falling leaves
will leave us as piles of bones
stacked high to the sky
and clattering in these shifting winds
time will pull these ornaments
from grasping fingers
and liberate them to the world
of circumstance and blind intuition
and still you quiver
at the inevitable approach
A contest entry
- Short poems about the Autumn Season by The Fun House.
950 points, ended November 2, 2008, 38 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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A very strong piece of work you've penned here. It makes one think and delve and I do like that alot. Exceptional work
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OMG this Rocks......
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excuse my language...
but i [fucking] love this.
=]
great work! -
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i'm glad you enjoyed it, it's a good contest, i don't usually enter these things.
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the newly dead
clattering
chattering
in their dead language
remnding us
they still exist
Striking images you implant in our memories,
the "piles of bones," but particularly
"grasping fingers," time pulling the "ornaments."
Ah, loper, your eyes speak; we listen, attentively.
M-C
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Yep, not only do I still quiver, I bedamn Autumn, and vilify it when I can!
Actually it's winter I dislike.
What I do like it the poem, "piles of bones...stacked high..." I like that, it does rather look ghoulish when they first fall, leaving the limbs, sort of dead.
I do really like this poem, and I could probably create deeper meaning for it if I wanted to, but I don't, I like its skillful, literal meaning.
I had a discussion with someone a while ago, they thought I disliked personification on general terms. I wish you had written this poem then, I could have shown them what I meant when I told them I liked it when it was well done, where it lead to something, and wasn't just an end in itself. I've been so maligned, lol.
Anyway, I'll shut up now, but, thanks, I enjoyed reading it more than a little.
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i am moved. you have most insightful comments as always, they keep me writing. thank you.
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