“Trees” By Robin Chappell

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Did you ask the trees how they’re feeling today?

Don’t you think they need a hand?

Not because the heaviest storm winds are making them sway

Or because time puts them through rot and decay

There is unwanted hate and intervention on man’s land

Land where they happen to be planted each time they meet a Black man

Did you ask the trees how they’re feeling today?

Don’t you think that they need an ear?

To speak about centuries upon centuries of dark faces

All brought to them to welcome their ends

Expressions of unrequited grief and fear

Tragedies deeper than their roots could ever grow

Demonic words of pain and death many would never know…

Did you ask the trees how they’re feeling today?

Reaching for the sky doesn’t mean they aren’t low

Terror-stricken fates at the ends of their limbs

Each time more inhumane. Each time just another “her” or “him”

Did you ask the trees how they’re feeling today?

Don’t you think they’re sick of the ropes?

The ones hanging the “Strange Fruit” Ms. Nina sung about

Popular among trees everywhere, mainly the depths of the south

Did you ask the trees how they’re feeling today?

Next time I really believe you should

The flesh of broken spirits haunt their dreams every night

Spirits no longer considering to be “just wood”

Without question, they are our daily breath

The life, the food, and healing rest

No longer considered just a pointless display

Did you ask the trees how they’re feeling today?

“O” By Robin Chappell

Photo by Athena on Pexels.com

Take out the knives so you can see me better

The whispers linger on our lips

That one spoken letter has taken us through greater odds

As dark as the depths of the days I spoke naive confessions of “I love you”

“Oh” became so unacceptable, like a deep black hole

To watch those soft folds of your lips form it

Every time I told you that I needed to go

It’s as simple as 1,2,3, as well as a complex science which disagrees

Transitioning into the “Oh”‘s you made me scream before each time you put me sleep

Sloppy “Oh”s enveloped in a dewy lips of a pink rose

To the “Oh”‘s on my chest where you loved to rest your nose

I have no regrets, though I often lie in repose with your “oh”‘s for safer keeping

I’d adorn them on a chain around my brain if I could

Overrated thoughts, I think

Like the final “oh” you spoke when you walked away and never even blinked