The chill breezes that sift through hair
The coolness of the earth, the unweaving–
The percussion of the trees, the hardening–
There is nothing like the flavor of Autumn–
The aging of the leaves: a rustic bronze rust
The scraping of the leaves, waving shadows–
Coffee parlors bubble scents, the old aphrodisiacs–
And our overcoats, skin, always adds new life-lines–
There is nothing like the flavor of Autumn
The dare-not-mention old-seasons, abstract themselves–
No longer real, old-seasons shade to memory–
Bewitched by Autumn's plaid-shirt, quilted-spells
The purples and yellows the greens and the browns
Replace the scenes of old shopping grounds–
The crowds and their children, the men and their wives–
The scarves and the hats, the ghoulies and bats–
Earth pumpkins and corns, shrivels and mourns
There is nothing like the flavor of Autumn–
autumn’s my favorite too. I am continually amazed by how much you get out of each and every word, I never get the feeling there is anything extraneous or accidental in your work.
I try my best, (and yes, I try to control every word) though even this piece still needed a bit of a tweak - there was just one refrain too many. I probably should have postponed posting until I fixed the problem, but I was just too eager to share this one (it’s one of my personal favorites too, at least now that I think I fixed it). I only wish my muse would vist more often; for truly, I have no idea how in the world I came up with some of this stuff. (And, of course, just as I write this, I find yet another flaw . . . the editing never ends…).
I recently read on Scott Glassman’s blog, an amateur poet, a line that struck me as very true (and beautifully phrased) “Ignoring a thought is an art.”
Well, btrfly, I just edited the orginally posted one. Nothing drastic, one less refrain, one extra “the.”
Ironically, I found that quote from Scott Glassman, buried deep within a 40+ line poem, which had lines longer than Whitmans! But one is sometimes apt to find a few gems even in a wrecked ship.
Thanks Nels.
(edit: I removed the “the”, and though this poem was published in a little underground lit magazine, I now officially hate it. It’s too artificial for my taste. And I don’t care that I wrote it. blah. I still like the refrain though, and two images.)