Darren White Poet Personification

Notes About The Poem

A Tree That Crumples

I am deceased;
  I perished that day.
    Nothing is left of me,
      I left myself behind.

      There is a new somebody
    alive in the husk
  that once belonged to me
and uses cartilage and skull.

      In death a torment would have ended
      that carries on now
      interminably.
      No flowers on my shrine.

The berth where I was found
no place of pilgrimage.
A tree that crumples
in sorrow.

      Its green petals encompass
    the last of my claret,
  spilt in love
for those who loved me.

I bend down, grasp
  this dry red earth.
    I dig with feeble fingers
      a small hole.

More I do not need.
Sprinkle some water,
and hope one flower
will one day bloom.

****

February 23, 2017
© Darren White

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Sara Ella February 24, 2017 at 8:39 AM The tree that you do not need to see again and yet cannot forget is the end and the beginning but I would say that your heart has ALWAYS been beautiful like your poems express. <3 Darren White February 24, 2017 at 8:47 AM That tree is being read here in such a different way, that I can have peace with it. Love you, my friend <3

John Herlihy February 24, 2017 at 2:17 AM All of nature speaks in ways that we can comprehend. Your subtle poem suggests this. Fine work. John Darren White February 24, 2017 at 2:41 AM Thank you, John. It also says something of the resilience.... of trees.

Andrea Dietrich February 23, 2017 at 8:55 PM Darren your writing never ceases to amaze me. The feeling you put into this one for the tree. Love that hopeful ending. Darren White February 23, 2017 at 11:36 PM Thank you Andrea. A tale of rebirth :)

Doug Vinson February 23, 2017 at 8:36 PM Some seriously good poetry, Darren. Rebirth perhaps, yes, and concepts of freedom. What is suffering worth? Patience and maturity - do they go together? Are we human without such questions? Doug Vinson February 26, 2017 at 10:51 PM A good dose of what the writer thinks is obvious or close to it may be the perfect prescription at times. We're all different individuals, and a communication gap of varying width is usually there, making things less clear, perhaps even unintelligible. I think authors can often successfully err on the side of "obvious." Darren White February 23, 2017 at 11:35 PM I absolutely love the way poetry can be interpreted. I am sometimes afraid I am too obvious. This proves I am not. I enjoy this Doug, yes those are existential questions......

Tim Smith February 23, 2017 at 8:20 AM And the broken part can be made into someone's home, or keep them from freezing...great personification Darren White February 23, 2017 at 8:24 AM Yes.... Indeed Tim. It's a comforting thought, that.