The tree stood tall...
Like a giant
Never to fallOnly its sight
Filled my frail soul
With acute frightMy hands trembled
On the wood axe
Nearly stumbledAlmost crying
Then a voice said:
‘Keep on trying’I struck in vain
The tree stood firm
The voice againI struck harder
But my tale was
Only sadderIn grave dismay
I turned my back
To walk awayThe voice again
I picked the axe
I felt the strainI shut my eyes
Aimed at the tree
Resolute triesEach of the veins
In my hands stood
Was in great painsThe voice’s stance
My axe began
Gaining entranceThe tree began
To shiver like
A frightened manAnd finally
Opened my eyes
ConfidentlyThere was a thump
Nothing remained
But the tree’s stump
YOU ARE READING
BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS
PoetryThe tree stood tall Like a giant Never to fall Only its sight Filled my frail soul With acute fright My hands trembled On the wood axe Nearly stumbled Almost crying Then a voice said: ‘Keep on trying’ I struck in vain The tree stood firm ...