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 Apr 2018 Imran Islam
Cné
The Tree
 Apr 2018 Imran Islam
Cné

Through the withered branches
where the verdant leaves once grew,
I stared up at the old oak tree
against a sky of blue.

The branches stretched to heaven
as a supplicant might do.
It seemed to pray, as if to say,
"My time at last is through."

I wondered at the gnarly trunk
and limbs of twisted wood
And for a moment thought of life
and almost understood.

Life and death go hand in hand.  
Our time is our's to spend.
But like the tree against the gale,
‘tis better if we bend.

I'll pay it forward when I can.  
Thy brothers' keeper be.
I'll keep the roots well watered
and learn the lessons of the tree.

It shares the world with nestlings
and it's acorns oft abound,
To feed the hungry denizens
that glean them from the ground.

It's leaves give shade to those below.  
It's branches form a gym.
Children climb to see the world
and love this gift to them.

And as I watched, the farmer
came and laid the old husk low.
Firewood now, would be it's fate
and make the chimney glow.

Ashes unto ashes and to dust
we must return.
All of life in cycle goes
and from this I hope to learn:

This gift of life to all below,
all creatures great and small,
Is just a stop upon the trip
we travel, one and all.

Inspired by a photo shared by Melissa. Happy Earth Day!
 Apr 2018 Imran Islam
laura
when the sun burns my skinny
skin off and there's nothing but
the heart beating for all to watch
the fingerprints you leave on me
compliments like poison, an agent
of all my sighs, eyes sore from first moving

quit treating me like a girl
with all your sentimental online messages
like you're afraid to touch my bones
mysteries too cheap to come by
wings to thin and fragile to fly with
holding on til July

because my sanity's getting loose
 Apr 2018 Imran Islam
L B
Cold today
but at least
the sun's
in play

Out in it

Wind talking
through mouthfuls of white pine
sweeping, swishing whispers
just enough to let the chimes
sing as bells
without bashing-- themselves
to dissonant trinkets

Music-muttering, free

Leafless shadows of the early spring
cold creeping 'cross
the yards toward noon
where they disappear
into a wood-chipper

What the hell is with my neighbors?

Why do people hate their trees?
Maybe 'cause they are not theirs?
Grown beyond them and their confines?

My tiny yard so feral
They probably hate mine too
But I belong to them  
and mine belong to me
They curve around, protective
my home of wind and bird and sky
swirling
cream 'n coffee
one into another
like  
Music sometimes
falling through itself into...
Sure--
know ******* a morning

I let them live

trees and neighbors

...as my mind smears into afternoon
4-7-18
 Apr 2018 Imran Islam
Amy H
a million little things
make me smile;
like star light that glitters
in my eyes
when it touches me again.
memories and stars,
the brilliance
of left-over light.
Stars like memories, ya I write for fun.
 Apr 2018 Imran Islam
Cinzia
You don't begin with Guernica
if that's somewhere you're ever
meant to go

chubby baby hands grip the crayon
someday if you're lucky (or not)
they'll draw a thin straight line
in charcoal
just the least perceptible curve
enough to delight the eye
imperfection thrills the masses

then you paint and paint and paint
time and patience
some money
luck again, always luck

you're a master

maybe someone will recognize in your lifetime
most likely no
unless you're a tireless self-promoter

but your work
your work is sublime
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