Now that I’m finally able to see my computer screen again, I’ve been spending my week furiously trying to get caught up on my voiceover business. I have auditions I need to record, scripts I need to write, and commercials I need to produce – and deadlines that are staring me down. So today, I’m reposting something I originally shared exactly one year ago, on July 19, 2013.
It’s a poem that will always be dear to my heart, not only because it was published but because it is both an adult AND a children’s poem – and since I’ve gained many new followers in the past year, I wanted to give them an opportunity to read it, if they wanted to. For all of today’s Poetry Friday links and info, Tabatha Yeats is hosting the roundup at The Opposite of Indifference!
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I don’t think I’ve ever posted a previously-published poem here, since I started this little blog nearly a year ago. Today, I am!
This was written at least 3 years ago, possibly longer – I wish I could find my original copy that had the completion date on it. But like most poems, it went through several revisions before I was finally happy with it, so it is the most recent revision I’m sharing now.
As I mentioned, this was previously published in the Tall Grass Writer’s Guild’s anthology, Seasons of Change (Outrider p|Press, 2010). Although it’s a poem more geared to adults, younger folks may very well understand what I’m describing. (And I’m eager to see if you know what the poem is about, too!)
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“In the Glen”
Old stump
rotting, torn by time, shredded with age
browned and blackened through fires and storms,
impassioned hooves and finely-honed axes.
Long ago, abandoned even by ants and mites and worms
who took what they could, consumed their fill
and, satiated and exhausted,
left
to scavenge elsewhere.
Rings once worn proudly
perfect, circumscribe –
nearly inscrutable
like the history they keep.
In younger years
its boughs bore fruit;
lush canopy,
shade;
firewood,
home,
a vessel.
Now
years after boy,
as old stump dies
softly
bark and pith and fiber
fall away
to compost
and one lone leaf –
green, young,
hopeful –
sprouts forth
from the remains…
old stump
once again
gives.
– © 2010, Matt Forrest Esenwine
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old stump
once again
gives.
Yes! This is your Giving Tree. 🙂 Thanks for sharing.
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Lovely, yes, The Giving Tree.
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Lovely poem and I love trees!
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Thank you all!
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Hi, Matt. There are so many nature-related posts this week. I love the line “the history they keep.” Trees keep history in a way so different to our human records.
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And interestingly, Laura, the history THEY keep is less subjective. Thanks for popping in!
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Matt,
I love your poem. I especially like the weight of the single word lines. Each of those words make an interesting poem, only eight words long.
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Thanks, Joy – I hadn’t thought of that, but I suppose you’re right!
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I like the reference to the rings-worn proudly. Good to take us through the journey as you did. I think I mostly bought my new home because of an ancient cottonwood right outside. Trees-special!
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Thank you, Linda!
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Love “torn by time, shredded with age.” I’ve seen some beautiful portraits of old people that might fit that description as well.
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Hmmm…the Giving Tree WAS rather human, too – intriguing observation, Michelle!
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How absolutely beautiful, Matt. I love poems about trees. I take so many pictures of them, I feel I must have lived as a dryad in my past life or in a parallel universe. These are my favorite lines:
In younger years
its boughs bore fruit;
lush canopy,
shade;
firewood,
home,
a vessel.
– Gorgeous lines, Matt.
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Thanks so much, Myra…really appreciate it!
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Appropriate that Forrest should write about trees, right? I especially like the quiet strength behind the wearing away: “nearly inscrutable/
like the history they keep.”
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What can I say…when you grow up around trees, you write about trees! Thanks, Tabatha.
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Matt,
I followed the story of that old stump, browned and blackened to compost with a new color sprouting with life. Loved the visual experience that you brought to the reader.
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Thanks, Carol…I had to wonder whatever happened to The Giving Tree, since the last we saw of it was a fresh stump. Time marches on!
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The cycle of life. Lovely.
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Glad you liked it, Mary Lee!
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Hard to pick a favorite line, but the “one lone leaf – green, young, hopeful” was so very green in my mind!
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Thank you, Monica! I appreciate you stopping by.
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