Open Poetry #37 |
A Tree of Gold |
Chacha Junior Member
since 2006-01-24
Posts 10 |
A tree of gold A tree made of gold stood on a back dirt road In place of green, golden leaves it showed It stood next to a run down house It housed an old man who had no spouse Every now and then, the man would come to the tree He would pick a few of its golden leaves Only for his own well being, however, not for greed He picked a few here, and a few there, only how ever many he would need He new somehow, the trick of the tree, it grew accustom to him A tree made of gold, certainly odd, a tree with feelings; made it feel as if it were put there by God One day a man from a distant town had come to see the tree He was a man of riches, unlike the man in the house who was not even considered bourgeoisie The man continued to pick the tree’s leaves from dusk till dawn Greedy was he, for he stole the golden leaves and it wasn’t even his lawn! One day he went to the tree and suddenly it was gone! Its golden leaves would never again spawn So sad was he, for he made his living out of his greed He thought his life was gone, he had lived to succeed He resided in his home town, no more money to pay for the things he had Homeless he had become, oh, this man was so sad Greed had clouded another mans mind and vision And made him make horrible and disastrous decisions What would come of the man in the house by the old dirt road though So poor was he, his life was oh so woe Some say he died from the misery he felt Some say he ran from the misery he had been dealt Yet, some say in his house lives the same man, ever so old They say, if you look through his window at night, you can see a tree made of gold. |
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© Copyright 2006 Chacha - All Rights Reserved | |||
RedStoneEB Senior Member
since 2003-06-08
Posts 772uk |
What would a tree with golden leafs be worth were they 24 carot gold? or pure gold or what who buys gold anyway? but i believe the old man came to see himself and moved in |
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DennisTheMenace Member
since 2005-09-04
Posts 240 |
I truly enjoy when a poem tells a story, so I like this much. |
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