Saturday, 25 January 2014

The Glory of Wood

deadwood:
chopped and carved down
roughened up,
no sign of sanding,
brought together:
larger, smaller
planks positioned
in a joust to join in joists
at right angles,
to passing angels,
be
hammered to the soil
through hardened Roman hands.

on a driftwood tree,
you died,
(two thousand times since round the sun
the epicentre circles from a growing oak still ripple)
your fallen branches,
stained and etched in blood,
you hung for me,
i live to tell the tale.





Posted for dverse: Poetics-On the Other Hand
escondido-cross-tree-jim-rants-29828084.jpg
Photo: Jim Rants





10 comments:

  1. mmm powerful...dead to life...
    cut down they might serve the a better purpose
    one that resonates into today.

    i like the alliteration there in the middle with joists

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  2. An important message in your words!

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  3. This is such a beautiful poem - lovely.

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  4. Your words are incredibly powerful ... Beautiful poem!!

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  5. This is so well written the word sings with your strong messages

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  6. very powerful. i love how beautifully it reads.

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  7. Fantastic poem, the power of love and grace over sweat and work. This is quite beautiful and so excellent.

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  8. Such perfect reading on this Sunday morning... thanks!

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