I thought of this poem, when i saw two dustbin bags either side of a tree, or was it the front or the back I'll let you decide.
Down our street floating free.
One seemingly hiding behind,
The other was round at the front.
Waiting for his friend;
At the sycamore tree.
Then the perspective of it hit me,
Like a wave from the sea.
Is not as though I'm ranting,
It matters where you are standing.
To whether it's the front or the back,
The sides started laughing at me.
After all it doesn't matter,
Which is the front or the back.
It's only a sycamore tree:
So I asked my god which way it would be,
That's easy he said the front is the front.
The back is the back the sides follow that,
At the end of the day it's only a tree.
Surely god with thoughts if you can stand,
Does the front face The land?.
The back face the sea as you made a man,
God I demand you find an answer for me.
God found the answer to his problem you see,
The clouds opened up downwards.
A light on the man from heaven it shone,
With a wave of his hand mankind was gone.
After all thought God a tree is a tree,
Which way that it stands doesn't
Matter to me. After all,
It was only a sycamore tree.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 82 times
Written on 2022-05-10 at 01:33
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SYCAMORE TREE
There were two dustbin bags,Down our street floating free.
One seemingly hiding behind,
The other was round at the front.
Waiting for his friend;
At the sycamore tree.
Then the perspective of it hit me,
Like a wave from the sea.
Is not as though I'm ranting,
It matters where you are standing.
To whether it's the front or the back,
The sides started laughing at me.
After all it doesn't matter,
Which is the front or the back.
It's only a sycamore tree:
So I asked my god which way it would be,
That's easy he said the front is the front.
The back is the back the sides follow that,
At the end of the day it's only a tree.
Surely god with thoughts if you can stand,
Does the front face The land?.
The back face the sea as you made a man,
God I demand you find an answer for me.
God found the answer to his problem you see,
The clouds opened up downwards.
A light on the man from heaven it shone,
With a wave of his hand mankind was gone.
After all thought God a tree is a tree,
Which way that it stands doesn't
Matter to me. After all,
It was only a sycamore tree.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 82 times
Written on 2022-05-10 at 01:33
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
