Those roots of ominous origin

I heard a sound

like a whip cracking

I looked

but saw nothing

I heard a sound

like a solid wooden door slamming

I looked

but saw nothing

I heard the sound

of a car crashing

but could not look anymore

my mind stopped working

sprawling, and broken, at an intersection of life

my tree, and those stubborn roots of strife.

Author's Note

Image = Augustus Fimar

Reviews

[Ardra]

Why does this poem remind me of horror movies.... :p
Or almost like the devil is behind the person...with a whip....
we should help the tree... says me...:)

[Attentive_Ambience]

I love the phrasing of words and the repetition. The title fits this feckin' perfectly, as does the photograph. I'm definitely feeling the ominous vibes of some bad karma rolling off this one, but I cannot help but enjoy it at the same time. Happiness in misery.

[SleeplessVolcano]

....yeah...I like it when that happens, even though one did not plan it like that at the start.....when I looked at the image, which is rather old, I imagined that all the chopped up wood of my tree may just see a few families through an icy cold winter...:)
Thanks for reviewing.....mmmm...now I feel like warming my hands on an open fire...:)