Saturday, September 13, 2014

Poem: Untitled

This is a poem written a couple of months before my high school graduation. It's told from the perspective of a tree reminding me of course of, The Giving Tree, by Shel Silverstein. I can honestly say I had never read that book before then, but so glad I have discovered it since. Reading through this poem for the first time in twenty years makes me wonder if it has potential for a picture book. 

April 6, 1994

Its future is now buried in soft soil of the earth
planted by working hands of the older generation
the sunlight the falling rain put to growth this little plant
looked on by hopeful eyes for weeks of months to come
voices helped it grow and they show and tell with the
neighbors were always good for an extra inch
a little one with no clear voice would sit and touch it
with its tender fingertips

the plant felt loved and after the first white fall
it was ready to go
the tenderness is still there but it has grown
the plant as well, is now up to the palms
the little one now seems to have the only hopeful eye
but she is so fun to watch, the beauty in her eye
before the night, overtakes the day she tells me goodnight
and in the morning she asks how was your nap
she pats me on the head and leaves with her pack

the hot days are over the cool winds are coming
another few inches I have grown, I'm gaining a little
the love never stops

she walks home she is a little upset she sits down
and tells me of her day
the call from the house comes through my peers
the little girl leaves with a grin
the white begins to take control
I still see the girl no quite as often
but she sends her love as she sails by on the snow
with rosy cheeks she runs inside doesn't forget
to turn back and wave good-bye

Part II

April 8, 1994

I'm a little cold but it doesn't bother me
the little princess has come and nested a fire by my place
I don't quite understand but she has knowledge
she shows me these gifts that I saw being snuck in at night
the fire has gone out so has her little mind

I drop a leaf to awaken her to protect her from the cold
she leaves she says goodbye I know it will
not be long for another Hi.

I haven't seen any people for awhile  I begin to feel depressed
as my first branch begins making its way into the world
my friend is getting bigger now she spends time
with other cheerful people of  the same kind
familiar hands have given me new friends
but my best one is still the one with tender hands

my branches are very strong and now that the hot weather
has come I get to see my friend from morning until who knows when
there are strings attached not to my visits but to my branch
my friend swings back and forth singing the whole time
I sing along she pretends she can hear me
her and her father sleep out beside me

she tells him about me he said friends are great
I started to like that man who first gave me life
he often came out and talked to himself
it was a weird trait that this family has I thought
he talked to me but I have to admit I was upset
so I didn't listen real deep
for awhile anyway then I heard him weep
when he talked through he had a strange smell
every time he left he didn't wave just fell
now he seemed sturdy talking to his little love
I felt them become close together despite their problems at home

I cannot remember if this is the end of the poem or not.

r.s. graybill

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