by Gibblet  10/27/12


bleeding red from summer’s side

pricking the soul with mournful beauty

even the sacrifice of life’s green hue

oh glorious color, vibrant in death

yet, echoing the hope of promise

as it rains upon winter’s perch
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4 Responses to Autumn

  1. Brad Nelson Brad Nelson says:

    Very nice, Pokey.

    I regularly (weather permitting) takes walks in the woods…or ride my bicycle, depending on the mood. I think it was last Saturday when it was bright and sunny, but still a little brisk, that I went for a walk in the deep woods.

    And most of these woods are comprised of Douglas firs, an evergreen. The sun was shining low in the sky. It was obviously not June, but one could pretend that 12:00 noon was actually a bright, early 9:00 a.m. June day if one wanted to. And I did.

    And that was easy to do because out among the evergreens, one would be hard-pressed to distinguish between May and early November. The trees look the same. The shrubbery at their base look much the same (perhaps just a bit weather-worn but still brilliant and defiantly green).

    But in getting to this evergreen part of the forest, there are patches of older, deciduous forest that one passes through. And those parts leave no mistake about the time of year. They are indeed “bleeding red from summer’s side” as you say. The large multi-colored maple leaves line the trails as if a red and organge carpet was being laid down for some king.

  2. Brad Nelson Brad Nelson says:

    I’m not glad I started this poetry/pose section (with Glenn’s prompting) and that you have helped to populate it. I’ve gotten out of the habit of stoking my inner Thoreau. But I spend a lot of time out in nature. I don’t wish this to sound Pagan (which I’m not). But it is my cathedral of sorts. It is the place where I go where I talk to god, for all intents and purposes.

    But I’ve gotten out of the habit of talking about this stuff because, well, people have become so superficial, crude, unthinking, and unfeeling (other than the politically correct “feelings” of warm-fuzzies that you’re supposed to have when you see things such as a “Coexist” bumper sticker on a car).

    So I’ve been keeping all this stuff just between me and god, if you will. But nothing pleases me more than thinking grand thoughts while I’m out walking or cycling in the deep woods. Thoreau did it. And St. Francis regularly did it. There is an inner call to be away from mankind (and his never-ending politics, conceits, and prevarications) and toward something else, if only the quiet of one’s own thoughts and the still world itself.

    This is why I consider iPhones and text messaging to be just about the perfect instrument for making sure that mankind never thinks a deep thought or engages in introspection. We now run from silence and stillness. And in doing so we also run from wisdom and enrichment. And if you look at our culture, it shows.

    I don’t do poetry, per se. I like to think I do a version of Thoreau that isn’t quite as thick (read: boring) and that is, from time to time, a little humorous.

    But I don’t know. I’m still jaded by mankind. It’s not just a matter of a pearls-before-swine thing. I can take criticism. It’s just that it’s now a function that is now mostly out of place in our culture. I could email someone a “selfie” and that would now (oddly) be more with the times. But to expose one’s inner thoughts….well…that can truly mark one as a sort of kook.

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