I shall arise yonder beyond the pale
in the shade of the wild sycamore tree.
I’ll share the breeze with the mountain sylph
in high panacean majesty.
The roistering wines of the debonair
howl nothing but the tongues of waste.
The barren marrow of hollow boasts
to sobriety, to self-abase.
Cantering hither to the vernal morns
the wanton chords of harmony.
Fair choristers, maids to masters rush
to the shade of the wild sycamore tree.
His chortles ever toll the bell,
with dust it lingers till the dead of day.
Through the louvred roofs on ancient towers,
in matinal smoke it succumbs to May.
The porous skin of ancient thought,
filters nought but selfish gain.
The culprits sought the shade to be
where shadows veil the darkest stain.
When frost to perfect dew abounds
and thaws anew on the morn of day.
The cold refrain of winter’s chant
will flee on ice in the month of May.
No sake in bespeaks of bygone throes,
on the beaten shards you cursed with me.
Though slaughtered I served the only rose
in the shade of the wild sycamore tree.
To the charnel house, to ushered seats;
the naked bones of the flightless flock.
The winged fossils of scavengers,
embedded in that time of rock.
I shall arise yonder beyond the pale
and allow the merry minstrels be.
In verse they hail the feathered flights
to the shade of the wild sycamore tree.
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Author:
Tony Grannell (
Online) - Published: July 26th, 2025 06:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange, Bella Shepard
Online)
Comments5
Sycamore's repeated refuge “in the shade of the wild sycamore tree” feels like a heartbeat, inviting us to shelter beneath its limbs. The sycamore itself becomes a living emblem of wisdom, endurance, and quiet sanctuary, its branches cradle both sylphs and mournful choristers alike. By unearthing its layers, the poem becomes more than a lyrical refuge; it transforms into a mirror reflecting our own cycles of exile, introspection, and return. Beaute!🙏🏻🕊️
Majestically haunting in a wild but yet settled manner the rhyme and meter are entrancing and take the reader to another world. Set somewhere between then and now it is ghostly in its presentation showing a fleeting temporal state against enduring lack of change and permeance in that sycamore tree. The rhyme itself is intoxicating with several internal rhymes deluding the reader to feel that there was an end rhyme where there was not. A poetic magic trick. The repeated return to the sycamore tree highlighted its central role in this poem as is stated in the title. Brilliant! The ephemeral role of the soul against the unchanging. Much deeper I could dig but I dare not. A definite fave Tony
A beautiful read to sit and relax to, enjoyed the read
Wow. An instant fave! What a richly woven and haunting piece, Tony. The refrain grounds it beautifully, and the imagery carries a mythic weight...part elegy, part revelation. Truly, an excellent job, my dear friend. 🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
The Wild Sycamore, nature's gift, which draws all to it. An enchanting story told beautifully. Excellent in every way!
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