Patricia Cresswell Poet Blank verse

Just a Toothpick

just a tooth pick


I pick up a toothpick 
from a half empty glass jar
stare at it dreamily 
actually some where else,
absently stroking its texture,

this was a tree once 
birds nested in its branches
squirrels stole its acorns
hid them, for the hard cold times
it was tall and stalwart
filled with life.
 
I pick up a rock, 
I hold a mountain.

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Sherifat Aduku November 22, 2017 at 9:40 AM This is creativity. Outstanding! Thanks for your comments. Patricia Cresswell November 22, 2017 at 11:52 AM Thank you for visiting my poems.

J Hamilton Gist November 16, 2017 at 3:53 PM Deep, Deep, Deep...yet simple! Nice! Patricia Cresswell November 16, 2017 at 4:41 PM Thank you.

James Edward Lee Sr. November 7, 2017 at 3:38 PM So simply, yet true poor little tooth pick. Guess it would have longer life if we use nylon or plastic Ha! Ha! James Great verse Patricia Cresswell November 7, 2017 at 3:43 PM Thank you for your thoughts.

Richard Lamoureux October 25, 2017 at 1:22 PM It is so rare that we ponder where the ordinary had once been so extraordinary. I like poetry that makes me think. Patricia Cresswell October 25, 2017 at 1:27 PM Me too! thanks for bringing this poem back to life.

Margaret Franceschini October 11, 2017 at 7:17 PM your a true poetess, the birth of a toothpick from the death of a tree! very well done. hugs Patricia Cresswell October 11, 2017 at 8:43 PM Thank you even the most mundane thing has a history. Thank you.

Michael Trejo October 11, 2017 at 1:41 PM picturesque, beautiful Patricia Cresswell October 11, 2017 at 4:40 PM thank you Michael, welcome to my home.

Jannie Breedt October 10, 2017 at 2:02 PM Hi Patricia,this one is another favourite and behold! Do I observe a sonnet here? 14 lines say so. Well done Patricia Cresswell October 11, 2017 at 4:42 PM Perhaps an accidental sonnet. Thank you Jannie. Hope all is well?

Luis Estable October 10, 2017 at 1:50 PM Yes, a tooth pick. You got it right. But what was that tooth pick before it became one? Good thinking from you, and the though is quite poetic! thanks, Luis Estable Patricia Cresswell October 11, 2017 at 5:09 PM Thank you Luis welcome to my home.

John Fleming October 8, 2017 at 12:12 AM Thought I would go back to the beginning...it is always the best place to start. The theme reminds me somewhat of Blake's poem: Auguries of Innocence; try giving it a read...I think you would appreciate it very much, Patricia. Enjoyed your comment below: "We are all made of the stuff that stars are made of". Yes indeed - Starmen! My very warmest regards, Patricia. :) john Patricia Cresswell October 11, 2017 at 5:10 PM Thank you John will look up the poem.

White Wolf September 20, 2017 at 7:27 PM I wanted to check out your first offering to the soup, and am glad I did... Most toothpicks are made from birch wood, but the mighty oak is a regal choice for this poem! This is a poem to remember for me. Patricia Cresswell September 20, 2017 at 7:41 PM I did not know that. I must make it up to the birch tonight for I love them dearly. Thank you for letting me know.

Richard Evans September 17, 2017 at 4:16 PM Wow. Like this. Simple yet thought provoking especially the last two lines. Thanks for sharing................peace! Patricia Cresswell September 17, 2017 at 5:21 PM Glad you liked this poem. There is greatness even in the smallest most inconsequential thing.

Ralph Sergi August 26, 2017 at 6:44 PM Hi Patrcia: Beautiful history of the tree . a metaphor of our evolution? Patricia Cresswell August 26, 2017 at 6:47 PM Hi Ralph thank you. I find many tales within the wee things in life

Line Gauthier August 26, 2017 at 4:11 PM Very good. Great imagery. Love your poem. Thanks for sharing.

Lim'Rik Flats August 9, 2017 at 8:41 AM Second read. Thought I better leave a "wow." No, make that two WOWS! ~ john Patricia Cresswell August 9, 2017 at 8:46 AM Thank you John it is one of my favourite things to do. I appreciate your second read.

Maureen McGreavy Pigeon Tart August 2, 2017 at 12:04 PM I love this. Patricia Cresswell August 9, 2017 at 8:47 AM You are so kind to love this little thought.

Demetrios Trifiatis August 2, 2017 at 1:57 AM ...or hold a seed into your palm and hold a forest or generations of forests. If only through your eyes the world could be seen my new friend, Patricia! Welcome. Superb writing, wondrous thinking! Patricia Cresswell August 2, 2017 at 8:51 AM We are all made of the stuff that stars are made of; even so we do not respect the mother of us all. Every day miracles are taking place before our very eyes but we are blind. Thank you for commenting. Patricia

Darren White June 20, 2017 at 12:39 AM Lovely Free Verse. I enjoyed your poem, welcome to PoetrySoup :) Patricia Cresswell August 2, 2017 at 8:53 AM Thank you for the welcome and comment. i am happy that you found enjoyment

Chris Green June 19, 2017 at 5:35 PM I really enjoyed this, I love the way you se thing in this poem.

Jan Allison June 19, 2017 at 10:16 AM Wise words indeed Patricia:-) If I hold my hand out and capture I raindrop i am holding an ocean:-)hugs Jan xx