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Array
(
[sid] => 65215
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Oak Tree
[time] => 2004-09-26 12:08:15
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I have a picture of a tree,
its gnarled trunk thick and wide,
support branches reaching a hundred feet high
Once started as a seed,
has grown to become truly mighty,
generations have played under her leaves,
climbing high into her crown,
a dizzying height,
tire tubes and swings,
wore deep grooves into her lower branches,
evidence of childhood attention,
remnants of an old tree house,
still may be seen,
yet, can no longer be reached,
to high the old oak tree
I love Mary encased in a heart,
carved into her bark,
hastily scratched through,
then added Sue, Lucy, and June,
all share the same fate,
carved by an unknown fellow,
now passed through
When in full bloom,
a majestic sight,
her leaves rustle softly in the wind,
designed to send gentle breeze,
where lunch is laid,
and children play
For eons she has pleasured many,
harmed none,
added beauty and grace,
to the old home place
In her time,
she'd weathered many a storm,
she stood defiant in their wake,
although, her limbs and leaves did shake,
she stood her ground,
they couldn't bring her to ground
Now I know she was awfully old,
she looked terrifically strong,
as big as she was,
some of her roots, her foundation,
had cracked, been ripped apart,
deep scars that never healed,
ran throughout,
never deeply rooted from the start,
her massive weight,
kept her, from falling apart
Then along came, the worst she'd ever seen,
throwing at her winds, over one thirty,
her powerful branches,
reaching so high,
snap like twigs, are cast aside
her broad trunk taking full impact,
finally succumbs,
pushed over, onto her back,
her foundation, ripped from the ground,
stood skeletal, hovering above,
what was once, her majestic crown
If you listened closely,
when she hit the ground,
the moan of hundreds of children,
crying out, was her last sound
She lay there for weeks,
until, finally,
cut up, burned, and hauled off,
nothing remained
I have a picture of a tree,
where once stood a mighty oak tree,
a miniature shoot,
now free of the land,
reaches ever higher
Mac
September 2004
[comments] => 2
[counter] => 154
[topic] => 27
[informant] => macmcgovern
[notes] =>
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 5
[ratings] => 1
[editpoem] => 0
[associated] =>
[topicname] => NaturePoetry
)
The Oak Tree
Contributed by
macmcgovern
on
Sunday, 26th September 2004 @ 12:08:15 PM in AEST
Topic:
NaturePoetry
|
I have a picture of a tree,
its gnarled trunk thick and wide,
support branches reaching a hundred feet high
Once started as a seed,
has grown to become truly mighty,
generations have played under her leaves,
climbing high into her crown,
a dizzying height,
tire tubes and swings,
wore deep grooves into her lower branches,
evidence of childhood attention,
remnants of an old tree house,
still may be seen,
yet, can no longer be reached,
to high the old oak tree
I love Mary encased in a heart,
carved into her bark,
hastily scratched through,
then added Sue, Lucy, and June,
all share the same fate,
carved by an unknown fellow,
now passed through
When in full bloom,
a majestic sight,
her leaves rustle softly in the wind,
designed to send gentle breeze,
where lunch is laid,
and children play
For eons she has pleasured many,
harmed none,
added beauty and grace,
to the old home place
In her time,
she'd weathered many a storm,
she stood defiant in their wake,
although, her limbs and leaves did shake,
she stood her ground,
they couldn't bring her to ground
Now I know she was awfully old,
she looked terrifically strong,
as big as she was,
some of her roots, her foundation,
had cracked, been ripped apart,
deep scars that never healed,
ran throughout,
never deeply rooted from the start,
her massive weight,
kept her, from falling apart
Then along came, the worst she'd ever seen,
throwing at her winds, over one thirty,
her powerful branches,
reaching so high,
snap like twigs, are cast aside
her broad trunk taking full impact,
finally succumbs,
pushed over, onto her back,
her foundation, ripped from the ground,
stood skeletal, hovering above,
what was once, her majestic crown
If you listened closely,
when she hit the ground,
the moan of hundreds of children,
crying out, was her last sound
She lay there for weeks,
until, finally,
cut up, burned, and hauled off,
nothing remained
I have a picture of a tree,
where once stood a mighty oak tree,
a miniature shoot,
now free of the land,
reaches ever higher
Mac
September 2004
Copyright ©
macmcgovern
... [
2004-09-26 12:08:15] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: The Oak Tree
(User Rating: 1 ) by Spazzo on
Sunday, 26th September 2004 @ 04:15:54 PM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Awesome poem. Very lovely. |
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Re: The Oak Tree
(User Rating: 1 ) by a_bear on
Monday, 25th October 2004 @ 01:05:37 AM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
This will stay close to my heart. I had a Russion Olive tree that I named General Bunion (long u) after the Russion General in Anastasia.. I name all of my trees..
I over-watered him, and he died. For years, I planted climbing flowers around the trunk, and refused to cut it down..but it finally toppled over as it had very shallow roots.. I love the part of your poem that tells about the initials..very cute.. I love the whole poem. |
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