When Words PaleA Poem by Chris Shaw(four different attempts on this subject matter, Sky View already published)
I planned a poem to celebrate Vermont in fall,
a vision of thick forests upon her mountain slopes. A mesmerising mass of vermillion intensity graded in height, whose breathless beauty would raise a gasp from even the most reluctant of ghosts. So transfixed was I by layers of fluttering skirts, of bright foliage, interwoven with splashes of ochre, molten gold and hooker green, I wondered whether I could attempt to capture the magnificence to convey all I had seen in mere words. And then I looked at the heavenly, cloudless sky, not a feather of floating cloud in sight, not a wisp of wayward white,just bluer than deepest sapphire blue. There's no colour chart on earth that would replicate that hue. It's a Vermont sky, one to sigh for. If this wasn't bountiful enough, I was gifted twice, a reflection of all in cool clear waters of a silent lake. How great is that? Two for the price of one. Abundant as well as lavish is nature's mother when her mood exudes kindness. So I took the whole of what my eyes had perused, and tasked my muse to give of her best because I wished to pen with an artist's flair for a fellow poet who has an affinity with this place, much loved from his early childhood days. I wrote in couplets, in triolets. I tried free verse and I bled in rhyme and after a time I was on the point of giving up, convinced I had failed, but I desired my friend should feel the agony of my pen, when I tried to do justice to his Vermont.
© 2019 Chris ShawFeatured Review
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Added on October 25, 2019Last Updated on October 25, 2019 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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