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Autumnal Abraham Lincoln
by Bradd HowardCopper colored leaves flutter down the street
like weightless pennies waiting to be gathered up by eager children.
Oh autumnal Abraham Lincoln!
emancipate my inner slave
and proclomate the fact that I am free
free as the leaves blowing with the breeze searching for homes in other trees.
Oh Marley and Bob me
and whail about the chill of indifference that we feel towards ourselves and our own betterment
We are leaves free from the confines of the trees
Where we land, where we pile, and who rakes us up is up to us.
Copper, orange, yellow, green... we make up the autumn
without all of us we are no distinct season,
just a gathering that seems to be missing something.
You can't John Wilkes Booth me- with knowledge I am invincible. 07/25/2005 Author's Note: this was written is response to a challenge from a friend who said I couldn't write a poem with Abraham Lincoln and Bob Marley... all I had to say was... "have you heard Redemption Songs" man?
Posted on 07/25/2005
Copyright © 2024 Bradd Howard
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Frankie Sanchez on 07/25/05 at 08:16 PM this is beautiful -- i won't lie, i feel like i wanted some more leaf analogies -- but regardless this is a well-crafted idea... good work. |
| Posted by Ava Blu on 07/26/05 at 03:44 AM The Bob Marley line is the best! Your friend definitely owes you. |
| Posted by Heide McAlister-Bates on 07/26/05 at 06:37 PM Bravo, Bradd - you faced that challenge and bit great big chunks of wow out of it! Excellent write. |
| Posted by Melanie J Yarbrough on 07/28/05 at 02:32 AM i love how you use names as verbs here.. "We are leaves free from the confines of the trees
Where we land, where we pile, and who rakes us up is up to us"-- oh you make me feel so independent and strong just reading this!! thanks |
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