In The Forest I Forefeel, Fore And Apt Poem by Lovita Morang

I forefeel in this Forest fore and apt, i rant
I see it coming, I find my solace here, fragrant
Fostering in shrill cry, song of survival of skylark
Drizziling driplets, tears of crying trees wet the barks, ask, who are you, that lurks in sparks,
My tongue dangles out in this tantalizing zeal,
Oh! It my will, a wish to taste the moist of mystery this forest, sparks
From here again I peep out,
to keep human race,
Racing, pacing up,
packing, unpacking in its behest
In this track, I tract tale of an act to ache not,
sing the song of robin red breast, springs out from Poet Emily Dickinson poem, to sew a red coat with hood for robin Poet Emily Dickinson seated on crest, knows how to rest, loosened up her tress,
How do we clothe this forest, what dress, when trees are naked at their beauty best.
We fail, yet this frail willingness say hello to survival
We learn to blow up problems,
Blowing breeze, reminds us of our unfelt interludes cynical
I broke into your dense cosmic glowing,
Into this brilliance, yet we know not the endless game you play,
Agonizing my willingness to get back, calling, recalling my forefathers forensic faith, foregather
Into awful taste gibberish garb, I return, a stroll humbler
Still, incredible the most worthy of all is this wound that erase, perhapsthe dreams that allow not to entertain this end

-Lovita J R Morang