Title: Demise
by ciara from Wales | in writing, poetry, dark
Demise
The insides of the decaying, decrepit old oak,
Were filled to the brim
And smothered,
By numerous, overpowering rings.
No longer could it hide
Its revealing old age,
For it was written beneath
The crusty, pealing bark.
The oak was infected,
Resin oozed with disease.
Tinges of orange
Speckled its leaves.
Branches ceased, growing like wires,
Bark became papery thin.
It was bare, like in winter
Naked, exposed surrounded by evergreens.
Resin poured from its veins
When the electric saw swung.
The roar was unbearable,
A deafening thud, as it creaked to the ground.
No longer could it hide
Its revealing old age,
For it was written beneath
The crusty, pealing bark.
The oak was infected,
Resin oozed with disease.
Tinges of orange
Speckled its leaves.
An overwhelming silence,
Washed over the forest.
Birds had scattered
From shattered habitats.
The oak lay, horizontally
Over a blanket of green,
Woodland creatures had fled,
Dew on the grass gleamed.
No longer could it hide
Its revealing old age,
For it was written beneath
The crusty, pealing bark.
The oak was infected,
Resin oozed with disease.
Tinges of orange
Speckled its leaves.
Poem about death
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