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geoff
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My first attempt, well, gotta start somewhere!

 

Observations of a tree:

 

 

My food of choice?

It's fresh air pie.

 

I have no voice,

But I get by.

 

My food of choice?

Plucked from the sky.

 

You have a voice,

I hear you cry.

 

My drink of choice?

Falls from the sky.

 

To get your juice,

A shop you pay.

 

My drink of choice?

Fresh near daily.

 

Your poison juice,

Sour mash whisky.

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Here's one I prepared earlier - just now in fact.

 

I Love Trees

 

The birds are sweet, I love their song

But their tree cannot stay for long

The tree is not in the right place

It just has got too little space

Forgive me when its gone, oh please

Don’t get me wrong – I love trees

 

Each day my car I have to clean

The birds they aim, they are so mean

Such effort oh it really grieves

In winter as I scoop up leaves

Forgive me when its gone, oh please

Don’t get me wrong – I love trees

 

And that one there, if I can

Remove it and park my caravan

And that one there makes my house dark

My second car right there could park

Forgive me when its gone, oh please

Don’t get me wrong – I love trees

 

It’s near my roof, yes that one there

Just take it down, we need fresh air

The guy next door, he’s such a swine

Lets all his branches grow over mine

Forgive me when its gone, oh please

Don’t get me wrong – I love trees

 

The drive’s too narrow, getting out is hell

Lets have that one out as well

The last tree really makes me worry

It waves around in windy flurry

Forgive me when its gone, oh please

Don’t get me wrong – I love trees

 

Don’t quote too much, Im not too wealthy

And all this worry made me unhealthy

They have to go and most sincere

I’ve done my bit for the atmosphere

Forgive me when its gone, oh please

Don’t get me wrong – I love trees

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My land lady gave me this poem that one of her friends who recantly passed away wrote..Not really a fan of poetry but found it quite interesteing to see a poets view of us!

 

The tree feller

 

All at once there was a man in the tree.

I'd misseed his quick ascent to fix

the first pulley two houses high,thread the red lifeline.

i discovered him in the branches,broad belted like a warrior

dangling iron loops and clasps,coils of rope ,the thigh bands

that would bear him if he fell.

When he nonchanchalantly let go his chainsaw,

let it swing down on its long strap,

i felt the shock of its weight on my own body.

 

He monkeys up a limb in a sudden gusts

gripping the bark with spiked boots that leave scars,

wraps rope in intricate thick knots

then sighns to an earthbound mate to brace the pulley and back off.

Gently,precisley,he cuts two calculated notches,

and a roped branch swings miraculously round the trunk,

some how not crashing him,and lands

exactly where he planned in the minute garden.

he smiles.

 

A skilled man who loves his work is irrestistable.

I go upstairs window to see better.

Branch by leafy branch he works upwards

moving thoughtfully from hold to hold,feeling with hands and feet

(he wears no gloves like his friend below)

pitching rope gently,deftly,over the next target,

above all balancing.

He never leans to far or stretches out,

knows gravity is his foe. Could be a dancer.

The saw moans in his work

sprays sawdust on the wind like yellow smoke

and steadily reduces

that once broad,leaf thick,life rich,wind brush dome

to two grey fingers in the sky.

 

lashed like a hug to one of them he carefully

carves through the wood above him

pauses to test the air,the balance,his own stance

then gives a push and sends a heavy log

free falling'thonk'on to the echoing earth.

Length by length he drops the drums of wood,

while out of sight the harsh growl of the shredder

reduces the tree's centuries to chips.

at last only one barren trunk is left.

he abseils down and sheds his ropes and shackles,

leans into a last long cut that makes conclusion,

and lays the carcase out.

no walls ,no roses and no men were hurt.

 

now I must learn

a sudden wide sky,an absence overhead,

a new print of the sun's light on my land.

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When I was young, I loved the trees

Their timeless certainty sure beneath my hand

And wondered at the things they saw

Beyond the lifetime of one man.

I used to think, if they could speak,

Such tales to tell, so much to know

If I could hear their whispered sigh

Of sorrow, sadness from so long ago,

Of life, so changed for nothing more

Than now, this time, for comfort and self worth

The self-set man whose measured time's

So short, but how he owns this Earth.

If only we could hear the trees

And understand the words they say

Then we might learn enough to see

Beyond ourself, our own today.

Now I am old, too old to dream,

Beyond the need for wealth and fame,

I hear he trees and understand

The old man and the tree

They are the same.

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For the Arbdog lovers, can't take credit but thought i'd share.

 

You feed me when I'm hungry

you keep water in my dish

you let me sleep on anything

or in any place I wish

 

you sometimes let me lick your hands

or even lick your face

despite the fact I've licked myself

in every private place

 

you taught me how to come when called

you taught me how to sit

you always let me go outside

so I can take a s***

 

You always have my loyalty

until the bitter end

cause after all, it's plain to see

you are a dogs best friend.

 

:lol:

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