Jan 08
Max L.'s picture

The Tree


A stunted, scraggly tree sat amongst a few crumpled beer cans and soggy fast food wrappers in a small patch of greying and equally scraggly grass by the side of a highway somewhere in New England. A few dewdrops fell from its branches, forming a small, murky puddle at its base. The dreary November morning allowed little sun through its grey, cloud-laden sky, and what did get through, the tree greedily soaked up with the few leaves still hanging on to its thin, gnarled branches. The tree’s roots wormed their way through the dusty and far from nutritious soil, lapping up the minerals they found with vigor bordering on obsession. The tree paid little attention to these things. It was busy making a plan. You see, the tree had been there since it was a seed, and had worked hard to earn itself a place among the ill-kempt grass and Bud Lite cans, only to be ignored by just about everyone. As you might expect, it was rather fed up with it all.
Oct 23
Max L.'s picture

Pessimistic reality

May 08
poem 1 comment challenge: Disaster
Max L.'s picture

Tsunami

Tsunami

A great wall of sorrow

Engulfing all in its path,

Rising from the earthquake of pain

Deep below the surface
A surface normally calm,

Broken only on occasion by

The rough seas of discontent

And the great storms of rage

Fueled by the high winds of stress
At last the great wave breaks,

Leaving naught but a swath of regret

In its massive wake.

 
May 01
poem 1 comment challenge: Ocean
Max L.'s picture

Sand castle

Ocean
A lonely sand castle sits on the beach,

The fruit of an unknown child’s labors.

The moisture in its gritty spires slowly evaporating

In the scorching heat of the afternoon sun.

The seashells adorning its sides

Occasionally being swept away

By the waves lapping at its feet.
But soon the tide comes in,

Wiping this little speck of beauty of the face of the earth.

The next day the child returns,

Only to find a vague lump where its masterpiece once was.

But by now it has forgotten of the castle’s existence,

And it joyfully plays in the very waves

That harmed its creation so.