Roots: a poem

Bob Downing/Akron Beacon Journal/MCT

Staff Writer

Desolate plane
Where many green trees perform,
Roots dug deep in the ground
In their mighty form
Barren, mossy green
That takes its shape,
Ancient signs
Each sent to their escape
Ease such step
With cautious gain,
Creatures lurk
Whose chains remain
Border found
Those forbidden realm,
The mighty trees shall speak
And overwhelm.


This poem outlines my thoughts on what lies inside a forest imaginatively-I see it almost like a “forbidden realm” where creatures are and where trees speak. At first, I exclusively focused on the realm of a forest but then, I  slowly transitioned into the new world that could lie inside of the forest.

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