(Based on Trees, by Joyce Kilmer)
I hope that I shall never see
a poem written on a tree.
A tree with rhyming words imprest
in ordered lines across its breast.
A tree incised into its bark
extolling finch and meadowlark.
A tree with verse praising the thrill
of shamrock, rose, and daffodil.
A tree whose limbs shiver with pain
from those cuttings into its grain.
Though many fool with poetry,
thank God it’s not writ on a tree.
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Around 10 years ago, I first had the idea for this takeoff on Joyce Kilmer’s famous poem. What I wrote at that time, however, had almost nothing to do with the original poem. I went back to it Saturday (June 29), threw out everything except a couple of usable lines and basically started from scratch; something like building a new computer inside an old case.