Photograph by Lizzie Ballagher
This week the readers chose Poem 1 – Strong as the winner. This is by Angie Butler. Congratulations Angie and thanks to everyone who sent on poems and/or voted.
Poem 1
Strong
You are strong, protective,
there in light and shade,
you bear my weight
when I cling to you,
support me when
I lean on you,
shelter my tears
even in the darkest night.
You sway to my moods,
creak and complain,
but always stand fast
and help me breathe.
Angie Butler
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Poem 2
Last to Go
Mist hugs the dawn,
not yet ready to be torn from his lovers arms,
daylight struggles through the dark
your branches appear grasping
spreading towering above my head.
My hand strays to your naked bark
I beg for forgiveness to the silent world
and sit on damp leaves
at your solid base
in a fast shifting world.
Andrew Scotson
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Poem 3
Lost to New
Dark dense greenwood,
Once upper haven to owls
And reign of arrogant fauna
Now stands upright, flickering;
Remnants of the ‘lost’ silver box
Opened by the hungry wind,
Breaks the frozen silence
Zinnia of dust traverses to ‘new’ found city.
Denim Deka
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Poem 4
Tree
This tree is many
springing from its base
stem stemming from stem
stretching up, extending
arcing acrobats and athletes
leaping without loosing themselves;
it doesn’t need to take flight
to establish its freedom,
this tree is one at the heel rooted in earth.
It has no boundary but tapers into the mist.
Derek Sellen
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Poem 5
A tree is for life
lie beneath it’s noble spread
where twining branches
ease a fevered brain and leaves
gently soothe an aching heart
Martin John
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Poem 6
At sixty I stand beneath this tree
Looking up, like being present at my own birth,
Looking at all that might be
Knowing that through the filigree
Of possibilities some things have been,
Others have not. Nothing was seen
Back then. I could not know
And no one else saw what I might be worth
Beyond my next breath. Would I go
That way, or stay this way, or not? So,
Although I’ve moved far and seen
Many things at sixty what does it mean?
Great branches spread; from them smaller ones
Reach – a lesser reach. From earth
And root twigs carry life to leaves. The sun’s
Life meets what rises, buds form. It begins
Afresh, the bounded cyclical of grey and green.
Sixty years I carry, reach, spread. What does it mean,
This long forming, with it’s mix of days?
This much at least: I’m bounded, rooted. From birth
To sixty all the unexpected ways
Carry the same life from the root. I gaze
Upward again and see the grey, the green.
A filigree of what was, what might have been..
Michael Docker
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Poem 7
Duty-bound
The trivialities, time wasters,
The frivolous or mundane,
The distractions, excuses
Or missed opportunities,
Lie only in the mists of life.
While duty, as a firm tree,
Stands boldly in the foreground
Stretching its branches
Into every nook and cranny of life
And can never be suppressed.
June Moore
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Poem 8
Scavengers
They come like friends
Sharing your space
Watching out for you
Preventing the wind getting through
Turning green to give you colour
Protecting, shielding, caring
But slowly, oh so slowly.
They smile
And breathe the air you breathe
Drink the drink you need
Penetrate your seed
Take your space
And light.
Till you are left
With darkness
And forget
That life was once yours
For living
Anita Pinto
