In the Shadows of Autumn

In the Shadows of Autumn

A Poem by Esther

Far, far from the withered leaves that decked the shadowy autumn twilight -
Nameless buds fading into the dew-drenched grass in the stillness of the night,
I sought once more the paddy fields that rose and fell before my eyes,
The streams that rippled across the mind, amidst their feeble voiceless cries.
Those were the days when the sun-kissed shores smiled upon the dreaming new-born,
The days when the song of freedom echoed, in accolades of red, across the nation's horizon,
The nights when glared the lolling flames, leaping over the silent meadows, green,
And teary-eyed, they fled from home  to these hostile lands unseen,
Dragging along their blood-washed past, doomed to perish in the fiery outrage -
A tremor in the morning song, weeping over the ruins of the forsaken village,
While a million stories jostled for space in the wilderness-the refugee camps,
Up gazed a million pairs of eyes at the smiling, blind star-lamps.
Down descended a curtain of mist over a world in perpetual war,
As the autumn breeze, in twilight clad, left Winter's door ajar.
A young mother sighed in the soothing melodies of a long-forgotten lullaby,
Her newborn's whimpers softened - she said, "Come morning, it'll die."
Who knows when, in stealthy steps, up crept the morning sun,
Over corpses piled high on wailing roads, blood seeping through the golden morn?

Decades hence, today, as the autumn air rings out in the laughing festival-bells,
Teary-eyed return the drowned through the wrath of a million gales.
On flows the wave, in bright hues of gaiety, far below our elegant high-rise,
Echoing in its restless heart , once more, their feeble, voiceless cries -
The wails of those who lurk in the shadows of these dazzling lights;
The goddess steps down from her throne, sauntering away into the night.
On the nameless graves along the endless path, she sheds her repentant tears,
For the souls that withered into the morning white of the newborn's early years.
Yet, beyond the holocaust, the paddy fields still rise and fall,
The nightingale sings across the dale - our green fields still call.
On the decaying walls of the crumbling mansions, linger many an unheeded sigh, 
Flowing down the lane, across the darkening years, blending in with the winter sky.


© 2018 Esther


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Featured Review

You have created a variety of differing images. From the tranquil and beautiful, to the war torn and ugly. There is much to contemplate in your lines and in the lives of people born into this world not knowing whether they will endure kindness or torture. One thing we can be sure of, time stops for no one, all things pass. An a
accomplished write.

Chris

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Esther

1 Year Ago

Thanks a lot!



Reviews

This is beautiful. The imagery alone was moving. You can feel the emotion as you read, the uncertainty of where we will one day be. So many of us suffer throughout our lives that the idea of no one suffering is foreign to us. It's a beautiful read that really touches the reader.

Posted 10 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Esther

10 Months Ago

Thanks a lot!
love a good story,and this is a good story

Posted 11 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Esther

11 Months Ago

Thank you!
 wordman

11 Months Ago

you`re welcome esther
well done..love the language and epic style of story telling ... love the use of contrast between whats thought beautiful and what is horrific .. especially this line:
"Who knows when, in stealthy steps, up crept the morning sun,"
the stealthy steps (nice) and the creeping sun (brilliant says i!) a sad remembrance .. and quiet respect for the fallen .. many never recovered .. laying in unmarked graves and fields now regrown .. you have really gotten me in a thoughtful place Esther .. well done!
E.
ps. if you haven't read Christine's "Scarlet Skirts" you might check it out ... its also about the War ;)

Posted 11 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Esther

11 Months Ago

Thanks a lot. I'll surely read "Scarlet Skirts."
I read this write last night, and again today. It is just as stark and vibrant while at the same time touching the heart. It takes true wordcraft to do those things with such serious subject matter, while maintaining rhyme and meter.

Amazing. :):)

V

Posted 11 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Esther

11 Months Ago

Thanks a lot!
Sad how life goes on and the sadness and grief lays unsolved cold and will always remain whispering silent wishes of freedom and tears left undried-innocent and never forgotten🌹

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Esther

12 Months Ago

It is. Thanks for stopping by.
‘Thoughts In Time’🌹

11 Months Ago

My pleasure🌹
Intriguing! There is quite a bit here to take in, maybe enough for two poems. I agree with JayG that it is in need of editing. Nothing wrong with that, it's how we improve as writers. One thing to consider would be the elimination of several definitives 'the". This would tighten up some of the lines for dramatic effect...not that it needs more drama.
i.e.
Those were the days when sun-kissed shores smiled upon the dreaming new-born,
days when songs of freedom echoed, in accolades of red, across the nation's horizon,
nights when glared the lolling flames, leaping over silent oceans, green,
And teary-eyed, fled from home to these hostile lands unseen,

All in all 'a good write'
Keep at it.


Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Esther

1 Year Ago

Thanks a lot!
Not bad, but, needs a bit of editing.

Some of the rhymes are a but strained. "Outrage" and "village" did because poetry is meant to read aloud, and they don't rhyme when that's done.

Rhyming singular and plural, like "lights," and "night" seem a discord.

And you lost me with:
- - - -
I sought once more the paddy fields that rose and fell before my eyes,
The streams that rippled across the mind, amidst their feeble voiceless cries.
- - - -
I've seen many rice paddies, but not a one of them rose, or fell, while I watched. Hell, I didn't know they could stand. Nor did I know that streams could either invade the mind, or cry. Unless you mean that the streams invaded amid some unknown person's cry? Impossible to tell.
And:
- - - -
The nights when glared the lolling flames, leaping over the silent oceans, green,
And teary-eyed, they fled from home to these hostile lands unseen, flames, leaping over the silent oceans, green,
And teary-eyed, they fled from home to these hostile lands unseen,
- - - -
Lolling flames leaping OVER oceans? If you mean jumping over them, from country to country I can't see it happening. If you mean flames over the ocean, what's burning? And...lolling flames would be lazy flames. So they can't leap.

And, by the text, and antecedent, The flames are teary-eyed and fleeing. But...but...

In other words, an editing seems necessary. Add some more time between writing a poem and posting it, so when editing you'll see it more as a reader, and catch such things yourself. When we read our own work just after writing it, our own intent for the meaning tends to blind us to how readers will see the work.


Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Esther

1 Year Ago

Thanks a lot! I'll keep it in mind.
Esther

1 Year Ago

I meant to speak of the plight of the refugees from East Bengal in the autumn of 1947,i.e., the year.. read more
JayG

1 Year Ago

• "I meant to speak of the plight of the refugees from East Bengal in the autumn of 1947,i.e., the.. read more
At first this was beautiful and then you splattered blood on it in a perfect sadistic painting :D I'm so proud! You've amazed an Edgar Allan Poe lover :)

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Esther

1 Year Ago

Thanks! Poe is unparalleled.
I was walking Arlington Cemetery in this poem, although it could fit so many others. It needs to be read slow, very slow, and with the structure that you gave to it as that passes over this poem in something not on the page but something tangible. The images repeat and who knows whether those stars are bombs or actual stars or prayers or embers cast at God...doesn't matter...when you slow it over there are just some beautiful lines...and I definitely heard the lullaby. Thanks!

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Esther

1 Year Ago

Thank you so much! I happened to have the refugees from Bangladesh way back in 1947, in mind. But th.. read more
Spectacular images of death and destruction to beauty and life. Variety of pictures inside the mind's eye taken from this remarkable powerful compelling poem. Really plays with your emotions. Good and bad. Makes you really feel all.

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Esther

1 Year Ago

Thanks a lot!

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Added on October 12, 2018
Last Updated on November 5, 2018


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