The Poet Tree

May 19th, 2018

I felt like I should come up with a pun for the name of the page, and somehow "the poet tree" ("the poetry") seemed like a better choice than "Poetic, Just As" ("poetic justice"), or "Poetry in Commotion" ("poetry in motion"), or "Poe Et Trei." (That doesn't even make sense. Like... mixing languages together to talk about Edgar Allan Poe and... and the number three?)

Hmm.

Well, if reading all of that doesn't destroy your confidence in my poetic ability, then by all means, proceed!

If you want to read a much better book of poetry, I recommend you look at
some of Shel Silverstein's books. This image is based on one of my favourite
among those poems, "The Giving Tree."

I'm not a professional poet by any means, nor am I even intending to become a professional poet. Heck, of all the types of writing I do, this is neither the style I think I'm strongest in, nor the one I most enjoy doing. But every once in a while, I feel the inclination to write a thought or feeling that I can't quite express in prose. Every once in a rare while, I actually like the poems I've written. And once in an exceptionally rare while, I feel like sharing some of those poems. Thus, you find those on my blog sometimes.

As I usually say on these blog posts themselves, if you'd like to copy one of my poems somewhere, quote it, or even translate it to another language and share it after that, I'd appreciate it if you could ask me first. Or at very least, please link your post back to me. I may not care about these poems enough to try to sue you for plagiarism or copyright infringement, but it would be decent of you to consult with me first. Y'know?

OK, is that enough in the way of disclaimers? Or... wait a minute. Let's try this:

Is that enough disclaiming for your taste
With words that have been written here above?
Have I your ill desire now erased
To plagiarize these words that I so love?
May I find you, o reader, now inclined
To do what's right — to read, not rob my words?
If it be so, my poetry you'll find
Beside the place where one finds perching birds
Or under black-eyed nights, or bathed in gold
Or cowering behind a fit of rage
In thought, in blood, in sagas never told
In voyage, study, suff'ring, dream, or cage
These poems, to lift the heart, or draw a tear
You'll find them all, the moment you click here.

- TAB III