Autumn's Fire

[Silver WInd]

Autumn’s Fire

 

Autumn's fire

burns passions heart

alright the gray-blue skies

in orange gold flame

the last clinging leaves

kissed by the wind

while they erupt

with burning triumph.

 

Lovers drawn closer

upon the breezy streets

with swirls of former brilliance

now tinged in brown for

final death.

 

Harvest Moon glowing

in the embers of mornings

hot red eye, showing

true colors in homage

for the lost.

 

All the earth quivers

in the explosion of life

before the sleepiness settles in

and the tress are left barren

the ground cold and infertile.

 

So let Autumn's fire

burn into your heart

with passions flicker

before the embers are

no more but gray ash.

[Wyvern]

Very nice poem, Silver Wind. :-) You paint a nice portrait of Autumn with some cool uses of language, with "burning triumph" and "hot red eye" standing out to me in particular. My favorite part of this poem was definitely the second stanza, however. One reason that stanza stood out above the rest to me is because it drew upon people ("Lovers") involved in the season and their emotions pertaining to it, which were powerfully driven across through the brown tinge of death in the leaves. While the other stanzas were nice, they weren't quite as captivating to me as that second stanza... perhaps because people and their impressions of nature are simply more intriguing to read about than descriptive pictures of nature itself.

 

Between this and "Sweet Winter," I see a kind of seasonal theme emerging in your recent poetry... out of curiousity, is this intentional? :-) It reminds me of some of Tanuchan's work in a way, though done under your own style.

[Silver WInd]

Thank you for your comments. Perhaps in a way in it is unitentionally intentional, which I know does not make sense, so I will try to explain. I love the winter and fall, and they are pehraps my faveorite seasons, I find them both refreshing and beautiful. And though I do not say to myself, oh I think I will start writing about Fall and Winter now, sense they are comming, I do become inspired to write about them in thier comming months.