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Tue 23 Sep, 2003 12:43 pm
Autumn --
Peering o'er the window sill, I rose from sitting down
And looked into a patch of sun, bright across the millions leaves.
The little bits of red and brown among the green, ah beautious.
A dogwood tree is blaring loudly- 'I will not go without a show.'
So every end of every branch has berries so richly red, they put
Ideas of Christmas in my head.
This dappled forest, wetly green begins their color to appear, while
All the "- bers" are marching the calendar to the end of year.
Breezes at the night hour sing, of cooling fronts the air will bring.
So, all the quilts of patchwork, bright; will hang to 'breathe', Oh!
What a sight!
And in the morning, finally. There will come frost upon the tree.
The last display of brillance shine, while we build bonfires, toast--
And dine. On late summers bounty, gleaned and canned.
These thoughts do not wish to pose; some memory of a Spring.
Or summers heat and skimpy clothes; nor think of winter's cold repeat.
Autumn... ah, sweet autumn. May you linger long and stay...
For when the death of all things come- I know I'll finally go away.ardiamond
Wow, I really like this one. You're an excellent wordsmith, able to paint vivid images with your words. I have a yearning to see some illustrations done of the words you painted.
Have you considered having a flash movie done with your writing and some images you've selected to accompany it?
Do share some more of your writing, please. I look forward to more.
I liked "-bers" with the homonym "brrrrs", as that is when it starts to get cool and then cold. (September October November December.)
Welcome to A2K!
How nice of you two to comment, Butrflynet and sozobe.
I appreciate the things you said Butrflynet...
I Love to write and have a goodly number of poems among the stories in my portfolio, but I am a little shy about sharing them.
Autumn with it's Brrr's (you got it right sozobe),
is the BEST time in the south- perfect days happen a LOT.
Thank you both again for welcoming me so warmly!
Blowing leaves and things
I did not feel the power bringing down that acorn
Until I stepped up on the lane.
In the cravasse, breezes go over the top.
Popping off my hairdo, I startled, frowning scorn.
'Who threw at me', I'm bellowing non-stop!
I heard the thumping noise, looking quickly at the sound.
There lay a hundred acorns decorating the ground.
Two large oaks a little step ahead, towered over my height like corn stalks over sliced bread.
Oh, bother! I hasten to my walk- the leaves are strewing quite nicely.
For this is Autumn. Fruit is finished, ripe- some lost to dropping- or gone to pastry.
I cannot even find a squirrel. I wonder if they left for dislike of my cat.
This is his 'stomping lane' where his food dish is at.
Too bad-- for acorns here abound. (shiver)
And they just keep making me jump-
Showering to the ground.
This is one of the best poem about Autumn that I have. The imagery so descriptive I could almost hear the leafs rustling beneath my feet.
Poetry makes me happy too, cusick
I have been enjoying yours too, especially Ode to Yeats.
Thanks for your good words.
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