Writing Prompt 21

It’s the twenty-first day of our 30/30!

Less than ten prompts to go! You are an inspiration to us all.

Your prompt today is:

 

Describe the tree you climbed (or never climbed,
but dreamed of) as a child.

 

 

Image credit www.cliparts.co
Guidelines, if you want them:

  • Posting your response is not required
  • Feel free to post your response   🙂
  • This is not meant to be the perfect first draft – respond without hesitation for 5-7 minutes, then keep going if you want to
  • While our prompts are geared towards poetry, we welcome all kinds of artists
  • Tips & encouragement are here
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5 comments

  1. Sycamores over Middle Creek

    The sycamore over the creek begs
    walking, the way a long-line climber
    scales a pole, but the tree leans
    almost parallel to the ground now,
    and I expect to see roots heaving
    from the heavy loam. Yet I long
    to throw a leg over like mounting
    a good pinto pony, to inch my way
    out, but the idea of the horse/tree
    crashing into the ground/water with
    me on its back is worrying enough
    that I sidle through her upright
    sisters looking for the morels I
    came for. Air resonates with the
    Imperceptible shift of pulling gravity,
    as I remember that but five summers
    past, she was a cradle for a heronry
    before the capricious channel
    eroded the soft bank. I rub the
    curling bark like some talisman
    but stay grounded as everything
    else breathes, heaves, moves on.

    Like

  2. Pingback: #NationalPoetryMonth’16 Round-up (Day 21) | Bonespark~

  3. A cherry tree, dark-barked
    stood in the center of our tiny front yard.
    Branches hung low enough to drape sheets
    creating wonderful tents.
    Climbing has not been my forte,
    clumsy child that I was,
    knees always skinned and red.
    That never stopped me from trying.
    Dad and Mom had opinions on such things though,
    so I grappled up that tree maybe only once
    to create of one of those imaginative playhouses.
    I was scolded not only for climbing
    but mainly for setting up one of those gypsy tents
    that infuriated Dad’s sense of decorum.
    I stayed perched on the ground,
    loving the tree for its shade and a few occasional cherries.

    Like

  4. Seasons in the Mirror of Time

    Gnarled hands clasp together
    on the front porch,
    as a couple reflects over
    the seasons.
    In their lives together.
    The oak tree in the front yard has
    weathered many storms.
    It has seen destruction
    and stands proudly
    having sheltered kids and grandkids.
    They can see the laughter
    from picnics and Koolaid parties.
    The heart is still carved on
    the tree with their names on it.
    The tree continues to be
    a haven, as squirrels drop nuts
    and birds build nests
    in the branches.

    Like


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