Tree

Trees have always amazed and captivated me.
But I have only ever seen them in one stage of their lifetime, whereas in this peom I was able to see the full story and imagine it in my head.
I am not a pro poet so I can't really say much about the imagry.
But I loved this poem just the way that it was.
From beginning to end.
This poem was sad but beautiful.

I liked that one! The creativity of people on this site is amazing!
Where did you get this waesome idea?
I have no problems with this, so carry on!
Shananers!

Ooooo...lovely. love it. adore it. very clever. i love the end.

i like the way you captured the essence of the aging of the tree, from seed to sapling to tree, to a dead log. very good.

I liked this poem. I think trees are beautiful any way and you really captured the beautiness of the growing process of the tree. Loved it. Great writing, I can't wait to hear more from you. Good luck.

Hey, Selene!

I like the theory of this. The tree growing and shaping. But yes, you need some more imagery! That’s cool, although the new descriptions will alter the form slightly, you’ll still be able to keep the feel of the poem there. ^^
I point out that this “brushing the breath away/from the sky” is a lovely image. Don’t delete! ^^

First! Let’s look at what a seed looks like, for your first line. Small, hard, is it hiding deep underneath the guise of soil, or is it waiting, just under the thin veneer of dirt? Perhaps this why it fails, it is too deep, too shallow. The sapling, is it the bright, new green that all the other growling plants are, or can you see the light brown tinge to that first, curling limb?

“shooting out/flying forward” – both good terms, keep them in there. The others are also good, but they’re simple words. Think of how things look, how they are. If you were – heaven help me – a sapling, just edging out of your own, safe, sphere, how would you do it? Perhaps this may help, as a small example of the kind of imagery you could use;

Split, cold moisture seeping within,
The seed is broken. Tired, stretching,
Sapling raises, twisting and curling from
His empty husk. He is awake for dawn,
The dew drops petaling his tips as he groans
And shifts forward, up higher.
They call “Faster, Hurry!” And the small voices
Echo. Air rushes about him, he strains.
His tips moan, brushing the breath away from the sky.
Small crack.
Huge pressure.
He is falling, limbs flailing as his simple tips arch
Towards his waiting grave.

I enjoyed your ending, and a lot of the simple imagery you used. I think if you just expanded on it you might find something that fits what you need for the assignment. The imagery is usually a simple description, just fancied up by some extra words, or an added colour or feeling. I know you can do that.

If you need any help, or I’ve made no sense whatsoever. Just Pm me, or find me in chat, I’m more than willing to work through the poem with you.

*Hearts* Le Penguin.