Sunday, April 10, 2016

Day 10 - I'm At It Again

Human 76 - A post-apocalyptic secret is in store for you soon!

Every day during my commute I watch folks staring into their smartphone, oblivious to any part of the world around them that doesn't appear in that tiny portal. And before everyone thinks I'm a Luddite, I've made my living over these many years writing code for various computer systems from mainframes to PCs. And I, too, own a smartphone. But I've learned there's more to life than the latest gadget and whatever ad-filled prose is dumped at you. ( My writings are an exception, however, and are required material. ) Another thing—you really don't have to document every waking moment of your life with a Tweet or a selfie. Just enjoy it.

What A Tree Is Not

The child pointed to the picture
On the glassy surface of the tablet
and said, "That's a tree!"

I did not wish to interfere
With the time the young mother
was spending with her child.

I said nothing,
Though I wanted so terribly
To correct the little girl.

That is not a tree.
That is an image
Of a tree.

An image of one particular tree,
Too small to tell
Its genus or species.

You cannot feel the bark
To tell if it is rough
Or smooth.

You cannot touch
The lichen growing on it,
The color of copper exposed to salt air.

You cannot smell
The earthy fragrance
Of the leaves that fell the year before.

You cannot see the wind
Cause the leaves to twist and turn
Or tremble before a coming storm.

You cannot see how the roots
Have meandered between the rocks in the soil,
Spreading in search of food and water.

You cannot watch
An insect crawling up the trunk
Only to crawl back down again.

You cannot hear the bird singing
In the top, hidden by leaves,
Or see the color of the eggs in its nest.

It will neither shelter you
From a gentle spring shower
Nor the mid-summer's sun.

It is just an image,
Most likely forgotten
When the next image appears.

There are trees, however,
That have a place in my life,
And in my world.

I will visit them again,
And feel sorrow when they perish,
Returning to the soil.

That is a tree, like the one they sit beneath,
Viewing that insignificant image.

                      K.R. Smith

*I'm trying to write a poem each day for National Poetry Month. It's difficult to come up with original titles (that are interesting) for each post. I chose silly instead.

 Here are the links to the poems so far:

   Day 1 National Poetry Month - Kick-off (National Poetry Month)
   Day 2 Haiku, For You (Haiku)
   Day 3 A Poem For Free (The Good Morning Man)
   Day 4 Wait, There's Even More (Monday)
   Day 5 I'm Still Alive (TMI)
   Day 6 I'm Resorting To Tricks (A Walk Through Kipling's Wood)
   Day 7 It Almost Like Poetry Heaven (Metal Monsters)
   Day 8 I've Got A Lot On My Plate (The Ides Of April)
   Day 9 Another Poem Would Be Fine (Storm Spirit)

© 2012-2016 K. R. Smith All rights reserved


  1. But if I don't document it, did the moment really happen?
    Many tourists visit my neck of the woods; I don't think any of them have any idea what it is they have seen until they get back on the bus and look through the photos on their phones.

    1. As I sit here thinking about some of the things I've seen documented on the Internet, it might be better if those things hadn't happened.

      In DC, pedestrians will walk out in traffic still looking at their phone. Sometime traffic doesn't stop - even when it should.


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