The Hanging Tree

my first significant attempt at narrative .

THE HANGING TREE

 

Wandering through wondering mind, his misery
takes him to new days; to havened Holocene.
One day climbing is all a man might know,
and one day his capacity takes him to a new world below
the solid ground. As months pass by his sanity slips
alongside the seasons, into past with his lover’s lips
he’ll never kiss again. New life after new life he can’t
be taking on. Much like the journey he one day set upon…

Aching footsteps grew wearier and bones grew numb.
A day of wildness in this field through which they’d run.
Searching for that place where they could keel down and rest.
Somewhere he could thank God for he was truly blessed.
Somewhere they could see sunsets, watch one and embrace;
where he could lose himself in the resplendence of her face.
They stumbled on, hand in hand, and stopped there
abruptly on the moor as just ahead was a sight of great allure.

Before the lovers stood a willow tree, standing out
amongst the rest, from which new life began to sprout.
A tree of provenance, a birth place to their love.
a sheltered spot to be together, with nature keen above.
A place of pureness, innocence, undisturbed and rich
in prosperity, blossoming and the answer to his wish.
A dream design of which one can’t describe through words on
a writing pad, such were the qualities this awesome seedling had.

Glittering green leaves hung down like the black curls
from her head, shading the strong bark from the world
as it did the same for them. Bunkered in the meadow
the tree stood tall over a field of greenish yellow
grass. Its roots ran deep into the earth’s core fires;
a stagnant soldier protecting the suburban mire,
alive in their love. They sat there for hours, sometimes
silence was enough, and then today was all they would discuss.

The moment was added to as the sparrow’s wings
fluttered between them, clipping halos from sunbeam rings;
floating between them as the needle eye meets thread.
He flew above them to feel the moment, crossed his legs
as he sat in their tree, and filled up their space;
he too smitten by her honour, her purity and her grace.
Nature was the perfect fallacy to this day, God created
beauty just like this; memories and his lover’s luscious kiss.

The daylight beat down on the utopian tree,
its branches casting shadows like protective shields
They took to each other and just kept holding on,
their lips peeled apart under the twilight sun.
He said ‘I just love you, I don’t know why, I just do…’
And continued ‘…and since God made you He loves me too’.
They were so far from home and he so far from not caring,
making daisy chains, oblivious to all of the imminent pains.

In the fall their love began to die, ironic symphony
with their sanctuary. He knows that night too vividly.
Withered, whereas the blossoms may be reborn-
their fervor faded fast. In the winter it was worn
beyond repair. Mind over heart as he was concerned.
Truth is ruthless, that is the lesson of which he learned.
So low those drowning branches hung, departing on
showering drought of a love he couldn’t live without.

Their embers once danced in the summer storms.
Still, her sparks are always bright, just one of her charms.
If his heart fades out and bones lie wasted in the rain
he knows that simply her love can make them rise again.
They were dreaming of snowfall and to have it all-
together, ‘But in the summer darling it never falls’.
He told her ‘I love you,’ she whispered ‘I know’.
He told her again and she kissed him slow.

Winter was falling and he was standing there outside;
all to quickly her words hit home and he vanished to subside.
What good is loving anything once you’ve felt hurt?
The first spots of snowflakes fell and kissed the turf
running with his tears, the frost froze up his eyes.
Slushed up so his couldn’t see the pitiful sky.
Haunted by dystopian dreams he lay with eyes open
all night; when they closed it was her in his sight.

February came around and she was with another man
who he doubted could love her in the ways he can.
He still felt her touch when he turned out the lights,
She was going to bed with another touch every night.
He began planning out a sanity conclusive return,
fearing how his heart and lucidity were beginning to burn
out. He couldn’t move his mind from her, the only one
he’d ever prized. Who he’d loved, glorified and idolised.

He made that trip in the spring. All was the same.
Except the solemn, the haunting mentions of her name.
Crisp, pure leaves locked onto him as her penetrating eyes
holding gaze, whispering as his angel falls his demons rise.
Masked horror on displays of devotion, all too far away.
Once so high on his mind as it all seems to be today.
Crossing the desert he held out his hand, there was no
hand to cross with, a desolate journey to get on with.

Taken back to a time, he was in some haven off his feet,
embracing, whispering ‘your love will be safe with me’.
His Genesis tree has come round full circle and he’s bemused.
Heart beating slower but stronger, he’s in an endless muse
and steadily it’s clear that his love was built on stalwart stone.
Her voice screams ‘hold on’ louder but he can’t do what he’s told
He’d make it all right, there’d be a new day if he just
found a way how. But he doesn’t… history stops now.

A devil away, a devil away, heaven is just a demon away.
An angel is missing, slipping further every night he prays.
Drinking regrets, flooding in failure and sipping curses,
step by step sanity slipping away as the weather worsens.
Founded, courageous, his shivers start what she begun
He doesn’t know she cries for hours when he’s gone.
Grasping antique branches with timeless aged memories
he climbs. He takes his pledge on their loveless tree.

Author's Note

any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, as it was such a large project and an important one to me I want it to be perfect!!

Reviews

[Bluefire]

Very good and well written. I lke it. :3

[TheJordBaker]

thanks :)

[Bluefire]

No Problem.

[...]

I don't believe in criticizing a poets expression, it is their own to express. That being said, I have none! This is a beautiful expression of emotional art :)

[TheJordBaker]

thank you!! :)

[Brandon Mathis]

Man, i really liked it. I don't really have any criticism about, yeah it's long but poems don't have to be short. Keep it up!!!

[TheJordBaker]

thanks so much!!

[Brandon Mathis]

no problem man least i can do

[afra]

beautiful and deep ..good job

[TheJordBaker]

thanks :)