Tall, wise, old oak tree,
if only you could speak to me.
With ears and eyes upon thy bark,
cradling stories within thine arc.
With bark like eyes,
with bark that seeks,
your leaves reach down to kiss my cheeks.
But alas, dear oak,
you've never spoke,
and for that I shall pout.
For you've no lips upon thy tips
of leaves to help you shout,
nor have you tounge or faithful lung
to let you breath tales out.
Author notes
This poem, followed by several others, I wrote for a character in one of my books to write. But that book won't be typed or posted for a very long time, so I thought I'd post this. The character's name is Nayan. I hope you liked it
A contest entry
- critique by DancingRed.
400 points, ended July 16, 51 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
-
I like this, despite the end rhyme. Personification of the tree is done so very well.
"cradling stories within thine arc" - nice and unique.
"and for that I shall pout" - not my favourite line. It doesn't seem to flow with the rest of the rhyme nor the lines before it. If you're going to use end-rhyme, perhaps because such a heavy stress is on 'spoke' in the line before, you could start with a new sentence after that.
Thanks for entering!
DancingRed.
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