I’m just a pole in a good location,
Nobody cares about me.
They staple me and poke me without hesitation…
Oh, why can’t they let me be?
Yes, I’m just a pole in a good location,
Come read me and you will see
Yard sales and puppies are a common combination…
Did you find anything that you need?
Yes, now I’m a pole in a good location,
But I remember when I was a tree.
Giving animals shelter was my vocation,
My branches blowing in the breeze.
Oh, it hurts to be a pole in a good location;
Rusty staples and nails cover me.
Having no bark gives me a strange sensation,
And when it’s cold, I surely do freeze.
How I wish I was not in such a good location,
Like my friends that live down the street.
They offer me sympathy, but no salvation,
And are lucky to be staple-free.
If only it were possible to move my location
To somewhere that people don’t see,
Then I would be rid of my deep frustration,
And filled with elation and glee.
While stuck fast in this good location,
I glance up at the sky and see
Flocks of birds overhead busy with migration…
Oh, to be wild and free!
I fear I’ll always be a pole in a good location,
Never back to a care-free tree.
So I try my best to go on a mental vacation
When people won’t let me be.
Maybe someday I will leave this location,
When there’s no longer a need for old me.
They’ll put a new pole up without hesitation,
And put me out of my misery.
About this poem:
I’ve been sitting on this one for over a year and came across it the other day. I figured I might as well share it. I know it doesn’t have perfect rhyme or meter, but it was just for fun. I wrote the start of it in my head while driving to work, after seeing a corner telephone pole that had clearly taken years of abuse, covered in various signs, nails and staples. I wondered what the pole would say if it had feelings. Why did I wonder this? Don’t ask me. Maybe I’m overly empathetic. I also have one of those brains that strange thoughts pop into quite often. I usually just entertain them for a bit and promptly forget them. Sometimes, though, I preserve them in writing, to my later amusement and/or embarrassment.
I suppose there are other poles that might make an interesting poem, such as a flag pole, a fire pole, or a pole in a gentleman’s club, but I will have to leave those versions to someone else. Anyone up to the challenge?
Photo credit:
morguefile.com/alternativemike