This is inspired by the Legend of the Talking Animals, or to put it another way, let every log have its day!
Gone is my cloak of dark greenery,
I may be as ancient as the Ark
But that's little comfort when you've no bark,
And my trunk is warped and bent,
Split by lightning that was heaven sent;
But some parts of me are still fine,
Like my heartwood which is going to Palestine,
Or so said the gardener to a visiting stranger,
Said I'd make a magnificent manger;
Ah well, I don't mind becoming a baby's cradle,
Better than being a lowly bowl or ladle,
And superior to the fate of young healthy trees
Whose luscious leaves will never feel the breeze.
For they too are bound for distant Palestine,
Not as timber destined to help a baby sleep,
Instead they'll help a nation wail and weep;
What I gain in service will be their cruel loss,
I as a stable manger, they as a Roman cross.
Chris Fernie, 2006
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 598 times
Written on 2006-12-13 at 11:23
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The Tree's Tale
I'm a gnarled old cypress tree,Gone is my cloak of dark greenery,
I may be as ancient as the Ark
But that's little comfort when you've no bark,
And my trunk is warped and bent,
Split by lightning that was heaven sent;
But some parts of me are still fine,
Like my heartwood which is going to Palestine,
Or so said the gardener to a visiting stranger,
Said I'd make a magnificent manger;
Ah well, I don't mind becoming a baby's cradle,
Better than being a lowly bowl or ladle,
And superior to the fate of young healthy trees
Whose luscious leaves will never feel the breeze.
For they too are bound for distant Palestine,
Not as timber destined to help a baby sleep,
Instead they'll help a nation wail and weep;
What I gain in service will be their cruel loss,
I as a stable manger, they as a Roman cross.
Chris Fernie, 2006
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 598 times
Written on 2006-12-13 at 11:23
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Kathy Lockhart |
