Bumbling Poetry No.5

This is the most nervous I've been whilst writing one of these posts. This is a new poem, and my first attempt at some kind of traditional form.

The Giving Tree

Sinister and obscene, this tree, Fruit but

No leaves.  A raven, some black bird besides,

Shamelessly plunders, bobs and weaves, dips in

And out, considered. Surely it’s rot? What

Wholesome thing, could plump and hang, from a starved

Mother? The bird covets every tweak, lost

Meaning, this omen in winter apples.

Uncanny, yes, wunderbar too, he’d say,

The Austrian, he’d say ‘daddy’ once more,

Right with faulty reason.  Perhaps this tree

Is from the giant’s garden. The boy Christ,

Feet kicking air, clung to old gnarled limbs, life

Pressed in like clay. Now sprawling roots reach out,

Seeking the sick and wounded, willing ‘Heal’. 

After writing this I discovered that as well as being a lovely, tender children's book, The Giving Tree is also a slasher movie from 2000 featuring Molly Ringwald, huh.