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Entombed in the thickest of forests He laid,
donning a dark shroud of cool deadened leaves.
Limbs that once held the glorious weight of the world
were now, at the last, but scattered timbers on sacred grounds.
Archive for fairy tales
Saturday’s Mourning In Glory: Returning To Life
Posted in Christianity, poetry with tags Easter, fairy tales, Holy Saturday, tree poetry, wildlife photography on April 7, 2012 by Uncle TreeYour Life Comes In Right Here
Posted in poetry with tags Christ, fairy tales, The Book Of Life, The Tree Of Life, Uncle Tree on March 24, 2012 by Uncle Tree
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Your very own story is quite unique in itself,
but when you dare to go beyond –
the mystery of you becomes the magic in me.
* * *
J C
Three As One
Posted in Christianity, poetry with tags atonement, fairy tales, God, Jesus, Keith Alan Watson, trinity, Uncle Tree on August 20, 2011 by Uncle Tree
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I went on this path one day – off the straight and narrow way
looking to find the unknown - unafraid to be alone
a skip in my stride - my smile a mile wide
passion perspiring inside.
.
Suddenly! There’s a shadow - beside my own.
“It can’t be so!” No one came with me, I know.
Nobody else wished to go.
Who could it be then? How shall I begin?
Where did it happen and when?
Fairy Tale Doors
Posted in poetry with tags doors, fairy tales, happiness, Helen Keller, retorts on November 5, 2010 by Uncle Tree
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“When one door of happiness closes, another opens,
but often we look so long at the closed door
that we do not see the one that has opened for us.”
Helen Keller
* *
~
Uncle Tree
There is no Door Of Happiness.
Happiness is an ethereal thing that freely comes and goes.
It enters without knocking, and exits without saying goodbye.
If anything,
we are the doors that swing both ways
and come unhinged in
THE END.
Happiness and Sorrow remain our daily visitors.
***
The Hanging Tree Of Bedlam: Second Coming
Posted in short stories with tags fairy tales, haunted trees, life after death, Purgatory, scared to death, scary stories on October 28, 2010 by Uncle Tree
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On the southern edge of Bedlam, back in 1869, stood a tall old oak tree. Its fame and glory stemmed from the fact that it had been host to a multitude of hangings. Conveniently located, it lived and grew beside the road that ran to the river. This highly prominent tree was used with regularity by enforcers of the law who wished to see justice carried out to its fullest measure. The town’s large graveyard lay just beyond the tree, which only helped increase the oak’s popularity. Having a cemetery nearby quickened the entire procedure, for little time need be wasted between the drop and the burial.
The Fairy Tale Way
Posted in poetry with tags directions, fairy tales, the middle way, Uncle Tree on September 2, 2010 by Uncle Tree
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We have found ourselves in the middle of the way
on a curiously narrow fairy tale road
A flat and streamlined point that reaches far and wide
over mountains of tribulations
through valleys of peace and repose
and across the carefree canyons that naturally divide
forever moving forward and backward
~ simultaneously ~
chock-full of energizing potential
a nowhere place of neutrality
where Spirit regathers its
well-spent constituents
of truth and holiness
we have character
we be family
we are
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Going
going, going on
on to a place
that doesn’t imply off
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A Fairy Tale Worth Living
Posted in Philosophy with tags fairy tales, living, painting, questions, worth, writing on August 5, 2010 by Uncle TreePhotograph by Kirstie Watson
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Is it more worth one’s while
to live a life worth writing about, or
to write about a life that is worth the living?
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Is it more worth one’s while
to act out a scene worth painting, or
to paint a picture that is worth a view or two?
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Is it more worth one’s while
to take the time deemed necessary to dream up a fairy tale, or
to live a life worth earning the good luck it takes
to live out a fairy tale dream?
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The Song Of Olmark
Posted in poetry, short stories with tags art, fairy tales, illustrations, line art, Masters, musicians, spirit, spirituality on July 10, 2010 by Uncle Tree*
Illustration courtesy of
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In a state of stern consternation,
the candidates awaited the arrival of The Master.
A hush fell over the room as the curtains began to part.
With a marked air of dignity, Olmark glided to center-stage.
His presence alone brought their newly sharpened awareness into
focus.
*
“Attuned — understand?
Listen in, all ye initiates of The Order.
The note, the original, plays on in the unseen background.
Can you hear it? Don’t you sense it? Like a stream of morning dew?
The everlasting vibrant hum – constant in its flow
as it permeates the atmosphere and saturates the inner spheres.
Immersed from within and submerged from without,
you reside in the flow that never ends, that never began,
that never ceases to amaze me with its sound presence of Mind.
Hear ye! Hear ye all! Behold this grand piano.
Be held in the suspense of its harmonics as I play,
as I join in with the song,
with the tune that drifts beyond
the imagination of the stars.”
*
Master Olmark took his seat and placed his long delicate fingers
over the black and white keys. After turning a serious eye
to his audience, he nodded his head in recognition,
and commenced to play his magic.
*
As the notes flew about the room, each and every man began to hear
a different tune, and came to recognize the song as being their own.
‘Twas a song composed of the hopes and dreams of all.
Stop and give a listen, and maybe…just maybe,
you will hear them coming true.
*
Love’s Fairy Tale
Posted in haiku, poetry with tags fairy tales, love, orangutans, photography on June 29, 2010 by Uncle Tree
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One touches One twice
Pushed and pulled close together
Again and again
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Photograph courtesy of Kirstie Watson
A Fairy Tale Day At The Zoo: Starring Joe Petrol and Frank The Gorilla
Posted in short stories with tags animal rights, Big Oil Man, disasters, fairy tales, gorillas, Kool-Aid, offshore drilling, tripping, zoos on June 8, 2010 by Uncle Tree
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Two days after the worst disaster in the history of the offshore drilling industry, a high-ranking executive of the company at fault decided he needed a day off. Like most of his cohorts, Joe Petrol wasn’t about to accept any personal responsibility for the accident. “These things happen,” was the ongoing phrase of the week.
