pine_needle_ashes nomme like snowflakes the paper pieces of ravaged trees watching falling the pine needle single centimetres pieces almost unrecognizable blackened charred stories see them they appear on the surface of everything in the air i breathe i am breathing go to touch them pick them up they smear like powdered makeup pictures chalk images floating on the northward rising breeze drops of golden brown lichen joining forces with the troupe of trees brackens on the wind so many casualties war debris 030822 ... oldephebe i like this one 030822 ... ferret from my trees ferrets_goodwrite 030823 ... oldephebe no really - i really like what you've shared - kind of tongue tied now but i've always had this thing about, for pinetrees - rustic boquet - always knew there were black bears around when you couldn't smell the pine - well mostly because of the bears stifling, overwhelming "redolence", an entirely asphyxiating "boquet" - but ah this one was like a modern day Robert Frost rumination - yep i really liked this one 030823 ... nomme thanks ol' ephebe it is an honour to inspire images in others and so it naturally pleases my mind to think someone might chance upon a verse or two i've enscribed in these pages and take the words into their own experience i am in awe of everything i simply want to leave some indentation some scrap of semblance cotton pieces torn branch signals to help me find my way through this vast jungle 030823 ... oldephebe yea, i get that ... 030823 ... sabbie walking away from it all while the ashes of my history rain down silently behind me. emerging out of the ocean [wash me, wash me in the blood of the earth wash away my history wash away my sins] clean cleansed reborn anew. 030824 ... oE yeah...this is me untying me tongue and trying to paste a few adjectives together to say..something besides "that almost stopped my breath and made me well up with water.." nice writing sab... ... 040515 ... Borealis and a flame is burning sparking and sputtering a wet flame a damp flame a flame winking in and out of existence for its insufficient fuel. pine needles only burn for so long.. yet the scent is overpowering. heady and deep it is wafting.. rolling in through the currents, breaking through my wall, and through my non-existent ceiling. 040516 ... pete they were devoured so quickly. up in smoke, into the sky. they chased away the mosquitos and black flies, but left us gasping for breathe. the needles, this time spruce not pine, fell into the flames and disappeared. we cried not because of our sadness but because the smoke stund our eyes. tomorrow people will look at the ashes we leave behind and think nothing of it. but we feel it, smell it, believe it. 040516 ... notme i remember the lightning, dry my neighbour telling me, fire i remember the ashes falling from the sky standing in my garden watching everything being eaten alive by smoke i remember the_guys_from_ontario and the wind on the mountain burning i took apart my spinning wheel i hid it in the neighbour's cellar with my mother's guitars, my own guitar my father's drums, covered in tapestries 040516 ... notme everybody is still packed 'cause nobody knows how this summer could be get ready for another doozy is the word on the street everybody is still packed but . 040516 ... mourninglight bitter sweet smoke filling the eyes as incense to something great and dangerous appease him, or he may strike a lightening bolt on your village and burn his own pine needle ashes himself 040828 ... pete mourninglight, i feel what you have said has already been said by you, i guess sometimes words stay alive in the death before birth. -- smoldering_coals leap to life too many wornout faces staring up into the stars trying to emulate them as the noon day sun blocks them from view the life lives but hides because there is nothing left to do and a moment of laughter crackling smoldering with the life of the great pine, felled for fire and loved no more except by the lost faces struggling to emulate the stars 040828 ... ever dumbening pine needle echoes trapped in the oxides frits and silica, the ashes now washed away. bodies borrowed to starve the wind, just until the clay can cool. copper swirls and crackles cross the tracks the former needles laid. 040828 ... mourninglight a thought process does not merely exist in a single instant it is a way of life 040828 ... unhinged my neighborhood covered in drought stricken evergreen pieces yellow orange needle not so needle piles of potential fire on the roadsides everywhere i look 201106 what's it to you? who go blather from