Archive for Uncle Tree

Arbor Day Delight!

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on April 26, 2013 by Keith Alan Watson

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“Treeflowering” by Jereon Minnikendam

http://www.jeroenmonnikendam.nl/

treeflowering-jeroen-monnikendamjpg

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“A kernel is hidden in me; a spark; a thought. I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.”

– Hermann Hesse

Arbor Day In America! Do support the nearest tree.

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Uncle Tree’s House: 2012 In Review

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on December 31, 2012 by Keith Alan Watson

This blog had 17,000 views in 2012.

Visitors came from 122 countries world-wide!

Click here to see the complete report.

Surpassing 40,000 Views In 40 Months On Happy Father’s Day!

Posted in Father's Day with tags , , , on June 17, 2012 by Keith Alan Watson

♥  The man you admire most shall be the man you will become  ♥

Uncle Tree

I hereby present to you ~ my father: Billy Lee Watson

My father - Billy Lee Watson

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Your Life Comes In Right Here

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on March 24, 2012 by Keith Alan Watson

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.

♦        ♦        ♦


Three As One

Posted in Christianity, poetry with tags , , , , , , on August 20, 2011 by Keith Alan Watson

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.

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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?

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All Mixed Up In Love

Posted in haiku, poetry with tags , , , on April 12, 2011 by Keith Alan Watson

Artwork by Aaron Pocock

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A whirlpool of change
A spiral form in essence
Virtuous vacuum

Blending emotions
Separating loves and hates
From top to bottom

Humble loves stay low
Arrogant hates spin out high
Dizzying effects

Soon I will be left
With nothing but my true love
She makes things go right

Sorrows spin away
My happiness holds on tight
Her love surrounds me

A hug in motion
Her kisses land all over
A good mix we’ll make

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Free Uncle Tree

Posted in humor, poetry with tags , , on September 17, 2010 by Keith Alan Watson

FREE! FREE! FREE!

Uncle Tree is not For Sale!

~ He already owns himself ~

twice over

That’s what makes him

FREE!

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The Fairy Tale Way

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on September 2, 2010 by Keith Alan Watson

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We have found ourselves in the middle of the way:

a curiously narrow fairy tale road

streamlined  ‘ it 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

going

going on

to a place

that doesn’t imply off

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Uncle Tree’s House: In Color

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , , on February 28, 2010 by Keith Alan Watson

“Putting music to words, and words to pictures”

Illustrated by Aaron Pocock

pocockart.com

Hanging On: Chapter Eleven

Posted in short stories with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 8, 2009 by Keith Alan Watson

Sam knew Luke had a swing in his backyard. Everyone in town knew of it. They were used to seeing children playing back there. It was sort of like the town’s park. Luke had also crudely fashioned a seesaw for them to play on, using a short-legged sawhorse and a long, wooden plank. Plans were underway to build a treehouse up in the same elm that held the swing. He’d already finished the ladder, and had hoped to begin the rest of the work next spring. They had yet to see any kids come over on this day. Parents were worried over their safety, after all that had gone on the night before, and had kept their children in-house for good reason. Until the killer was caught, there’d be no playing outside.

Luke went on out the back to see what it was that they wanted. He was working up the gall to say ‘no’, just in case. His frazzled nerves made him feel anxious again, easily and quickly. As soon as Sam saw him open the door, he began to speak. “Hey, Luke! I was hoping you’d do me a favor.” Luke held his breathe, and raised his eyebrows, then responded nervously,”What do you need, Sam?” Sam noticed the worried look on Luke’s face, and put his mind to ease at once. “No, it’s not that. We don’t need you to go along with us.” Luke sighed in relief. “Here’s the deal,” Sam began. “Our Deputy Marshall has just sworn us in. It is now official. We have lawful orders to carry out. We will assist the Deputy in this manhunt. We are to bring our stranger back alive, if at all possible. From what we’ve heard, the murderer doesn’t even carry a gun, which is hard to believe. Of course, we know he carries a knife, and it’s likely to be the murder weapon. That’s not a problem, he’ll be no match against us. We did ask around. Nobody saw him wearing a pistol. No one saw a rifle in his saddle. He bought no ammunition while he was here. The man must be crazy. That’s plain stupid. Anyway, he’ll be an easy catch, if we can find him, that is. I think I know where he’s off to. The Deputy is staying here to keep watch over the town. He’ll send word out to his boss, the nearest Marshall, on the next train that comes through. It’s due tomorrow.”

