April 16, 2013

  • Axe Man

    Trimming trees of long lived growth
    snapping the green branches of hope
    cutting away the dry and dead
    and cracking the swollen joints

    The axe man takes one handed strokes
    Slicing white flesh through green ripe skin
    unmeasured clean painless cuts
    ground heaping of fallen limbs

    No blood or blinding tears are shed
    no screams of sad defeat
    Among the roots the limbs the leaves
    The axe man stands still and straight

    DSS

     

    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.

  • @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 ;)  

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