See the pond,
The shimmering pond,
Past the sign that says no entry.
See the light,
The blinking light,
Leading the puddle-paved way.
Follow the geese
Who hear past the cannons.
Follow them past their stay.
Take your boat
Go past the sign
The light shines for no one but you.
Follow the geese,
they know the way,
In the morning, a minute past two.
Be seen by no one,
But if you do,
Keep rowing forever past two.
No one knows the way,
No one sees how,
The only one that knows is you.
Filed under Poetry, The Nature Child, The Philosopher
Wind
Near
Water
Embraces
The spiraling mind
And calms it in its happiness.
–first published by Mi Poesía, Seth Tyler Black’s old blog-July 2007
Filed under The Artist, The Nature Child
Most precious place to ever be
An escape from noise and people
With oceans and white waterfalls
A place to find pure ecstasy
Sitting out on a deck
And looking out
Just miles of nature
To wonder
To ponder
It isn’t hard to smell
The miles of forest ahead
Acres of leaves and three hundred foot trees
Stretch the mind to its limits
Happiness inside
Is all to feel
All you have to do
Is think
And travel to the back of your head.
–published by Mi Poesía, Seth Tyler Black’s old blog-July 2007, and York Daily Record:Teen Takeover-April 2007 issue
Filed under The Nature Child, The Philosopher
Dried up in the sun
Spoken for by everyone
But I speak of my own importance
So quiet
That when I am outspoken
I am a disturbance.
But will always be resting in my journeys end
Still despite eloquence and beauty
I am known for my disturbances
And proudly so
Just to be known
As a disturbance
Still I rise and fall
Picking one spot to land and focus on
My own area of expertise
Just to start the cycle over
To be another disturbance
But looked upon amazingly when quiet
For without the disturbances I wouldn’t be there
To gaze upon
It is those disturbances
That make me amazingly quiet
And free flowing
I am as subtle as water
In lakes and rain
–first published by Mi Poesía, Seth Tyler Black’s old blog-July 2007
Filed under The Nature Child, The Philosopher
It is true
I am not there
Escaped to my world in the back of my mind
Free-falling for miles
In the sky
Landing safely in a field
Beside white waterfalls
I visit there often
To escape my fate
Right before an accident
During a headache
Escaping reality
I often do
Escaping what I know is true
To a world where I
And I alone control what happens
–first published by Mi Poesía, Seth Tyler Black’s old blog-July 2007
Filed under The Nature Child, The Philosopher
The cool breeze washes around my face
As I look up into bitterness of the oncoming storm.
Only a short few seconds could tell me
How much longer I have to wait.
I start to hear the rain droplets speckle
Upon the leaves of the woods overhead.
I quickly abandon my safe haven
And run to the forest gate
Hoping to beat the storm to the outside world.
Muddy shoes sloshing and stamping.
Sound trying to keep up
With every jolted movement of my feet.
The sound of thunder embraced
The air around me.
I rapidly kicked off my shoes
To lessen the weight
And make my strides
Faster
Longer
My race turned quickly
As I began to hear the shower
From behind me.
I broadened my sight
Just to see that the exit
Was only a few yards ahead.
I pushed my last leg
And pulled myself through the tightly packed trunks
That guarded the gate.
I started to hear the gusts of wind
As I ran outside of my threshold.
I turned around
And took one last glance at what I call home.
The rain swirled overhead
And engulfed the spring area
Instantly drenching my self.
And all I could do was smile.
Nothing in the world mattered to me.
I raised my arms in the air
And threw myself to the ground.
I stared up at the sky
And let the droplets pierce my pupils.
I welcomed the thunder
And lighting.
Not a care in the world
As I laid there
Smiling and free.
–first published by Mi Poesía, Seth Tyler Black’s old blog-July 2007
Filed under The Nature Child
Lights out,
Nothing to see but the world ending before me.
There is nothing that I can do
But sit and watch it from the side window.
So windy outside
So cold.
I dare not go out
But it is oh so pretty.
Lit candle,
Sacred candle,
My only source of light
Except for the occasional flashes in the sky.
So dark,
Oh so dark.
I can barely see myself.
Thank God for the sparks in the sky.
But they are what led me here in the first place!
Damned sky, Damned storm!
Nothing to listen or see
Except for the ringing of classical music in my ears.
Please storm stop!
You are leading me down!
But you are so pretty, so tempting, so beautiful.
Such a pretty war.
I want to be in it,
But all I can do is sit and watch as the world ends before me.
–published by York Daily Record:Teen Takeover-January 2008 issue, and Articulations:Student Poetry on Life-Spring 2007
Filed under The Nature Child
A seedling takes twelve years to sprout
into a sustained tree. With branches
reaching to every direction pondered,
the coverage of a tree is quite gross.
Half of a tree is bloomed into an array of leaves.
Half of a tree has branches, dead where
life’s goals stop.
However, on a tip of the highest branch
sprouts a new life. And in the latest springday
on the twelfth year, the new seedling falls.
Free from the past twelve year old tree,
spinning in air, not stopping to rest but a mile away.
A new seedling, a new life. Not knowing
what life will bring it. New branches not pondered,
new leaves not yet grown. Twelve years
and this new seedling will be as explored
as its own. Twelve years, before a new seedling falls.
-first published by York Daily Record:Teen Takeover-July 2008 issue
Filed under The Nature Child, The Philosopher
Travelling Showcase 