The Secret Place
By Nicholas Roberts
I knew of a secret place
Hidden from the eyes of the common man
Where a tiny stream flowed into a pool
And there one could see many things
We used to play there as children
In the afternoons during our youth.
Ants in their marching parties turned to watch us in fixated awe
Whilst dragons and magicians cover the ground
In jumbled dances, spell-chants, and scorch-marks
An orchestra of mingling sounds like performers
Of an old Shakespearean play
The stage on which the two of us were superstars.
The daisies no longer exist in that place
Where the rock walls seemed to change on mere whim;
The only place where men could move mountains,
And take to the air like falcons, gain their eyes
Search for prey only to read my digital wristwatch
From the top of a red cedar.
In fact, the only things that remain of that secret place
Are the fortifications on the banks of the expressway,
The cruel reminders of the harsh reality,
People who continually strive to enforce truth
Governing what is correct, incorrect, or neither,
And a nagging reminder to stop daydreaming.
Copyright © Nicholas Roberts Used with permission
The Dragon Tree By Nicholas Roberts
A window in time's past
In sorrowful events
Once overlooked a tree
Green with vital leaves
Twisted by natural growth
And disguised as a beast.
In sorrowful events
The tree, should I look upon it,
Became a great dragon:
Solitary, ever-watching
Guarding its master's property.
As I sit alone in shame.
As I thought about the things
I (may) have done wrong
Flashes of fancy dawn on my mind
"Oh, how lovely would it be
To fly to the ends of the earth
As a dragon great and strong?"
Since those years in time's past
I have been released from many cages
And seen through many windows.
But a glimpse remains
Of that which is etched in soil,
A tree in which I saw myself.
Copyright © Nicholas Roberts Used with permission
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