Home of: Prose, Poetry & Contests
rss feed
Prose-n-Poetry

Prose-n-Poetry.com

Email Us [e-mail]
Enter our Poetry Contest and Win a Cash Prize !
Tell your friends! We Pay You to Comment!
Welcome !

Please Sign In
MemberID

password
Save Cookie?  
Get lost password

Join Us

Points Reference

NEW! PnP Contests
Member Contests
Contest Winners

Sailor Moon Home
Games

Members
Moonatics
Gold Writers
Silver Writers
Free Members

Galleries
Sailor Moon

Music
Sailor Moon
Christmas
Read !
Poetry
Stories
Books
Columns
Recipes
MoonNotes
Write !
Poetry
Stories
Books
Recipes
MoonNotes
Workshops
Poetry Workshop
Stories Workshop
Books Workshop
Reference
Poetry Help
Stories Help
F.A.Q

Programs
Sailor Moon Episodes
Banners
Resources

On Line
Frank Fields
Janelle Martin-Dent
Eric Gasparich
3 Writers

Bunny Franz
1 Free Members

4 Members
44 Guests

Rotten!
by Richard Reed Jr
copyright 03-02-2006


Age Rating: 10 to 127

 
The friendly oak tree; marking my daily journey,
It had to be chopped down; rotten, decayed,
I had to watch; rotten, decayed.

I saw it felled before my tear stained eyes,
I withered and wondered how to find my path,
Once so clear and bright.

Where once, I gave no thought to it,
Confusion strains,
Consciousness wanes.

Without the guidance of my friend, the tree, I grope along,
It is of no use, attempting to recall my path,
The tree, I, the path had all been one,

The tree, now decayed, I, now withered, the path, now lost forever,
The tree, now decayed; light blinds my eyes and wind deafens my ears,
My senses overburdened; no path can I see,

The wind appears to whisper, "The true path can never be found”,
There exists only self, vanity, emptiness,
All paths return to that void, choose any,

Estranged now, from the familiar comfort of the sturdy oak,
I trudge aimlessly along no path,
Angrily, kicking oak leaves, this way and that,

What is this, blown suddenly to my feet?
An acorn! Does it define all?
The oak, myself, the path, ....... the universe?

Now, alone, I toast my loyal friend, the oak,
With sour grape wine,
And worship the mystery of acorns.




Spell Check Rhymer Poetry Analyst


Help Us Stop Plagiarism - Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize. To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste. click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before you recommend or rate the work highly...
Google
If you think this work is plagiarized please


Select a Random Work
from Poetry


Comments on this Article/Poem:
Click on the commenter's name to see their Author's Page

03-03-2006 David Pekrul    

I don't know what to make of this, but I like it. It is as if the oak was an anchor, a familar part of the narrators existance, which once gone, has left the narrator wandering aimlessly. This is really good; very thought provoking.


Visitor Reads: 367
Total Reads: 389
Comments: 1

Author's Page

Email the Author

Add a Comment




Favorite of:





Send Page to a Friend
Points Reference Privacy
PnP Terms of Service Contact Us
  SEO Software

Visitors
View Stats