“Here’s the problem, Luke. It’s nothing much. We need a long, strong rope, like that one over there, the one you’re using for a swing,” Sam continued. Luke jumped all over that admission, and sarcastically replied, “I thought you said ‘alive’…that you’d bring him back alive.” Sam wasted no time, “No. It’s not that. We don’t need it to hang him. Heaven’s to Betsy, no. We have some smaller rope to tie his hands behind his back. But I hear he has a mighty fine horse, and I want to get it back here. If I can work things out, I hope to keep it. I need a rope like yours, so we can pull it along behind us. I don’t want it getting away. So, what do you say? I’ll bring it back to you just as soon as I can. If anything happens to it, I’ll buy you another. We don’t have time to mess around right now. The man has a pretty good head start on us as it is, and we need to take off here shortly, or just as soon as we can. I’m sure you understand.” Sam had kept a serious look on his face during the whole explanation, and his eyes never left their target. That didn’t matter to Luke. He thought it was a lame excuse for wanting the rope. “He’s a hankerin’ for a hangin’, if anything,” he silently spoke to himself.

“Well, since you put it that way, I suppose so.” Luke was doing his best to act enthused over the whole deal. “No problem, Sam. No problem at all. The kids won’t miss it for a day or two. Besides, most of them will be stuck in their houses for awhile. I’ll climb right on up and untie the knots. It’ll only take a few. Hang on a minute, and I’ll go get it.” But before he could take two steps, Sam stopped him. “That’s alright, Luke. Don’t bother. We’ll get it down, no problem. Thanks a lot! You’ve saved us some time. It may take us a day or two. I want you showing up at the ranch Monday, no matter what. My help will be expecting you. They’ll show you around, and you can see what’s what. I know your a self-starter, so I’m sure you can find some work to do. We’ll be back as soon as we can, by Tuesday at least, with or without him. Don’t you worry about us now. I’ve been through this before. We’ll get ‘er done. Okay?” Sam appeared self-assured, as usual. Luke wasn’t at all happy after he heard the idea, but he continued to be agreeable. He had many fond memories tied up in that rope, and he didn’t want to lose them altogether in one shot. Luke knew it was silly to think about it like that, but he did it anyway, and quite naturally, in fact.

“Sure, Sam, sure,” answered Luke, thinking as he spoke. “Oh, yes. I’ll be there Monday, you can count on it. Sounds great!” Luke had thought of some questions while Sam was speaking, and he finally remembered what they were. “Can I ask you something? I was wondering. You know, that foreigner doesn’t speak English. How will he know why he’s being tied up and made prisoner? I mean, how would he even confess? Do you hope to find the pastor’s blood on his knife, or what? Won’t you need some kind of evidence?”

Sam had already asked himself these questions, so he already knew the answers. “Yes, Luke, evidence would help, if it comes to that. Blood on his hands, especially. I think he’ll know the why’s, though. Do you think he didn’t turn around once and look at the fire? Even if he didn’t start it, I surely think he’d of noticed, or heard your cry for help and looked back. As far as the confession goes, a simple nod either way will suffice. We’ll just stand that bastard in front of the burnt down church. Excuse my language. I think he’ll get the picture, if he hadn’t figured it out by then.” Luke was regularly struck by Sam’s unending show of confidence. Yesterday’s hero had a small sliver of doubt in his mind, concerning the stranger’s guilt. It was acting like a thorn stuck in his side, painfully and constantly pricking away. He’d yet to get beyond the shadow.

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