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The tree stood tall
Like a giant
Never to fall
Only its sight
Filled my frail soul
With acute fright
My hands trembled
On the wood axe
Nearly stumbled
Almost crying
Then a voice said:
‘Keep on trying’
I struck in vain
The tree stood firm
The voice again
I struck harder
But my tale was
Only sadder
In grave dismay
I turned my back
To walk away
The voice again
I picked the axe
I felt the strain
I shut my eyes
Aimed at the tree
Resolute tries
Each of the veins
In my hands stood
Was in great pains
The voice’s stance
My axe began
Gaining entrance
The tree began
To shiver like
A frightened man
And finally
Opened my eyes
Confidently
There was a thump
Nothing remained
But the tree’s stump
Written by: Saviour Iz Otubelu
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
good poetry, felt this one as well