Stuck In Time

Wrote this a year and half ago, still like it, though

Trees stay stuck in soil,

growing, like death

in time, but inside

what is not seen

can’t move or be

anything but alive.

 

I’ve stared through glass,

seen these trees grow

in motionless time,

seasons passed,

like thoughts, fall leaves

recycled back to soil.

 

This moment came,

and went, away,

but not without

leaving a seed,

planted, like a tree,

always seen, inside.

 

This memory, fazed

and cut by faults,

sometimes stares,

with stillness,

impaired sadness

that comes and goes.

 

The soil cries,

not my green eyes,

they’re gray, inside

wisdom of apathy,

awareness of failure,

self-isolation of sorrow.

 

I am conscious enough,

to be loved, or realized,

even briefly, like life’s

moments passed,

still never known,

like I know, my own.

Author's Note

If you can't yet tell, I like to stare at trees and think about them

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

I find them to be magnificent, too! And I love to make mention of them in verse...it gives a kind of comfort zone to the poem.

[Maxwell]

I like this one too. Trees and time, time and trees; something about the two combined makes for great poetry.

This is not as powerful as some of your other works, but it's definitely beautiful in its own conceptual way. Even though I'm sure you could rewrite this, I don't think you have any intention to, and if you did I know that you know what you might change. But I have pieces like this too, and, like a photograph, they take us back to the times when we were writing them.

Anyway, good job. If you really want a critical review, message me and I'll revisit it.
Enjoyable read, thanks.