(sample verse)
Poet Tree
The woodsman’s axe cuts deep
soft flesh of fruitless tree.
The poet’s subtle words, penetrate,
shallow matter, simple mind.
I go into a world,
stark with simple platitudes, innuendoes.
As the axe penetrates the worm infested cypress,
words foul the mind, pursuing evil.
I query woodsman, is it evil that has but slighted my belief?
Was the ease to fell the cypress?
The splintered wood lends no support.
The haste in fire burnt, makes labor more the feed,
further need of tree, then again more tree.
Should the blade of axe be put to oak?
Hard the swing and slight the wound,
Hewn, shaped to structure, strong, stately.
Words chose in reason’s realm, ring true.
I query poet, is it careless chosen words that fester,
burning slow to feed the fires of hate,
inflame the minds of slothful woodsmen?
Take the wet-stoned axe.
Harvest cypress for the beauty.
Oak for life its strength.
Then chose your words with care.
Formulate the woodsman’s axe.
select the perfect trees.
Reap their majesty.
Then,
leave the forest be.

Word Castles
by Tom Spencer

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96 pages, 8.5" x 11"
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