A common theme have I earmarked,
A discernible motif for all to see.
The refined sophistication and hallmark of the grand old tree.
Forever in bloom with graceful reserve,
The seed of my poesy.
How I exult and my mind blooms under the grand old tree.
I once called you grandee and grew up to know the word had a meaning.
Then I deemed you a natural centurion among your terse gentry,
For you stood nostalgic and evolutionary.
My acquaintance was with your outline in colouring books in kindergarten
Dark brown of your trunks,
Warm green of your leaves.
A wonderment so out of line
Yet the best that nature could give.
They tried to personify you,
replicate your sylvan dressing circle in blocks.
All falsified greenery of my gated community,
A posh imitation that there ever was.
Celerity of time
The standstill that evokes you.
Brown plumed songsmiths that hang lyrical melodies on your hands,
Nature's green ballad reposed anew.
Never did anyone tie a rope by your hooks
Or leave a still body covered in leaves under you.
Only a sea of entranced looks
occasioned by your view.
The grand old tree,
My seed of poesy
You stand nostalgic and evolutionary,
Among this terse gentry.
***
July's fickle showers are in your auburn knots
My hidden treasure of words in your navel.
My able bodied grandee of all times,
Ever peaceful, ever novel.
YOU ARE READING
WHISTLING CHIMES
PoetryTHIS IS AN ASSORTMENT OF POEMS THAT VARY IN MOOD, THEME AND VISION. VERSATILITY IS MY COMMON AIM AND I HAVE POURED OUT MY HEART AND SOUL INTO EACH OF THESE WORKS. I HOPE MY VISION FINDS A MIRROR IN YOUR HEARTFELT RESPONSES. LET THIS POETIC JOURNEY...
