Trees find purchase in human remains; Some lush, some losing their leaves, some bare; but Screw the symbolism! Am I right? Or was I A seven-year-old, devastated When his beloved tree corpse, Ship of dreams and fantasy voyages to outer space, Was barbarously hacked down in cold sap For being Unsafe, supposedly; In seventh grade, or sixth, given detention During a school fieldtrip for climbing Into an unfamiliar tree, Drawn By its low hanging limbs, open Arms, So many bare, warm arms, generous refuge From the... The unknowns of the universe Now remain Lying in purchased burial plots; Inhuman, really, Because they aren't.
W3 poetry prompt
Let’s write poetry together!
When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.–Ben Harper (b. 1969)
Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!