Primary succession


Warmed by the sun
cooled in the shade
immovable forever
and impenetrable
or, so it seemed
But when there is a will to live
life has a way of being stubborn.

Perhaps
it flew in on the wind
or, was dropped by a passing bird
there on the surface where
it too remained
warmed by the sun
cooled in the shade

in need of not much earth
to sustain
and watered by rain to
encourage.

Soon it grew roots which
pushed their eager way
into all the minuscule crevices
which then shape-shifted and split
accommodating room
and, from nothing
grown into something
the tree was born

tall, but supple
strong
and when the wind blows
it will pass its own new seed along
through time’s enduring.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo       *All rights reserved

Shared with dVerse Poets #66
With Real Toads Open Link Monday

Between the Lines

There is so much unsaid
in the margins and
between the lines
It looks like blank paper
yet, isn’t

and

if we use the other side of it
have we already turned our backs
on the past in that tiny particular move.

Beyond the blue, black and white
what’s drawn me to you for
more than a little while
yes, so much more than a
little while
(a whole lifetime it seems)
is that endless need to feed
a hungry quest

To see those  unsullied blank lines
fill them full of rich imaginings
and maybe then
the tree which gave up its life
will not have died in vain.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo              *All rights reserved

Shared with Carry on Tuesday #173 ‘A little while’
dVersePoets OpenLinkNight #62

Books

What we build
we eventually destroy

neglected
through the barren years
lean years
dead years
aftermath of some catastrophe
or other

Dust flourishes on all surfaces
in every nook and cranny
it can find
(maybe)
all that is left of a people
gone behind.

Greed, violence
just some of the elements in
man’s inevitable demise
yet,
battered
torn
worn
common or rare
this fountain of knowledge
somehow still stands.

So good to be believed in once.
These books,
these imposing keys to imagination
remain
but soon may crumble back to earth
while their truly original
means of birth are freely
growing once again.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

I cannot imagine a world without books. I came across this photograph somewhere online and it started me off thinking what would it be like after some type of global catastrophe had occurred.
I know some people love them but, I also cannot imagine myself ever loving these hand held kindles and other electronic readers. To a book lover, there is no greater pleasure than being surrounded by books, picking then up and holding them, old or new. The new ones, I love smelling that newness and, thumbing gently through it’s pages, reveling in that touch.  Can’t stand people who break their backs, write in them or, turn the page over to keep the place either!  That’s what bookmarks are for! …LOL

Shared with dVersePoets #50 OpenLinkNight
Poets United Vice Versa #4
Carry On Tuesday #161

Growing Pains

I’ve sat on the deck
pondering
and leaves sit upon the tree
looking at me.
Do I appreciate their struggle
to survive
…do I?

They need earth, air, water
and sky too, from roots to
the tallest branches
…they need.

As a child I would rip off leaves
just to bend, shape them and
make a whistling sound between
their folds of bleeding veins to amuse
then,
bruised and tattered have thrown them
away as if it didn’t matter
but, it did matter to the leaves
who died because of me
…didn’t it?

In contemplating the life of
each and everything
even rock has its own
molecular life within

Now, I understand

it is better to live and let live
than to destroy for
momentary pleasure
as our lives too are
measured at their end
(I feel)
by how much we
dared and tried
to grow.

~*~
© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Shared with With real Toads #something ordinary in your life
Poets United Think Tank #89 ‘Light’

Snapshots

It needs life to see beyond
the narrow strip of black and white
and time which ages snapshots and
pages to differing shades of sepia
or,

(like memory)
it all fades into blues and greys
and on into the white of nothing

Yet,
below the surface
lays the hidden passion.
The love.
The dreams of journeys on
paths just waiting to be written
and horizons longing to be
gazed upon then, stained with
indelible ink upon the yearning
in our soul.

If trees could talk
(maybe)
they would tell us of how much
pain and suffering it took to
grow each circle and each line.
Of how they learn to bend without
breaking and how they know
(instinctively)
that to bring
about new growth something
has to die
yet, still they keep
reaching for the stars

Perhaps they know that everything
which exists is neither
black or white
but, is instead
a painter’s palette of
imperceptibly blended
colours of creation.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Thanks for for images at Real Toads. Liked them all but this one seemed to ‘speak’ to me

Shared with With real Toads #Images by Mary Ann Potter aka Starcatcher

Growing

GROWING

Smiling,
she pats the soil
Oh, so tenderly.
knowing there’s magic
in there somewhere
but, not quite what it
will be.

She whispers loving thoughts
sings her hopes and dreams
gives them to the leaves
adds a silent wish
may she watch them grow
as she will
and that one day
they’ll be trees

~*~

© Daydreamer Too *All rights reserved

Shared with Bluebell Books, (Write for Children Week #5)
And with G-Man’s Friday Flash 55

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