feigning oblivion
to sprawled
lifeless lumber,
felled, fallen
Our limbs loft
rigidly erect
proud, aloof,
upstanding
we gaze skyward,
haughtily avoid
awkward vista of
wretch stretched
uncouthly oozing
sap solution
over our exclusive
deep-pile carpet
If anyone
asks...
we heard
Nothing.
Author notes
Liltandrhyme (PJ)
"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference." Elie Wiese
If a tree
fell
in the forest
and everyone
turned a deaf ear,
would it
make a sound?
Are bears
catholic?
Does
the pope
shit
in the
woods?
In a list
A contest entry
- if a tree fell in the forest by Cat.
3500 points, ended May 5, 2008, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Back into the rhythm by Shamanicmusings.
450 points, ended September 16, 2008, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Prewrites for Comments :] by ElectricBloom.
700 points, ended November 23, 2008, 30 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Give me anything! by ASmileForYou.
560 points, ended December 16, 2008, 138 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 16 of 16
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This is very interesting, and it makes you think about different perspectives. The first three lines are my favorite.
Thanks for entering! -
Beautiful.
I'm in awe.
What a gorgeous piece of poertry, short and to the point. Complex in simplicity ^.^
I love it.
Beautiful imagery throughout and such a powerful ending.
Well done, I truly enjoyed reading this.
ElectricBloom -
This is a good poem, but I'm not so sure it fits here in my contest. Thanks for entering, though!
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This was interesting...
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Awesome use of the quote! Thanks for entering my contest and good luck!
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love it
I had to read more of your work after the last one i had the pleasure to read, and i am not disappointed
each word used has so much depth and relevance
very well done
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I often walk in an old growth redwood forest near where I live, where the faeries still meet beneath the midnight moon and dance rings of light. In fact I often walk there under the midnight moon to watch them dance, and to play my flute for them. Sometimes they scatter a few fallen leaves atop my path to sweeten the scent. It's as if I've always known them, and they've always walked beside me.
On a recent walk, I found one such faerie, and ancient creature old as the tides, "fallen". She lay like a shipwreck, broken against the hillside, so tall it could not be seen where here topmost boughs came to rest.
She was someone I would stop and play my flute for while she stood, and there shattered across the earth, I played again, and wished a world of light into what sap still flowed beneath those loose planks of bark, so that she might leave a peace of herself yet in the ground, and grow once more from her remains--redwoods do that if their fall is not too traumatic.
It made a sound alright. An echo still crashing across the voids of my heart, my mind. A sound like waves against the cliffs, like thunder, like the end of time. I still hear it, and still I find myself with my flute in time.
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to see, does it live again?
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Clever twists of language and wit - all woven together with an obvious art and a deep sense of tragic humour. This one I loved. How to distribute votes in this will be profoundly taxing
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loved your comment...hehehe.
Great ending, and metaphors. Oh, and mum's the word.
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I love it.
It's a real talent, when you can take somewhat heavy subject matter, and make it...well...less somewhat heavy.
...And yes, the pope DOES shit in the woods...It's true...I seen it!
(Just to answer your question)
Excellent, as I've come to expect of you Pj.
-Nadya -
some wonderful alliteration
spiced liberally through this piece
a sing songy- delightful play with words is the
result of those
careful sounds
also so nice that you commented through out the contest- so pleased to find that
thank you
viagra?
M
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One that requires a reader to think and I like that in a piece. Great take on the prompt. Love, C
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A soft feel to this piece, but yes also a bit of a question as well. Great take on Mary's prompt.
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I feel a questioning from this poem, a contemplative manner. Love the authors notes as well. Would it make a sound if no one was around? I love the next to last stanza as well as the questioning way it ended.
Becky
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it was colonel mustard.. in the study.. with the candlestick. this is grand. indifference is not a simple thing to write.
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