Under two different trees
On opposite sides of the city
Connected by hearts
And by cell phones.
Under this tree I fled from
The scolding words of my mother
Telling me you were no good.
I fled not to the tree
But to the promise of your calming words
It was under the maroon leaved tree
Where I spent summer nights with crickets and fireflies by my side
And you in my ear.
How come I did not listen to my mother?
I soon noticed the leaves dying off
Crumbling and tumbling
Just like your interest in me.
I heard the whispered winds and your dwindling spirit
I felt the icy chill
And the bitter bite
On my skin
And in my heart.
It was under this tree
That you told me you did not love me.
That your affections had migrated south
Towards her warm and juicy fruit
That had been tempting towards being ripe for months.
She was a peach
But I am homemade jam.
You cannot survive the harsh freeze without me
But every time I look out at that tree
I am reminded that everything comes to an end
And if you can't survive the cold,
Then I'll just let it be.
Next time it burns
I'll tell it to the tree
To the bark
To the busy beetles under her skin.
She will stay
And listen, like you never did.
If I was a tree.
Which stood tall.
A monument to life.
Strong, gentle, and kind.
Wind would gently kiss my leaves.
I would be a prison.
A desolate grove of death.
Roots drunk with toxicity.
Trunk twisted, etched in profanity.
Just barren branches of thorns.
Then shipped to the masses.
Adding graphite or ink
makes plain paper think.
Not IT's thoughts are shown,
But stained by my own.
As part of what's real,
This paper, i feel
Has birthed a thought into existence.
Fertilized by pen,
This thought can be read,
From the womb of the dead
Cut down by human,
With no visible dread.
This paper, quite possibly, had thoughts of its own.
As it lived in the forest, if it's life it had known.
And no way to record them into intepretable realms,
So a favor, I hope, to offer to them:
"There's nothing like a sunny day.
Except a rainy one.
My life is done.
I remember how my life
watching you with those girls
I could only run or hide
you can't see how it hurts
that every time I end up
with my knife
under the tree house
we built when we're child
how far we've come
separated but we got along
one last thing I only want
bury me in all the colors
and all the flowers
which are faded and dark
with a rainbow out of blue
faded in darkness of the night
ready to jump
ready to fly
*with no hope, no fear
Trees hold memories from over a thousand years.
You can feel so many emotions running through them.
The sky with those clouds tell a story.
you just got to have the eyes to see the words.
The wind blows through the leaves
they clap together and make a song.
open your ears you be able to hear.
The mountains are always full of joy.
Can you feel the vibe of them smiling?
The sunset glimmers in the sky
as the sky goes down.
Can't you feel the warmth of its kiss, on your coldstone cheeks?.
I was among a list of objects
whose value was of fleeting joy
expecting to give lasting happiness
maybe to a busy lady or to a lonesome boy
I was placed beneath the tree and opened
my wrappers eagerly teared up by hand
yet the recipient's smile lasted but for a moment
and this I could not understand
I realized I was of tiny worth
compared to the Father's Son
the gift no worldly present can surpass
meant for each and every one
Plant a deep,
and budding seed,
to take away the endless writing need,
show the others,
end the angry jealous greed,
& take away an ugly weed,
to do a little poetic deed,
As you hope in a prolific tree,
in it's rooted ink,
to be set so free,
stretching to the sky,
to show a light for all to see,
Get down & pray on bended knee,
the God's above have heard the plea,
as they hand you a compelling key,
there is no guarantee,
As I will always remember thee,
I hope that you who let me be,
I hope you too,
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Once a young girl ate a seed
That fell off a giant blue tree
Feeling like an old sock
She talked with a doc
And he told her "A baby's in ye!"