Terry dailey

A Poets tree

From dead Seed grows a tree with no paper. This need bleeds the black of the grown. Planted greed comes to feed the escaper. 

In that fight to rewrite the unknown. The roots they suckle degradation. Its creation elated through chance.
but The branches buckle damnation frustraion creates circumstance. Years of storms they twisted the grain the remains are unloved and no good.
Tears scorned the existence of sane, withered leaves they sustain the dead wood.
From Dead Seed grew a tree for no paper forever to never be seen.
I am fed as im read in the escape for The endeavor to gather un green.....

Terry Dailey


  • kevin browne

    A lovely gesture to the tree lands of an uncertain future. You've captured that imagination beautifully.

  • psychofemale


To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.