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Forest

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The screech of blades
slicing though
the tough bark
of ancient trees
breaks me.
The long mournful
moan of victims
saddens me.
Machines of metal
hoist my trees away.
My trees.
The trees that were
enjoyed
by the generations before me
The threes that my grandparents
would climb up
as children.
The trees of my childhood.
I sob
shallow and pitiful

The machines drive away
with half my forest
I emerge from the
cracked shell that
I am and I see one
small skinny tree
The one tree left behind.
Around it the
once majestic
trees are gone
replaced with tree stubs.
I dig with my own
bare hands, a hole
And I reach in my pocket
a seed.

My tears nurture the
seed and soon
that one seed
will become a forest





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ashleycsy_09 said...
Jun. 13, 2010 at 6:32 pm
Wow completely amazing!
 
rose96 said...
May 27, 2010 at 1:25 pm

This is definitely my favourite poem of yours! Love it! Keep on writing! See you for antiquing soon.....=)

 

-Rose

 
Mandy said...
May 25, 2010 at 5:51 pm
That was sad, but hopefully. I loved it (:
 
Mrs. DeRaps said...
May 24, 2010 at 7:47 pm
This is my favorite poem of yours. I think that your line breaks are thoughful and powerful and that your phrasing really allows your emotion to shine through.
 
DENIZ said...
May 6, 2010 at 7:49 pm
wow. Kirthi you did a pretty good job. but because you like people to correct you - I think you should check your GRAMMAR a little better. I don't think trees are spelled like this: threes. Anywayyyyy it is sooooo good. I totally loved it. Especially when you say that one seed will become a forest. BRAVO!
 
sillysami said...
May 6, 2010 at 3:59 pm
its really good. plus its about the enviorment, witch she LOVES. :) good job kirthi!
 
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