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The Poor Tree
submitted 2 months 2 days ago by: sniper : 10 commentsThe axe of death proved sharp,
The murdering hands didn't spare
This tree__ the last one of the forest.
It stood here for centuries,
With their names engraved on it
A silent historian of someone's memories,
A shady dwelling of the birds,
A good shelter in sun and rain.
A center of attraction for the birds it was,
Always enriched with their melodious songs.
But everything is calm and quiet now__
The storm is over; still no bird sings!
My soul bleeds,
And shrieks to stop this all,
And I wish
That my voice may echo
Through seven seas and continents.
But I guess,
It will be a cry in wilderness.
Comments
Morose and pretty grief stricken.
Why does it remind me of 'Green Peace'!
Green Peace...?? Lost..
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Sometimes I think war is God's way of teaching us geography.
Lol. An environment protection agency or organization. :)
So does that mean I am finally employed somewhere?
Well, there is little history behind that poem, or whatever you may like to call it..maybe I shall share some other time..
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Sometimes I think war is God's way of teaching us geography.
Fibre stretching so fine
It bares the soul
The threads holding the skin
And patience testing the whole
...writes Iola
^Awesome lines..
Stretched too fine,
It laid bare the wounds
Time had covered
On the weathered soul.
The stitches gave way
To the oozing blood
That rhymed with the mud
If nothing else, it killed some time..
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Sometimes I think war is God's way of teaching us geography.
Healing
but a myth
The sheathe you sheathed in
The sorrow had its claws
Deep and deeper still
To bite and bite again
Time and time again
Mercy! Mercy! Mercy!
For pain doth neva heal
Each loss it doth repeal
The wound stays afresh
Till ...........
.....till
the soothing zephyr
lulls you
into the valley of disbelief
a wonderous moment of mirth
so supreme
so sublime
so divine
that you wish not to wink
fear the eyes will blink
long to cling on
to that pure absolute bliss
making the heart soar
beyond all pain
Oh that all surpassing moment!
Suspends and holds
all beauty
all times
you feel alive
That moment
when touches your soul
Heals all wounds
Heals you to the whole
Once again
Yet.....
...yet
the figment of imagination
the power of the mind
the strength of the soul
character
they teach you the meanings
of times that go
and times that are to come
till you believe no more
in a time sublime
for it passes right through the fingers
just like sand
the glasshour sits across
you smile
at yourself
as life goes on
on and on...
dust to dust
ashes to ashes!
Oh umm sorry for spoiling your blog...I guess I just got carried away.