tree time
By Di_Hard
- 2219 reads
cold admonishment as rain, taps
a clean patina of advice -
with foreign fluency, saps
defiant thought, both truth and lies
this, here, is all - accept, feel, grow
as trees reach up and out, giant
trunks steadfast, in their changing slow
evolution, bear lungs' pliant
transience of wind shifted planes -
a swirling tail-coat, flare of skirt
shadow-meshing, air blessing, greens
from sycamore palms, pennied birch
lobed oak, huge chestnut, small hawthorn
corrugated beech, willow's felt
fine larch, fronded ash and rowan
with dark, spiked, shining holly meld
in one accord, giving Earth Life
as in other lands other trees
are doing, NOW, despite such strife
humans make; among these, find peace
still, free. Millenia of leaves
have floated for a blissful try
at self will, by wind or beliefs
shaped, an instant in always sky
and when there's no more time to dance
we're drawn back in by an embrace
unquestioning - no plan or chance
denies any a place in grace
b r i g h t ! Suddenly, forgotten sun
shimmers in each drip luscious tip
pools in blue lichen's glow, shines on
each upturned plant or face, like hope
picture from : https://skeochand.wordpress.com/
changed this a bit, hope it makes more sense
cold admonishment as rain taps
a clean patina of advice - with foreign fluency
saps defiant thought, both truth and lies
this, here, is all - accept, feel, grow as trees
reach up and out, giant trunks steadfast, in their changing
slow, they take to give their lungs' pliant transience
of wind shifted planes - a swirling tail-coat, flare
of skirt shadow-meshing, air blessing
greens
from sycamore palms, pennied birch
lobed oak, huge chestnut, small hawthorn
corrugated beech, willow's felt, fine larch
fronded ash and rowan with spiked, shining holly
all meld
in one accord, enable Life
as in other lands other trees
are doing, NOW, despite such strife humans make
among these, find Peace
still, free. Millenia of leaves have floated
for a blissful try at self will
by wind or beliefs shaped
we're moments in always sky
and when there's no more time to dance, we're drawn back in
by an embrace unquestioning - no plan or chance
can deny our place in grace
B R I G H T ! Suddenly, forgotten sun shimmers
in each drip luscious tip, pools
in blue lichen's glow, shines on
each upturned plant or face, like hope
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Comments
." ..each upturned plant or
." ..each upturned plant or face, like hope..." Yes, the wonder of trees and plants in a turbulent world. We remain blessed. I found the poem emotional and quietly euphoric in the end. Very nicely done, Di. Paul :)
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It sounds as if you can
It sounds as if you can quieten down amongst your trees in the drizzle. Their steadiness and varied greenery (are alder leaves furry underneath like felt, I couldn’t remember) Like the mountains, they do point me to the steadiness of their greater Maker.
The last verse is lovely and vivid in the delight of the jewels that suddenly shine in the dark woodland!
And I'm glad you are still enjoying photographing the wonder and constant variety there. Rhiannon
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reminds me a bit of the
reminds me a bit of the classic book Overstory.
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We can only wonder at what
We can only wonder at what trees feel. This poem gave them a personality, each one has its own special charm. The last line shows that no matter what, nature always wins through in the end, and we should have hope.
Very much enjoyed reading Di.
Jenny.
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In Japan they call it forest
In Japan they call it forest bathing, and you took me right there with this wonderful hymn of praise to your trees. Long may they continue to bless us with their beauty!
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This felt like an all
This felt like an all-immersive read, with a beautifully unrushed pace. And I loved the embrace unquestioning.
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This is beautiful, no doubt.
This is beautiful, no doubt. Recognizing the beauty I thought you chose words over meaning for impact, this is beautiful, but I don't know what it's about. I can't read the forest for the trees. That's just me. It's still beautiful.
V/R
TJ
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I found it so interesting to
I found it so interesting to read what is guess is a prose version of your poem. We don't usually explain what we've written - I'm not sure I always can - but you've done it so succinctly that the two stand side by side. And as I think TJW was suggesting, the pleasure of reading a poem is something in itself, whether we understand it all or not.
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"the pleasure of reading a
"the pleasure of reading a poem is something in itself, whether we understand it all or not" - yeah, what she said.
I didn't say your poems don't mean anything. If I thought that I wouldn't read them. Just didn't get the meaning of this one. So stop worrying. Wasn't trying to make you worry.
Take it easy, DH
Jack
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