The Dying Tree

A Poem By Heather Jones // 11/24/2018

the dying tree: bathed in red,
all alone it hangs its head,
burdened with the weight of dread
that greets its tired limbs.

memories of early days
when life was new are but a haze,
a tribute to Time’s foreign ways;
its flitting, raging whims.

gone are days of innocence—
the leafy greens, the floral scents—
when fickle Time had words to mince,
attempts to hide the truth,

the dying tree: it couldn’t see
how life danced by so tauntingly,
and though despite its fervent plea,
time snatched away its youth.

so now apart from every deed,
and every act, and every seed,
the time has come for it to bleed.
the time has come for it to bleed.

Comments

Hold on, let me pick up my jaw from off the ground.

I could write a poem about how amazing your poetry is, but then I’d get discouraged about how cheesy and meaningless my poem looked next to yours. So I’m not gonna do that.

In all seriousness, this is gorgeous. The imagery is perfect, the rhythm is flawless, the metaphors are deep, and the way you repeat the third line on the last verse is perfection. I’m going to have to read through it again a few times to let it’s beauty fully sink in.

To sum up my horribly voiced thoughts: you have a great gift with words, dear. Thank you for sharing that gift with us.

Damaris Ann | Sun, 11/25/2018

I don’t thrive off of chaos: chaos thrives off of me.

*cries*

Oh my gosh thank you so much ;;-;; I can't even express how grateful I am! That means so much!!

Heather Jones | Tue, 11/27/2018

psalm 84:10 esv / *thumbs-up*

*cries*

Oh my word, this means so much and I can't express how grateful I am! Thank you!!

Heather Jones | Tue, 11/27/2018

psalm 84:10 esv / *thumbs-up*

Welp.

Double post. Feel free to ignore xDD

Heather Jones | Tue, 11/27/2018

psalm 84:10 esv / *thumbs-up*

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