Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Poetry: The Tree House

I guess looking through my old poems sparked the poet within me. For, as I sat looking out my open window at the rain pouring down, I thought about writing another poem, this one about rain. Other than that, I didn't plan it. The story just came out. I'm looking down at the notebook I penned it in, and watching as small raindrops light on its pages. Quite fitting, don't you think?
So here it is, my newest poem. It's called "The Tree House"


The Tree House
By Rae Hitchings

See the dark clouds?
Watch them gather and build
See the darkness up high
Grow and rapidly thrill

The roiling and boiling
Of the darkening sky
The howling and whistling
Of wind on the fly

A storm approaches
And now reigns fierce
A small building cowers
Fraught through with great fear

Two eyes of deep green
Peep from a tight corner
They search for some beauty
But find only horror

She stifles a sob
A tear, smooth, sliding down
She curls up in a ball
Her eyes masking a frown

A great boom and a crash!
The house, it shakes, poor
The windows, they rattle
The boards creak, unsure

Bravely up, stands the girl,
Her hands tightened in fists
Bravely forward, she strikes
Her feet shuffle leaf bits

“My tree house!” she shouts
Little face creased in anger
“My house is my own!
Don’t touch it, you thunder!”

A ribbon of light comes
Clouds parting a moment
A smile, it seems like
From heaven up yonder

The wind, it howled less
And the thunder quite quaking
And the rain’s rat-a-tat-tat
Seemed like now it was playing

“There” said the girl
Her head bobbing so lightly
“We can both play with my house.
Just don’t shout, and no fighting!”

A girl with her mother’s
used words soundly ringing
Had put that old storm
In its place, softly raining

And so the tale goes
That the girl grew up fast
Her little fat hands
Growing slender at last

But then, on occasion,
She’ll happen to hear
A boom from above
While great rainclouds appear

She’ll smile and whisper
Quite softly, towards sky,
“Dear storm, do not touch
The sweet tree house of mine”

And at her soft whisper
The rain seems to say
“Little girl, all grown up
We’ll keep your house safe today”

Her children still wake
In the night as they hear
The howl of wind whistling
From the eaves to their ears

And from the window up high
Their mother can see
The old house in the wood
And the rain falling free

Such is the tale
Of the tree house, serene
It still sits there in silence
As storms rain on its tree

You can see it in summer
The tree’s leaves all aglow
The rain’s watered the wood
So the house’s tree, it could grow

Strong it now sits,
still in that old wood
Wishing for children
Wishing it could

See its dear girl
All young once again
And hear her call out
And quiet storms now and then

So if you should happen
To hear on the wind
Such a sweet child
Challenging such a great din

Let a  smile come forth
And touch on your mouth
For the girl is once more
Ordering storms all about.


Be Well!


Casey Elizabeth Ruble said...

That was lovely! You may have lost your health for now but not your way with words. Write more! Love you!


Oddyoddyo13 said...

This definitely put a smile on my face! Very rainy today on your blog-in a good way though. :) Gorgeous.

Calandreya said...

I'm glad you chose to write today. This poem is lovely and sweet. Thank you for sharing it.

Rae Hitchings said...

Well thank you everyone! I'm glad you liked it! I always get a bit nervous sharing new works...and when I posted this on Musings, no one else had read it but myself. *chuckle* It's always nice to get positive feedback on a new work =D


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