Thursday, 4 December 2014


Should it be a tree, drawing
Moist life from a mind’s
Tilth of humus and sediment?

Or like a beast, vividly
Swerving and glancing, fleetingly
Glimpsed in the dappled forest?

Or crisp, and uniform,
Each facet aureate,
And polished to conform?

Choose for yourself. I
Will not complain. Yet you
Can tell what I root for.

Just one of my considerations, not necessarily Christian, on poems and poetry.

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I'm glad to hear how this strikes you!