Fire burns
turn the page before it burns away
cinders, words charred
Stars burn
Nuclear fusion
Life is fire or is that an illusion?
Love the unquenchable desire
to form flame
to gather that person’s many names
and love them all
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
The ash forms a tree
Yggdrasil the ash tree of life
Forming us anew
The flames that burn in me and you
Andover means ash tree stream
The ash tree was said to be the tree of life
we are born from its ashes.
Andover ash trees
Rising from the Ash trees
we are the dust
from those trees
the first man and woman rose from the ashes
maybe we were born in the fires
of dead worlds
every boy and every girl
are Phoenix souls
Gifted to you
not in the greatest wrapping paper
but I am person you can savour
not aesthetically pleasing always to the eye
but to you I would never lie
I speak the truth
I can make you smile
all the while
you can’t buy me from any supermarket aisle
I am your gift
you can’t find me under a tree
I am too big
I am messy but no stig of the dump
I work hard for you walking in trainers my pumps
I am your gift
remember me when your having a bad day
I will come round and lighten your sadness as much as I can, ok?
for I am a friend the greatest gift of all
is when you and I rise and walk tall.
You are like a monkey puzzle tree
monkeys cannot climb
they cannot agree
On a way to ascend
your angry spine.
Their branches are a conundrum a solution
cannot be found
the monkeys all make a squawking kind of sound.
The monkeys have a headache they cannot solve
we have to wait for our ideas to evolve
before they can climb this tree.
But you are a walking talking puzzle
we don’t need, our brain is no muscle
but it needs a workout from time to time
patterns form rhymes
across the pages to spine
of the book.
But monkeys cannot read and humans won’t look
where you cast aspersions we mistook
for common sense
we can’t give you up for lent
monkey puzzle tree are misspent
like our youth
can monkeys really not climb these trees?
do we even care the truth bleeds
like monkey’s well worn hands
does anyone really understand?
We need to question the society we take for granted
the seeds you planted
will come back to grow on your grave.
Love will always save.
The trees you planted a welcome reminder
of playing a life that’s a blinder
or a poison tree that bears fruit to poison this generation and the next
to be written and recorded in text.
Without the pain of birth
nothing can happen.
And although you may grapple with darkness
light will always shine free
the truth will out eventually
it cannot be hidden
they buried it but it broke free
and blossomed into a tree
for all to see.