an odd tree

Hi, friends!

For those of you who write… have you ever finished writing something and say to yourself… damn that’s good.

That was this poem for me.

Stylistically, almost colloquial. Structurally, mostly iambic pentameter. Rhymes without feeling “rhyme”-y.

And then factor in the quirk factor sprinkled with a bit of essential nihilism… ahhh, my happy place.

They say write for yourself and the audience will find you. I don’t know who the eff “they” are, to be honest. But I love this poem… no ego, amigo. I just love it.

And I genuinely hope you like (if not love) this poem, too. Please let me know your thoughts and feelings in the Comments Section below.

-PS Conway ☘ ☘ ☘

☘ ☘ ☘ ☘ ☘

an odd tree

bury me deep by the tree on the lake,

you know the place, high on the hilltop where

nothing grows, just yellow grass starved to take

hold, just dirt and rocks, all sullen and bare

and of course, that tree is still there, although

no one can explain how or why, ‘midst all

that nothing, a lonely tree can still grow

under a cloudless sky, whereby stars fall

and collect in the lake near every night,

ah the lake, that hoarder that sneaky snake

who steals all the rain, perpetuates blight,

deigns not to share her bounty, vain and fake,

she reflects the night, but harbors no life,

and the stars, oh those stars love to behold

their heavenly mien, so far from the strife

of mortality, their countenance cold,

yet unaware they had died long ago,

‘tis no better place to lay me to rest

with death all above and nothing below

save an odd tree in whose roots i shall nest.

10 comments

  1. ” this no better place to lay me to rest

    with death all above and nothing below

    save an odd tree in whose roots I shall nest. ” — love the ending.

    ” midst all

    that nothing, a lonely tree can still grow

    under a cloudless sky, whereby stars fall

    and collect in the lake near every night,

    ah, the lake ” — well, a thing to ponder about.

    ” that hoarder that sneaky snake

    who steals all the rain, perpetuates blight,

    deigns not to share her bounty, vain and
    fake,

    she reflects on the night, but harbors no life ” — loved the personification of snake & yes snakes have always been presented as a guard of the treasures since mythological times, & those snakes who are hoarders are sneaky.

    ” the stars, oh those stars love to behold

    their heavenly mien, so far from the strife

    of mortality, their countenance cold,

    yet unaware they had died long ago ” — so sad 😶

    1. There is a haunting depth to these thoughts, a subtle, yet serene meaning which brings peace to the soul. Thank you for bringing these feelings to the surface.

  2. I love the dead starts staring vainly at their reflection. This was a stroke of genius. I never thought of a lake as being greedy before. Well played! You shall be the last remaining dirt pile of a poet!

  3. Great poem of loneliness and emptiness, but within that, a peace and satisfaction found. Sorry so late to respond. I’ve been real sick for several days now.

    1. Hope you’re rounding the corner with being sick, my friend. Thanks so much for your wonderful comments!! 🙏🏻🌳🌹✨🍷

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