Autumn

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.

Reviews

[外人 (Gaiji..]

Very strong natural images, it was a pleasure to read, it has its own flow :) Great job !

[Eric Cox]

It's good to read one of your works again upon feeling better. I enjoyed this poem, it holds strong imagery penned creatively cool. An excellent write.


Eric Cox
(Formerly Spectre.)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

like that song from Romeo and Juliet...

"what is a maid, ice and desire"

we are almost autumn, almost winter on our own....almost a season...

that frozen church can be entered...even if we have to tread life to get there...but with that love beside us...that door opens more easily...

a very clever use of wording in this poem.

nicely done, Leslie
your poetry moves my spirit to write.

[Ruth]

Ah, precious, just so precious...you write so wonderfully! ♥

[Cascara (aka Sprint Goe..]

Very nice, unique descriptions of autumn here. It's nice to read imagery that's not only usually limited to Autumn's leaves, winds and cold.

[Alfred Kukitz]

The poem felt heavy, weighted in solid minded prose, a read or two and one can find no whispers here.

[Briana O'Connor]

This is a very interesting partaking on Autumn. Such a beautiful metaphor for loneliness. Not one I would have imagined. Such creativity. Thank you for sharing.

[Lyn Anderson]

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.

[Beccy]

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.

[Tina Kline]

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