General Poetry posted May 5, 2021


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The story of an old and faithful friend.

The Oak Is My Rock

by Leann DS

So many stories my old friend could tell.
The laughter of the children, now long gone,
The witness to raw grief and wedding bells,
First kiss of a girl swathed in chiffon,
A fight where battle lines were clearly drawn,
Native men and those come from afar,
How many foreign tongues and lexicons.
He's witnessed peace and love and fear and war.
A part of every leaf and branch and cell,
So many stories my old friend could tell.

More than three wild centuries he's watched
Seen vict'ry o'er the Brits and other war,
Displacement of the Shawnee so dispatched.
John Chapman with his apple seeds galore
Stopped by while on his walking, planting tour,
George Washington, himself, may well did pause
Beneath this canopy's serene allure
To rest, or strategize this country's cause.
Where squirrels, birds, and insects ever lodge,
More than three wild centuries he's watched.

For fifty years this oak has been my friend,
Tow'ring tall on ground that I call home,
Standing strong through drought and storms and wind,
In summer shielding me with verdant dome
While reading nurs'ry rhymes or massive tome.
I've cried on him when'er my heart was broken.
He hid me when I longed to be alone.
He never told the secrets that were spoken
In confidence, his eager ear I'd bend.
For fifty years this oak has been my friend.



Rhyming Poem contest entry

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I am unable, at this moment, to upload a photograph of my tree. I will continue trying.
This poem is about my favorite tree in the world! It is over 300 years old, and resides in my front yard. I have lived on the same piece of property since I was a small child, and this tree has always brought me happiness, comfort, and a sense of peace. My wedding took place underneath this tree in August, 2014.

I live in a historical part of Pennsylvania, with a history of battles from the Revolutionary and French and Indian War, many Native American Indian tribes Who once lived here, and evidence of John Chapman (Johnny Appleseed) traveling through our very property. There is evidence that George Washington, himself, passed through this exact area during the revolutionary war. The creek in which my siblings and I played as children, leads to the Ohio River, and therefore is another historic and critical part of the lives of the settlers from long ago. The church that is less than a quarter-mile from my home, Raccoon Presbyterian Church, was one of the first in the area, founded in the 1700s. The current church building was built in 1872�¢??1873, and is still in use today. Following is a website that tells a little more about its history.

http://freepages.rootsweb.com/~florian/genealogy/wash-co-pa/o_f2/mcdonald-pa/worship/churches/raccoon-presbyterian-church-at-candor-pa.htm?back=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2Fsearch%3Fclient%3Dsafari%26as_qdr%3Dall%26as_occt%3Dany%26safe%3Dactive%26as_q%3DRaccoon+Presbyterian+Church+history%26channel%3Daplab%26source%3Da-app1%26hl%3Den

My mother, always fascinated by history, told us stories about this land as we were growing up. Living in this very rural area as a child, I often wandered the property making up stories in my mind about the people who once roamed here. My imagination often included this majestic oak tree, and the people and things it must have witnessed. That is the inspiration for my poem.

I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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