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Autumn

Autumn

A Poem by Leslie Philibert
"

for Carl Sharpe

"

Autumn is a frozen church
We wait at heavy doors
That smell of rust,

Not a moon cold enough
To be called heartless
Or breathclouds of old steam

More an estuary of
Dumped mist afraid to ice;
The taste of wax on your lips;

A frame of hair round a
Hatted face, our steps as slow
As if we must tread water,

You are ice and rain and
The first crystals and even
More than this, beside me.


© 2014 Leslie Philibert



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Reviews

This has beautiful stark and powerful feelings of loneliness and longing, and the season's passing is such an apt metaphor. Stunning in its simplicity. Beg pardon, for I know not who Carl Sharpe is, but I am sure there is added significance to why you wrote it for him.

Posted 3 Years Ago


This is a poem that speaks so much to me of a yearning from deep inside. The reciprocation seems hesitant, the waiting, the smell of rust, the mist afraid to ice, and those slow footsteps, give such a direction to the poem and then lead me deep into that last poignant stanza.

So much enjoyed the thoughts this gave me.

Beccy.

Posted 3 Years Ago


Difficult relationships/ Difficult season. Sometimes people or situations can seem harsh as winter.
A fantastic poem.

Posted 3 Years Ago


I can read into your words you write as either the season or a person. Maybe both. Unique imagery in this poem, all your own. A strong poem and a gift to your readers.

Posted 3 Years Ago


Hmm, very interesting. I think I've known some people who were like ice and rain. A very chilling experience, to say the least.
The words flow easily across the page and speak to you. I only hope I heard them correctly.
I like your work.

Posted 3 Years Ago



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1461 Views
45 Reviews
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Shelved in 2 Libraries
Added on September 28, 2014
Last Updated on September 28, 2014

Author

Leslie Philibert
Leslie Philibert

Bavaria, Germany



About
I`m not important. I just want to write a couple of good poems. Just read what I write. That`s enough. more..

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