Upstart Photographer: Old Tree

I was driving on a country road a few weeks back and came across an amazing tree (I love photographing trees).

I was so happy with these shots I wrote a poem to accompany them (so what’s new lol).

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Old Tree. A poem.

Old tree, gnarled and
twisted beyond reproach.
What dark days and
sundered years have you
borne witness to?

Out here on the sullen veldt,
where an asphalt artery
keeps you company,
squirming for reassurance
in the afternoon glare.

Your rings are tired and
worn, wasting like the
wintry spume that lingers
on a breeze of pretence
and happenstance.

Old tree, wise and wizened,
faulty and faultless,
crooked and dumbfounded.
Here you stand until tomorrow,
while the world passes by
without a wave or tear.

Stephen Thompson 2018

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Swim. A poem.

Dewdrops on my skin
as I rise from your embrace.
Your satin caress beckons
and I return to your verge.
Each twist and turn I take
moves me closer to apogee,
whence all efforts expire.
Here within your tidal girth,
I float in liquid suggestion.
Here amongst deliquescing salt,
I make my mark and plough you deep,
from here until eternity’s siren call.

If you liked that, then you’ll love the poems in my first book The All or the Nothing! And at just $5.99 for 62 poems, that’s less than 10 cents a poem!
To find out how to get a copy, click here.
Support starving poets everywhere!

The Black Tree. A poem.

The tree is black and formless,
its charred soul departed
so many years before
from this noxious darkness.
This fractured stump,
dreaming of chlorophyll
and carbon dioxide smells.
This burned and sullen timber
that in this wasteland dwells.

If you liked that, then you’ll love the poems in my first book The All or the Nothing! And at just $5.99 for 62 poems, that’s less than 10 cents a poem!
To find out how to get a copy, click here.
Support starving poets everywhere!

Black Rain. A poem.

I watched the black rain
from my window.
It spilled down the pane
in tarry streaks,
a Malevich canvas.

I watched the flowers
gently steam and wilt.
The dark water spilled down
onto the road and into the gutters.
It flowed into the sewers and
thence to the sea.

There it merged with
chemicals, plastics, dead fish
and carcinogens,
taking its rightful place
amongst humanity’s leavings.

Black rain
spilled down my cheeks
in tarry streaks.

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