Hello, I'm Level. I am an experienced story writer, but since I saw Yrolg got this thread up, and I am less than an amateur at poetry, I thought I'd give it a shot.
- Yew -
As black gives way to fiery bright,
green revealed before peaceful light.
Stand so tall the majestic yew,
shaking from its leaves the nightly dew.
Wind so malignant and furious and mad,
by nature's armor the yew was clad.
The steadfast tree refused to yield,
holding fast and still the steady shield.
And churning water began to swell round,
and torrents of rain cascaded down.
Yet still the mighty yew could not be felled,
until the grey storm was quelled.
The following morn' all noise ceased,
save the woodcutter and his growling beast.
Observed the yew for quite some time,
considering the beautiful tree in its full prime.
With several sweeps the axeman felled the tree,
Destined for beauty, the woodcutter decreed.
And so the ancient tree, victim of man,
breathed its last amid the dampening sand.
Feedback would be *greatly* appreciated.
16-Mar-2010 18:52:54