Seil Chat

The Last Tree.

The last tree on Earth was small and not very green. It lived in a cavern deep underground and sipped the poisonous water which seeped from above. It took light from three huge lamps which shone twelve hours a day, and was tended occasionally by an old man with terrible scars.

Like the man, the tree was dying.

The tree, although weak, was happy in its warm half-days, and slept soundly in its darkness.

But, one day, while relieving the tree of some browning leaflets, the old man died. Now the tree had light all day long, and at first the nutrients from the old man’s body made the tree feel stronger. But soon the tree began to twist and gnarl, and its sap felt like acid and its leaves turned black, like tar.

The tree knew it was dying when the lights went out forever― all it could feel was the cold, and the dampness, and the old man’s bones.

In its last moments, the tree remembered the forest.

What a great story, very poignant!!!

Was the oldman Longshanks...

Brilliant. A story/poem about the two last surviving beings from nuclear war? Is it also about contentment, companionship and seeing the best of a bad situation? Maybe not, or perhaps, creative writing like certain works of art allow people to develop their own interpretations and take their own meanings from the work. I like it a lot.

Was just wondering P, did you make this up from your own thoughts (and will it be a possible base for a future story)... or was it based on a story you'd seen elsewhere?
M.

Hi M. I'm actually not sure, because I wrote it nearly twenty years ago. I fiddled about with it a wee bit over the last year or so, but it's pretty much as it was originally. If I manage to find the original version, I might be able to answer your question a bit better. I can't recall it coming from any particular source story, at least consciously, but I can't be certain. Not planning to do anything else with it though. P.

Hi P. My goodness, nearly twenty years ago? You have been writing a long time! You must have enough poems by now to fill a small library!

No, M. I've actually got very few, as I torched most of them one night many years ago. Only been doing wee bits and bobs on and off since. On finding my old remaining notebook, it seems The Last Tree was a kind of follow-up to another thing about the first tree, which at present is needing some severe pruning itself. If not a chainsaw. I'll see, though.

Oh P! If they were anything like your others, that's a terrible shame.

You have a poem about the first ever tree? Or am I being extremely blonde and misunderstanding?

No, M, you're not misunderstanding, there's another one about the first tree. It's a bit weird, though. I wouldn't worry about the torched ones though, they weren't worth the paper and I weeded out the ones I thought were maybe worth hanging on to, which is to say The Last Tree (more changes made than I thought) and a couple of others.

Brilliant P, I'd be interested to see it and compare with The Last Tree.

Well... you know what they say.. everyone's their own biggest critic.. or something like that!

I was reading on a poetry forum tonight that some people use poetry as a form of therapy, and thought to myself... maybe that's why I managed to knock together my poems so quickly. They just came out, because of the way I feel about certain things in my life at the mo (work). I guess for me, some of my recent work has been a big creative rant!
M.

Yes M, I think there can certainly be a theraputic side to poetry/writing. I do certainly use it for sorting things out in my head sometimes. And if I'm looking back on things written ages ago they can seem, um, not so good, not only because of the writing itself, but also because of a shift in my worldview that's taken place in the intervening time. Then again, it can go 'good grief, was I banging on about that way back then, too?' Can be quite funny, as well as slightly disturbing.

Hi P. I've certainly found it useful this past couple of weeks since I've started writing again. And, have decided to keep it on as a hobby/interest to run in parallel with my art studies.
I know what you mean about cringing when you read past writing though. I remember finding old diaries, and being horrified at things I'd written and promptly destroying them!
And, if I am still banging on and ranting about the same issues in years to come, I am going to be one very disturbed lady!

Meant to say to you, if you want to have a nosey at my music library, on lastfm, you'll find me with first and last name rolled into one word. I don't have a ridiculous user name as I do on here, (am still wondering what possessed me to pick it the night I signed up! )
And, if you do have a look, please turn a blind eye to some of the rubbish that is in there. I lost a lot of music due to not backing up my old laptop and it going kaput.