I am putting together a small book called Into The Unknown Woods: Nine Poems and a Short Story. These are a few of the poems that are the closest to being finished and are “presentable” :) I am heavily inspired by Over The Garden Wall (which I quote) and other works like it that I can’t help but recommend. Please feel free to give me your feedback, whatever it might be. Enjoy, and welcome to the dark forest.

Into The Unknown Woods

Who was it

That made the forest paths that we now walk?

And made the arches that we walk beneath?

The forest is old. Far older than

The prints we’ve left behind. And who made them?

I gazed into the wood, my torch in hand.

And by its fire, I beheld the scene.

It was a dim and shadowy wood.

But it was lush, more lush than ever seen

By day. The queen of night held court with ferns,

And silent angel’s trumpets hung like bats.

The flowers of the moon replaced its light,

For no moon shone through the wood tonight.

And Cestrum nocturnum fills the wood

With its unearthly scent. Our scenes seem

More real when we remove the light.

So then I went into the obscure woods.

I dearly yearned to escape from myself.

I fled from the still sad crippling song.

The grief of life would not pursue my soul,

Into the unknown wood.

It’s said that long-forgotten things dwell there,

Revealed to those who travel through the wood.

Though I knew little, I did know this:

That there was something beyond this dark, lush,

Wood, that if I made it through, I would find.

So I began to search for some clear path.

A way to follow – no sound but of my torch

And of the strange night birds within the wood.

I trampled through the tangled undergrowth.

I hoped and prayed but knew I’d find my way.

I must go in.

The Beast

There is something in the shadowy woods where the Frig Frogs burp and Thistle Thrush sings.

Yes, there is someone in the misty woods near the dark barked trees where the shepherd boy leans.

I think I know what it is, but it knows nothing of me.

A beast is in the concealing woods. I know. I’ve heard it sigh,

and underneath the Dimdrop Tree, I’ve seen its pale green eyes,

but I have glimpsed it rarely, and sometimes, I doubt it exists.

At night, I hear it groan as if several fathoms deep.

Sometimes, I see the beast as a nightmare in my sleep.

Only claw marks on trees are left from its passing in the night.

I still often wonder what exactly the thing could be,

but a beast that keeps to itself is more than fine with me.

Vita Detestabilis

From a height far above the clouds,

I fell. My wings unfurled. For I

Had strove to reach the highest peak.

Impossible? So I ceased, and

All the hosts stood confused.

They watched as I leaned back

And fell. I saw astounded eyes

that followed my descent. The light,

A searing memory, burns on

My fading skin. I pierce the veil

Of twilight, as a comet, with

A burning trail. And creatures look

On from beneath. And I will share

Of Imperfection’s dark embrace.

In heaven, all the interesting

Souls are found absent. And the light

Is nought but sour grapes. And so

I fell. No soft descent, no grace.

From blinding heights of daylit bliss,

Into the endless hush.