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In my yard stands a tree
tall and sturdy
lone like a hermit,
regal like an empress
her roots dug deep
her branches touching the heavens
peeking behind the skies veil
She has a coy dalliance with the Wind
Sometimes he comes tickling
her tender parts, whispering
sweet nothings in her ear
Overall she is still
Still....................
like waters without ripples

She stands upright
brooding over the saga of struggle
from a sapling to a towering giant
Indeed a tryst with destiny!

Under the summer sky
braving the smarting beams
she remained uncomplaining.
Below the thundering clouds
bearing a thousand needle ******
she stayed nonchalant.
When the wind swept across
bending her branches in all directions
she stood on firm feet unwavering.

She tells a tale of struggle and survival
She had stood there before I was born
Now she displays every scar and every stripe
on her knotted bark as a proud trophy

Sometimes I feel her pain
when wet and dripping in pouring rain
or scorched in the sun’s fiery rage
Yet she holds an umbrella over all
who come to her in sun and rain
This is a poem to highlight the beauty of trees and to show how they are important to each one of us.... Also the need to be like trees giving shade and shelter to others, holding an umbrella over many heads!
I found a poem
it was packed away
in a box in an attic is where it lay
dormant in the dark
unable to say
the words he had written
his final day

the attic has light now
he heard the switch click
come to me come to me
hurry! be quick
I've waited for years
for ions to be read
then the sound of turning pages
danced in his head

he awaited the light when he heard paper turning
and the smile of a face would have his heart burning
closer and closer as the pages were freed
then stopped at the title and did not proceed
did not proceed but the eyes he could see
through the thin journal paper the eyes he could see
and the tears ran down cheeks of a child all but 3
Daddy, he said, 'Can you read this for me?'
'Perhaps you can read it some other day
when you're old enough to know just what it might say
Off now my child, we can't be all night
lay down the book and turn off the light

and from that day forward he waited for me
the child to return
to set the words free
the poet sleeps
and they appear
images so wondrous
as to bring a tear
they take his soul
and slow his heart
they fill his nights
with beauty apart
from all he knows
in his awakened state
and then they vanish
into the great
mystic

he awakens to his prosaic day
bits remain of what he cannot say
my most beautiful words
are dreamed away
Quick note: At some point I had written on a piece of scrap paper 'He is resolved to say his most beautiful words are dreamed away.' I found it today as I was packing to move and actually threw it out without reading. I was going back to get a sippy cup lid I had also tossed but later found the mate and decided to read what was on the piece of paper when I spotted it. I wasn't even sure if I had written it or read it, so I googled the phrase and didn't find it. I had also edited out two words at the beginning of the phrase which solidified it to me. The mystic was speaking to me
a little borrowing from Van Morrison 'Into the Mystic'
https://youtu.be/CEvsDuJYEnI
who's that on the grassy knoll
disappeared down a rabbit hole
what's that on the picket fence
puff of smoke it all makes sense
metal flyin' everywhere
we all know but they don't care
mauser was the toy they found
it don't match the killer's round
soldiers soldiers follow me
I'll tell you what you need to see
there's only one goal
only one mission
believe the lie
the Dulles Commission
the lie
I opened the desk to look at the only photo I have of you
the colors have faded
and the edges are charred
but I don't remember when or how
did I do that at some point in a drunken fit
perhaps to draw my gaze from your beauty
or to symbolize how I was burned
the nights are long here
retired and struggling to find life
trying not to wait for death
you were night and day
love and hate
truth and deception
and in our brief time together
I was more alive than ever before
or since

you haunt me
monsters, goblins, greys and trolls
slithering through my blanket folds
sweating bullets I awake in screams
twitchy, violent, sketchy dreams
they hide in darkness
they snicker and strut
the window creeks open
my eyes slowly shut

such an old man
I have become
they wear and they tear
like worms on a plum
please stay this night
as the Sun leaves they creep
just take my hand
when I twitch in my sleep
prompted by a very strange dream I recently had
how faint his final cry
how frail his last goodbye
plays on low as he drifts away
'song of the sandman lullabye'
he wraps himself in memories
he finds a dream and falls
the music on a constant loop
makes its way down hollow halls

morning light now finds no breath
the pen's ink soon to dry
his final words
his quiet death

'song of the sandman lullabye'
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