Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Autumn





The green leaves are still clinging
to boughs
Only the sudden gusts of cold wind
tears the canvas
to a calligraphy of sticks  
beside mulched green apples
pregnant with smell of rain



I marvel the sea of colors-
greens, oranges & burnt browns
filling up the sky, with dots of
orange pumpkins, yellow corn squash-



This season is too short
much like a hurried kiss
pressed between hello & goodbye-
That space
between words,
unaccounted, yet a heavy presence- 


Still autumn never burns
deeply under the skin,
Don't leave me, ever-


Instead, I fall
rolling with the season - 
falling into the piles of dying things- 
entwining with black soil & seeds of spring- 








Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, hosted by Kim Russell - Thanks for the visit ~

22 comments:

  1. Gorgeous! Autumn is far too short, "much like a hurried kiss
    pressed between hello & goodbye-"... I'd stay in this season eternally, if only possible.

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  2. Yes this part of autumn should be longer... the part left until winter feels like drowning.

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  3. I too would stay in this season. It is lovely. Your poem evokes all the sbeauty ofit.

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  4. Wow! That's a superb piece. Love the calligraphy of sticks image and the way you draw us in to a much more powerful undercurrent of meaning.

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  5. Oh I love this, Grace! You've created wonderful images with:
    '...sudden gusts of cold wind
    tears the canvas
    to a calligraphy of sticks
    beside mulched green apples
    pregnant with smell of rain' - I can smell it!
    and, yes, autumn is too short - what a beautiful way to describe its brevity:
    'much like a hurried kiss
    pressed between hello & goodbye'.

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  6. A beautiful lament of the brevity this season holds, I love 'This season is too short much like a hurried kiss
    pressed between hello & goodbye'

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  7. I do like those last few lines. Great imagery!

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  8. Calligraphy of sticks! Love that image; so uniquely you.

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  9. A lot can sure happen when pressed between hello and goodbye.

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  10. Autumn seems too short to me as well. I like your link at the end of dying, black soil and seeds of spring.

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  11. Wonderful, Grace. My favourite season, wish it lasted longer. Wish everything lasted longer, at this time of my life. LOL.

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  12. You place us right there, Grace, surrounded by your words.

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  13. Loved this line, "calligraphy of sticks".

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  14. I like the fun way you describe the brevity of autumn.

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  15. Only you Grace can pen a picture of Autumn so delicate and yet so deep. I love the play with the words fall and falling and could drink this poem from a tall glass, slowly.

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  16. falling into the piles of dying things-
    entwining with black soil & seeds of spring-

    One very much like to get back straight to spring forgetting winter. Such an abhorrence of the cold!

    Hank

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  17. Hurried kiss that one wouldn't like to miss :) :)

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  18. Beautiful, elegant poem. Your poetry always touches me deeply. Jane

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  19. Is it Autumn? Or is it only Fall by the words of the calendar? It may well be February before the piles of leaves are large enough to roll in and prepare the soil for a new season.

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  20. This felt so gentle like a whisper.

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  22. Wonderful, wonderful images. 'much like a hurried kiss' ... fantastic ... with a whiffle of fanciful.

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