To Be a Hollow Tree

 

To Be A Hollow Tree

To have fallen, unluckily plucked by some Midwestern storm

Scorched ocher-black wounds

Hollowed thin to just a shell with heaven’s electricity,

Life lost to its single strike of chaotic symmetry

As though dark sorcery is gathering the light in streams

A cyclone wisdom of category five, chaotic

Evil has character--remiss of personification,

Still remorseless as famines

To ravage structures standing in Life’s true fiction….

 

To be a hollow tree

An empty groan echoing with the wind, toward the moon

Of something lost �" now transformation’s proof, new

Evidence of what again may come

Just a nook, now home to the moss and creatures

Sheltering under its elm or Weeping Willow’s roof

Inside this room of the dead, hollowed bark

Leaning and unashamed of its doom

A trophy of climatic change

How history becomes a future

Even with the silence of that mourning tree,

Even when its glory is entombed…

We learn how to pay closer attention

To our moment’s lesson of observing truth,

Learning to look for lightning from life’s stormy berths…

 

Now Assuaged and anew.

Reviews

[Butch Decatoria]

HERE IS HOW THE POEM SHOULD READ, JUST TO MAKE SURE IT IS UNDERSTOOD AND READ AS IT IS SUPPOSE TO ... WITHOUT ANY TYPOS OR ERRORS....


To Be A Hollow Tree
To have fallen, unluckily plucked by some Midwestern storm
Scorched ocher-black wounds
Hollowed thin to just a shell with heaven's electricity,
Life lost to its single strike of chaotic symmetry
As though dark sorcery is gathering the light in streams
A cyclone wisdom of category five, chaotic
Evil has character--remiss of personification,
Still remorseless as famines
To ravage structures standing in Life's true fiction�.

To be a hollow tree
An empty groan echoing with the wind, toward the moon
Of something lost � now transformation's proof, new
Evidence of what again may come
Just a nook, now home to the moss and creatures
Sheltering under its elm or Weeping Willow's roof
Inside this room of the dead, hollowed bark
Leaning and unashamed of its doom
A trophy of climatic change
How history becomes a future
Even with the silence of that mourning tree,
Even when its glory is entombed�
We learn how to pay closer attention
To our moment's lesson of observing truth,
Learning to look for lightning from life's stormy berths