April 16, 2013
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Axe Man
Trimming trees of long lived growth
snapping the green branches of hope
cutting away the dry and dead
and cracking the swollen jointsThe axe man takes one handed strokes
Slicing white flesh through green ripe skin
unmeasured clean painless cuts
ground heaping of fallen limbsNo blood or blinding tears are shed
no screams of sad defeat
Among the roots the limbs the leaves
The axe man stands still and straightDSS
Dogwoods
All the laboring force speeds to work
Both man and woman with plastic coffee cup in hand
In such a hurry to start the day
Not looking left or right or toward the sun
They come upon a man enjoying the morning
slowly admiring the roadside dogwood’s bloom
They blast their horn and get up real close
As destroyers of joy, without seeing or knowing.
There is important work to do.
How can the sight or smell of a bud or bloom compare?
DSS May 3, 2011
Comments (6)
I do really truly like the first one! The second is discordant and sad. I’m tired of mean people – I had to deal with some today…
I miss dogwood. I grew up in Connecticut on a piece of property surrounded by dogwood…yes, we rush, rush, rush everywhere. So foolish, really.
One has to be all business about pruning, that’s for sure. Axeman, indeed.
later…
S
@murisopsis - Glad you liked Axe Man, I call it a metered slant rhyme.
@SandraErickson - I really like the dogwood too. I am looking into planting one to replace my old worn out globe willow in the front yard. Thank you for the rec!
Beware, the Axe man cometh,
heh. forgive me for catching up on your month of poetry, in one visit. love that you are sharing both the old and new. odd, i miss dogwoods, too. but by year’s end, i plan on being in the South again