Endurance

Within Lynch Island's tangled tracks,

I stand before an English oak

whose girth exceeds all others seen.

Grey furrowed bark is tough on touch

as parasitic ivy clings

to vines that climb to giddy heights.

I circumvent a sturdy base

and with extended arms I reach

to measure round a wayward waist.

Five times I stretch with fingertips

beneath its overhanging boughs.

Five times the width of my embrace.

In days ahead with tree in leaf,

a canopy of heavy shade

will block each ray of lucent light,

and dark the pathways will become

that lead to where in May each year,

white bells of Loddon lilies bloom.

How many Kings and Queens have ruled?

How many tyrants thrived and died?

How many battles lost and won?

Yet undisturbed this tree stands strong

that's overseen the misery

of England's bloodied history.

If trees were able to convey,

if they could whisper words to us,

what secrets would they dare to tell?

That life prolonged on planet earth

is barely stirred by Heaven's grace,

far greater stoked by flames from Hell.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I regularly gaze at my surrounding majestic oaks & think of all that they’ve watched over here in this spot. But in your poem, you’ve done this to a degree only imagined by me, before now. You are a wizard when it comes to painting details with startling freshness. Nice variation and flow of tree-ness and then people-ness and then questioning and then universe-ness. The way it all fits together is stunningly profound. Thanks for the inspiration (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Chris Shaw]

I am blushing Margie. You are far too generous.

Chris

[John the Baptist]

I loved the steady meter of this blank verse offering. The symbolism is quite profound, the early verses cementing in our minds the dwarfing majesty of the great tree, which has been there so much longer than all the generations that have beheld it. The poet notes that the tree has stood strong despite the numerous wars that have plagued British history. They, however, have been temporary things, like the lilies of the previous verse. The last verse is somber, commenting on the seeming dominance of man's lower nature over the higher. Still, the perseverance of the trees gives us hope. The gates of hell shall not prevail against it. Very well done piece.

[Chris Shaw]

Your review kind, and very much appreciated. Thank you.

[Davidgeo]

A bit pessimistic which is how I like it.

It took me a moment to realize you weren't talking about the Lynch Island off Antarctica.

The ending I must take issue with however... it relegates human consciousness and reason to that of a parasite or virus. Which is not to say that's a terribly false conclusion but, like parasites and virus's one of the most successful forms of life. We are this planets ultimate apex predator, from that came everything you hold dear to include being able to write that poem and have this conversation.

All things relatively considered... hell is a reality of the amoral and raw nature we came from. Heaven is the logic and reason we've created with our unique consciousness in spite of that. A tree grows and doesn't care who lives, suffers, or dies... not even other trees. I think most humans are good while only some are terrible; and that unfairly skews the perception of the whole.

[Chris Shaw]

Lynch island where we go boating on the river Thames. A haven of peace and tranquility. I agree most humans are good. It is those who are in power, politicians whose decisions can have devastating consequences on the rest. It is them who have greater influence over all the others.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

excellent personification...

the trees do last so many years...the one in this picture from Vermont is still there to this day...and this pic is from the '50's..when i used to go there in summer and fall.
I really like the next to the last stanza...gave me chills.

[Chris Shaw]

I love the tree in your pic Jacob. Incredibly beautiful autumn hues. The tree I write about must be about eight hundred years old. It's huge.
Thanks for your great review.

Chris