Whispered Cries

Wow, when I read this I got chills down my back, especially the last three lines. What a secret place you took us to, we all have those barren spots in our life. I don't like it when trees die, when I hear a saw cutting trees I CRINGE. Good subject, good word use on description took me right to that spot where the tree used to be.

...how a "certain something" can trigger a golden memory, and I thought that you caught that individual "flashback" with just enough "flair", that I was a tad envious, and also wanted to understand why the little girl was laughing. Truly, a fairly nice piece..and I thank you for the "read". Write on ! #{:>{)}@==== docmaverick.

Janice dear, I was waiting unpatiently for your new writes and here I see this . This is so beautiful and touching as all your other poems. How nicely you described all these feelings... Attachment is something which creates love even with the nonliving things, and their seperation pains as much as we lose someone dear to us. Just loved this great piece of yours. Thanks for sharing it with us. Sincerely, Wafi

so good to see you posting... this one took me back to a time that has always brought warm memories for me... there was a weeping willow tree at my Aunt Grace's house that we played under and in... I just loved its tickle me branches swaying from the fast runnings of us as children, we were much closer then... warm memories... thanks! Richard

Beautiful. It is very hard to lose an old friend, especially one that has sheltered us. Always, Cat

I found this both vivid and eerie and it reminded me of something Bronte would write. Enjoyed it. No suggestions.

I proffer here a few tweaks, some of which may tug your fancy: It came crashing down loud as thunder, [and] shaking the earth[.] [No, no! I sobbed.] I fell to my knees [anguished, in pain]. []It felt like my own flesh had been [hacked/crushed] into pieces. It once stood [majestic,] each branch intricately woven into the skyline. It had been a summer’s haven and a winter’s collage against the moon. But so much more than that[:] it had become a part of me, [essential and indivisible]. The years have passed[;] but ever[y] so often[] I glance at the barren space where the elm once thrived [...] and hear but [the] whisper of a little girl’s laughter [] lingering there. As usual, hope this does more good than harm. Yours, Chuck PS: My favorite line? "a winter’s collage against the moon"

Janice I love anything to do with nature and i hate anyone destroying it needlessly. When I am up on my mountain i never cut down trees unless they have fallen naturally I pick up the many branches for my fire and let it live either under the sun moon and stars or in the living flame. I wrote a poem called Tree maybe you would like to take a look at it always Electric Blue Riley Anne still haunts me pictures still to do.

It's so much more than a tree that fell. A part of who you were in the past was violated. The happy times, the laughter, fell to earth, distorting fond dreams. The empty space, a grim reminder how life is always changing and memories are only past thoughts confronted by the present. I enjoy your brevity as you paint stacotto pictures akin to pointalism. Thanks for the journey.