Rosy Petals of the Poet Tree

Rosy Petals of the Poet Tree

Those who sailed upon the ship of nature’s wonder with ‘Rosy Petals of the Wishing Tree’, a humble rose’s yearning to became a luminous tree. This is her continuing story.

(A Story Poem in Collaboration)
Glory Glory (India)
Fibby Bob Kinney (USA)

All the stars in the heavens began to twinkle. They sent their shinning light down to the grand forest below. The little rose had gotten her wish as she was now a grand tree in the forest. All the other trees were so excited. They twirled their branches and clapped their leaves together to applaud the great achievement of this tiny rose who was so persistent in her wish to become what she longed for so much. The trees cheered her on to tell them a poem of how she felt to now be one of them. The rose looked at her branches and felt the majesty of the tree she had become…with excitement she looked at the forest and recited this poem that she felt in her heart, beneath her precious bark; It read:

Majestic ‘midst the forest’s gentle wrap,
My petals now boughs, in nature’s story told
From pink to green my form now gleams
Among these ancient sentinels, I rise,
Beneath the canopy of earth and sky, I implore.
With a yearning soul, to heights, I endeavor,
Where dreams and wishes dance in sacred fire.

There was a silence in the great forest. The trees seemed to bow their branches in honor of this lovely poem to them. The weeping willows wept for joy. The great redwoods raised their tall branches upward to the sky. It was as if they could touch the clouds above that floated as sailing vessels in the heavens above.

The king of trees who now revealed himself to the “The Rosy Poet Tree” as he named her. He said, “for your courage and beauty, we dedicate this poem to you “ he then recited in a booming voice for all the forest to hear:

“We have in our midst the flower tree.
She belongs to the forest for all to see.
Her grace and beauty will give all hope,
So in storm’s wake they can cope.”

There was a cheer in the forest carried on the current of a strong breeze. The little rose was accepted as The Rosy Poet Tree…

Meanwhile, on the forest floor were the weeds. They gathered in bushes and huddled in the darkness beneath the trees. They did all they could to make life miserable for the trees. They gathered ants to gnaw at the tree roots and make life uncomfortable for them. Now they listened to the praise for this new rosy poet tree. The leader of the weeds, “ Big Weedy” as he was known spoke out…” I will write a poem that will take away the power and beauty of that rosy poet tree…then she will have to deal with me…he began to scratch his poem on a hard rock in the forest. It read:

“My power, unmatched, in shadows I reside,
A thorn ‘mongst roses, where I bide,

I’ll craft a verse to dim her feeble light,
The Flower Tree’s bloom shall yield to my might.

With wicked words, I’ll sow discord and ire,
In darkness, I shall stoke the vengeful fire,

For I, Big Weedy, scorn her newfound glee,
In this forest kingdom, none shall outshine me.”

The weeds cackled in their brambles and bushes. A scornful hymn they chanted “Hooray to Big Weedy, the champ of the greedy!”
It was then he set his plan in motion to take away the power of the Rosy Poet Tree.

(See chapter 4 : “ Big Weedy’s Wrathful Plan”)

Photo: Angry ‘Big Weedy’ shouting at the trees.

This series of stories are by:

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