If a Tree Falls


I am weary
of the sound of my own
voice, my choice of tone,
and pluck of phrase.

There is no song
left here, only the long
-ing of an inkless heart,
the inkling of a long
road start, dusty and dry
of word and whim.

Are these the desert days?
I wait for manna,
hold my tongue un
-lashed and waiting
for sweetness, the
completeness of something
more than dusty keys and
wordless breeze
through uncut


Written for dVerse.




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16 Responses to If a Tree Falls

  1. claudia says:

    i can relate to the being weary of the own voice… i am sometimes and struggle to accept… yet in painting i learned the lesson that it is important to accept our very own stroke – the way we draw lines – we can improve, we learn and add this and that to our trick box but i think it’s good to make peace with what is our own beat and way to say things…ha… i’m talking to myself…see..

  2. brian miller says:

    ha. i hear you…so switch it up…do something different…write a new topic, a new way…play with a new form…i am not a huge believer in writers block…as much as our own flagging motivation…i look at writing as exercise…and when the routine gets old…i try something new…

  3. Well, dag-blast-it, I’m not tired of it! 🙂
    But I get the feelings here – good advice that Brian has – I know this from a work-out perspective that sometimes you really do just need to shorten things up or change something to make it new again.
    But you are a super star, De! No matter what!

  4. kaykuala says:

    waiting for sweetness, the
    completeness of something
    more than dusty keys

    The inspiration to come first before lashing away at the keyboard. It helps if one is to sleep it off to freshen up to complete it the next morning! Nicely De!


  5. Sometimes there’s no other thing to do than wait for that inkling and the manna.. and somehow when we do we’re there.. loved the wordplay with inkless – inkling.

  6. mood wings says:

    You could try a word list. 😉 Dude. You’re just tired. Life has been majorly draining this year. WAY too heavy for us both. Let’s push “do-over” and get busy having some fun. Invite the silly in; then you’ll start to like your voice again. You were born to be a goof, don’t you know?

    I LOVE “pluck of phrase.” And “inkless heart.” You know how some poems have great parts and great lines, but they don’t just WOW you as a whole necessarily? Well this is a sublime poem in its entirety. The sound is great, the line breaks are perfect, all your word choices are spot on. And I love the way the title goes into the first line … like, “When a tree falls, I am weary.” That’s the overriding theme here. Pretty much at all times, I’m wiped out.

    “Are these the desert days?” … This hinge-line is a great halfway marker. Love the “Okay” that follows. Rough, dry times. Well, I can accept that ’cause I know who’s holding me and what He can deliver, as promised. I will be fed just enough and exactly the right time, and that’s really all that matters. Not my feelings. Not my worth. Not my need to express in perfect words. Just Him.

    I love what you did here:
    “hold my tongue un
    -lashed and waiting
    for sweetness” … hold my tongue-un (what you’re doing), unhold my tongue (what you really want to do), un-lashed (you fear you might deserve a lashing), lashed and waiting (mascara on, looking beautiful … just ready and waiting for your heyday) … “sweetness” is the milk-and-honey-spot you know is coming

    This is an insanely good ending:
    “wordless breeze
    through uncut
    pages” … Don’t miss what she did here, people. She went back to the title. The trees have fallen and are ready for the machines, but they have not yet been turned into paper. There’s SO much promise in this poem. You’re just in the difficult stages. Your paper will come, love. And your books. Lots and lots of books. But right now is the mommy season. Like annoying older people always say, you will miss it when it’s gone. 🙂

  7. mood wings says:

    I just got an image in my head of treefalls (instead of waterfalls). And when the trees topple over the top of the cliff, they turn into fluttering pages on the way down. 😉

  8. grapeling says:

    on the same walk, De ~

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