There’s a cross section of a giant oak tree
Mounted on the living-room wall
Sometimes he’d sit before it
Majestically suspended over the fireplace
Musing upon timbered recordings
Of time’s growing progression
Sometimes he’d gaze
Directly into the heartwood
Mesmerized by nature’s cycles
And concentric forces
Sometimes he’d become transfixed
By the intercellular ripples
Imprinted on its glazed surface
Fusing him into the possibility
In a distant lifetime
He lived around these awesome trees
He imagined he was alive
Between the sixth and seventh ring
And since there were about thirty
He assessed it was three thousand years ago
When Indians roamed the country
Which he now resided in
One day he recalled
The Indian rug under his bed
And the arrowheads
He found scattered around his property
And now when the flames are burning brightly
In the fireplace
He sees his face superimposed within the flames
As a warrior in time
And a native of life’s concentric forces
A beautiful poem about meditating on a mandala. Connecting with people, time and space.
Reviewed by Kate Clifford (Reader)
Reviewed on August 15, 2005
Recalls have a very interesting way of touching us through thoughts as we stare at objects before us in the now. I am an old soul too. Perhaps this is why I am attracted to trees as well?
Jude, this one is in a class by itself--and class it is. You are a master of new word juxtopostioning (concentric forces). But I wouldn't suspend him, "majestically over the fireplace," and "nuturing" a thirty year old tree with three thousand rings (one for each year). One old guy, this. (I know, he imagined himself)
Natives may have held some trees sacred, but I never heard of them planting or nurturing them.
I can see you many thousands of years ago for you too, are ageless,
as you wander the eons in many modes. The symbollic warrior image suits you fine, and is easy for us to perceive, for your poems are
also visions of timelessness. This is a splendid reflection of you Jude!
Fantastic writing. I read this one two or three times, to try to understand why it gave me that feeling of it having an underlying sadness about it. I still don't know. But it is there. Maybe it's the fact, that our life can be measured somewhere between the sixth and seventh ring of a cross section of oak, and then be totally burned away, as if it were only an unimportant ash that is to be cleaned and swept into the dust pan. Waaaa,waaaaaa. (sniff). Maybe I'm too artsy today. Or was the implication really there? ("he sees his face superimposed in the flames")...I love your work, Jude, and as usual, this one is great! Love, Leah
Dear Jude,
A superb creation. I have an image of a stone flung into a still pond and the ripples that emanate, reaching far beyond the point of impact. You certainly make your impact and the ripples are felt from a very distant shore.
Chanti
Reviewed by Trainee Poet (Reader)
Reviewed on August 15, 2005
An excellent time capsule is your majestic oak tree...excellent symbolism and extended metaphors in this poem!
I sometimes wonder about what it would have been like to have lived 3000 years ago too. Until I remember that most likely I'd already be dead if I had lived back then. So maybe it is better to know of the past, with present day eyes. Always embrace time. It may seem like you've only lived a few decades, more or less, but the reality is, all that you know of the past, is part of your life. ~ Sara
Reviewed by Thomas Lanechanger
Reviewed on August 15, 2005
Jude, I am quite sure many can easily relate to this timeless treasure for if not for “life’s concentric forces” we could simply become lost within the circle of life. I enjoyed how you’ve “suspended” the learning growth above the fireplace in an effort to ponder both “time and space.” I believe if one doesn’t nurture their past and present there cannot be a future. Outstanding well-crafted composition, and I am extremely grateful that you share your unique prospective and understanding with the world. Thanks for sharing it. Take good care and be well.
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on August 15, 2005
It would have been a must to count the rings.
Imagine if it could talk.
Oh, how I can relate to this, Jude. I have been looking at the rings in pieces of tree trunks since I was a babe imagining how life was as that tree grew, what it had seen and the secrets that it held. In the Redwood Forest in Mendocino, California the Ranger's Station has a large slice of a redwood with time markers on it. So impressed was I by this, when I was a child, that I could never look at a piece of tree trunk again without feeling amazement, even the small piece my father would cut off of the bottom of our Christmas tree, I would keep for days marveling at the beauty and the story that would unfold for me. It made me feel the life in the tree and understand that we had terminated that life when we cut it down. We are all warriors in time and our lives hold secrets of times past and those to come as we travel through our lifetimes. That tree remains through many of those lifetimes, holding secrets and wisdom that we will never learn to tap. Great poem, thank you for letting me know that someone else is intrigued by those amazing concentric rings of history.
Take care,
Sherry
A warrior of time AND place... the spirit lives on, in and through this wonderfully evocative and warmly atmospheric write and the sense of the linkage with past, present... and on into the future. It is beautifully "touchy feely" with the imagery of the wood rings. Resonates with my all-consuming spaghetti-western thoughts at the moment, too! (Little query: sense of lines 3+4... the speaker is not suspended, no?! :)) Unless astral travelling... now THERE'S a possibility!!). This is mellow and yet highly stirring and very sensitive of the intrinsic interdependence and connections between man and his environment. Reminds me somehow of the intricate quilts I have seen at The American Museum here in Britain: superb craftsmanship! TY Kate xx
The last stanza says it all; as a lover of Native American spirituality and the forces of nature, you've captured the more meaningful art of existence beyond just generations; concentric rings are far more powerful.
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Cheers
Alain
Natives may have held some trees sacred, but I never heard of them planting or nurturing them.
Ron
as you wander the eons in many modes. The symbollic warrior image suits you fine, and is easy for us to perceive, for your poems are
also visions of timelessness. This is a splendid reflection of you Jude!
Eileen
Carmen :-)
Reindeer
Love Tinka
A superb creation. I have an image of a stone flung into a still pond and the ripples that emanate, reaching far beyond the point of impact. You certainly make your impact and the ripples are felt from a very distant shore.
Chanti
TP
peace and love, Carole
Imagine if it could talk.
Take care,
Sherry
Between the sixth and seventh ring
As one who believes that our spirit may have indeed lived past lives, I found this extremely fascinating, Jude.
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)