Dirty Tree Poem by Raymond Farrell
Dirty Tree
Today
As I sit
Under the locust tree
A Chinese man
Asked me
Why you sit
Under this tree
Dirty tree! Dirty tree!
Messy! Messy!
Without waiting
For my answer
He walked off
Shaking his head
In disgust
It may not be a mighty oak
But I have no quarrel with this tree
It has given me shade
Allowed birds to sit in its branches
And sing to me
I refuse to despise it
Merely, for being what it is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/16/2024 4:15:46 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A very enjoyable poem, Raymond. How is does it go; The eye of the beholder?
Kelly you have grasped exactly what I was driving at. I seem to do most of my thinking in regards poetry after dinner in the early evening (late afternoon) sitting under the locust tree I mention because given my schedule this is the only time I have available, so from now on you may read a lot of poems starting with me sitting under the locust tree and it is not a metaphor.