Black Poetry : nature's journey (not what you think)

dnommo

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Mar 19, 2001
2,059
16
Baltimore, Md.
Occupation
Teacher of English, Literature & Poetry
Driving down the tree covered lane
I shade my eyes from the interruption
Of sun beams through leaves as I
Wonder if I could grasp its warmth;

I opened the sunroof to the salute of
Oaks holding hands over the road
Covered with multi-colored leafs
Painting a picture of crayola dreams;

I look through my rear view mirror as
I increase my pace to see the dance of
Colors flying high as though they believe
The wind will carry them back home;

I wonder if I drive fast enough could I
Throw them high enough for the oaks
To reach down and grab them just so
They could have another try at strength;

Maybe so but that will change the fate
Of life and the purpose of their fall onto
A road traveled my so many before me
And so many yet to appear in my sight;

That one day someone may pull over and
Get out to search for that one rustic colored
Leaf to carry with them through the day on
A journey so few leaves are willing to travel;

Could today be the day that another leaf
Will fall unwillingly or shall he let go of
Safety’s embrace to fall into the hands of
destiny awaiting them on the road we call life?

Tell me…which leaf are you today?

meditate
 
Bishop...i'm gonna drop a few in a bottle and toss em into the brook so that they can float down stream into the protection fot he lighthouse...the garden is lovely this time of the year...

thansk for the read bro and keep shining that light...there are many who need our direction...

one.
 
The circle of life although not in its original form teaches so much to those of thought who can appreciate the nuances and irony of that it brings. The mighty oak or weeping willow whose crowning glory like the locks of a mighty queen being cut but not in vain complete the cycle to be reborn once again in the spring as a king. Question: How can natures sin altered state of being continue to hold secretes of majesty and grace?

When poetry becomes a carefully illustrated work of art to be tasted by all the senses it transcends the ordinary and in this poem my brother I can tell you the road you were on, the time of day you were their and the speed you were traveling, (you need to slow down), (LOL)
Excellent poem
 

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