One Part Of March Seven

Those who - never go to war,

But always need to send others.

Upon pillar’s pious privileged place,

Are deemed righteous future leaders.

Seems in life -

Some people are placemats.

Who are always -

Being walked upon,

Serving others –

All their life

Death To Be the –

Final task.

In a pool

Stilled in conformity,

Toss a small

Pebble in thought,

And it will ripple

Large in minds.

One Alone

I am One setting,

One facet of life,

Held in One place

Diamond seen by One,

And only One – Alone.

One Dyes In Blues

I am One,

Set all alone.

One facet,

In solitary life,

Held up,

As One placeholder.

Rough Diamond

Cut as One -

Being One –

Set all Alone.

One cries.

One weeps.

One sobs.

One becomes bruised,

One Dyes In blues

The Poet Tree,

Felt an axe blade,

Sharp in rhyme,

Cutting clear,

Through verse.

Deep in seed,

Its Timber call,

Lay scattered,

Upon crushed Earth,

Forrest crust compost,

Having fallen silent.

It’s fertile seedlings,

Bore Poetry anew,

A Poet Tree family.