpirit's picture

I like it

It does read both ways.

That is up to you.