Tuesday, 11 March 2008

Ranch Trees by Chris Crittenden

frondy ashes
clasp squiggles of sun,
trickle the heat
across whispers

while breeze
tousles their manes,
airy green foams
above centurial brawn.

who touches these tomes,
learns from the roughs
of their grimalkin bark?
their midlife knotholes?
their sapling dreds?

who remembers them
when dreaming under plaster
as they sentinel midnight,
sighing?


Chris Crittenden, Maine, USA

5 comments:

Crafty Green Poet said...

Chris Crittenden lives near a lighthouse in a remote coastal area. There are no traffic or street lights nearby. He believes poetry is explifies the depth and honesty to which humans can attain. Some recent acceptances are from Poems Niederngasse, Poetic Diversity, DMQ Review and Thick With Conviction. He thanks you for reading his poems!

Leatherdykeuk said...

Lovely piece, especially 'grimalkin bark'

Tommaso Gervasutti said...

"trickle the heat
across whispers"

is perfect

and it's more than words...it's
what happens.

Great choice this poem Juliet.
Best wishes,
Davide

Tina Trivett said...

I remember them....they have been here much longer than I. They teach us if we pay attention.

Great write...much enjoyed.

Billy said...

Very strong imagery, highly compressed. First-rate work all the way!