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Autumn Lies Beneath My Skin
by Therese ElaineAutumn lies beneath my skin.
A fragile thing
for all its
ripe
fecundity
Like the earth I am
returned
to merely damp loam.
My bounty plucked
and distributed
not so evenly
between the more than needy
and the less than grateful.
What leaves remain on this
ever-bending tree
are the weight of worsted wool
and the color of cemetery dirt.
I feel furrows in my blood
reminding me that I am but
an aging bawd
allowed one final gasp of
carnelian splendor
before surrendering to a
blank canvas.
Autumn lies beneath my skin.
A bitter thing
For all its
amber
sighs.
ItÂ’s a way station
that gives me far too long
to remember how the wind felt
on firmer flesh
when my hair was the color
of newly shucked corn
and my eyes the green
of now-forgotten fields.
10/11/2007 Author's Note: A piece I had to do for class, the subject being Autumn. Apparently it was well received though I confess I wasn't in class due to being...tired. *grin*
Posted on 10/11/2007
Copyright © 2024 Therese Elaine
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Bethany Lee on 10/11/07 at 05:46 PM Autumn is the most inspiring season of all...bravo! |
| Posted by Tony Whitaker on 10/11/07 at 08:07 PM For me the words are secondary to the meter, but the words are wonderful too. My favorite line, "an aging bawd
allowed one final gasp of
carnelian splendor
before surrendering to a
blank canvas."
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| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 10/12/07 at 04:22 AM To that end, I think it kicks ass. So there. |
| Posted by Angela Nuzzo on 10/12/07 at 08:58 AM Fantastic metaphor, Therese! Great descriptive images. I agree with Joseph - this does have a Wiccan feel to it - a oneness with nature. Autumn is my favorite time of the year. :) |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 10/18/07 at 03:04 PM Exquisite wording and feeling. In my favorites now. And the almost unspoken truth that skin too falls... seems a kernel from which such words have sprung. The delicate lyricism embodies in your words... the swirl of leaves through air. |
| Posted by Maria Kintner on 10/18/07 at 09:04 PM This is brilliant. Dry, yet gentle, like leaves. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 10/20/07 at 03:01 PM Brilliant, period. Everything in it. Everything. |
| Posted by Jo Halliday on 10/20/09 at 06:56 AM Written beautifully; however, it felt faster to me than autumn, somehow it has to linger somewhere. Also, lines/constructions like "It's the way station" and "What leaves remain ... are ..." seem just a touch didactic, which bar the reader for a moment. I loved the words, the talent in this poem, but just some of the things that I think you could have reworked upon. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/20/09 at 02:59 PM A marvelous piece! Congrats on POTD! |
| Posted by Richard Vince on 01/29/20 at 10:47 PM just wonderful. so glad i stumbled upon it. :) |
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