Burnt Oak – Written Thursday 1st February 2001 (Aged 25)

Burnt Oak

burnt oak,
burnt oak being
scratching a living
from the all seeing

burnt oak,
forest staked on a hill
a knife to carry
and iron will

burnt oak,
bruised and tapered i am
strapped to the hands
of a greater world
a creators puppet i am
feel the icy fingers of fate
and its frostbitten hands

burnt oak,
stabilised to work
living from day to day
do not cry for the future
it is there to be saved

James Garratt – Thursday 1st February 2001

More poems at

More about this blog, The Boy Behind the Glasses, here

More poems from 2001 here

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