First poem for fall

IMG_2236That first fall something
found me there,
the greys and browns of
northwest Pennsylvania,
what little light you find
come November, the last
of the leaves flapping
just a few here and there,
and yet            I felt
such a force inside,
that finds comfort in
the crackle and hiss
of the rain,
how the roots became
knuckles bearing down
for the night,
how the awareness
of nature’s nerve
gave me hope
I could hold on, too.

 



Categories: poetry

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21 replies

    • Thanks Tish – didn’t feel done to me, but I had to be rid of it while it was still fall, you know. Glad you liked it. – Bill

      Liked by 1 person

      • Yep, it’s hard to know when things are done. But I thought this was done, certainly from the point of view of the mood and sentiment. My only other thought then, which I have courtesy of Welsh poet Menna Elfyn, is to try stripping out every unnecessary word and see what happens.

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      • The word-stripping-out is always good. I am still working on this with poems, because you’re working with less words obviously, and it’s interesting then how the line breaks, punctuation, rhythm all become more important. But of course you can apply those same rules and discipline to all manner of writing, beyond poems.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Yes, that’s why I also think it’s a useful exercise. A sort of wake-up call to notice one’s habitual (brain not properly switched on) constructions that could well be pruned/junked.

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      • I tried something kind of new today, where I only gave myself about 30 minutes to write, and hadn’t had enough coffee either, as my mom was quick to catch some typos and I had to go back and fix a few things, but still feels better to crack one off. We’re looking at our monster map of the UK now and I’ll be damned if I didn’t just about burn my chicken here, doing that French-in-the-pot-low-heat thing, which seems to work perfectly on my stove at home, but less so here. Wish us luck. Corn-fed.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Good luck indeed – all ends up – chicken cooking included.

        Liked by 1 person

    • I’m looking forward to yours. We have friends in from France and the house is full of mirth, and I’m stowing my computer for the next 36 hours.

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      • I would too. The French and the Germans together usually means trouble.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Well, I managed to stay offline. Isn’t easy. Couldn’t resist killing myself with all manner of cheese and carefully, thinly sliced Spanish hams from France. Not to mention the other things consumed. Bloated, blanched-out, blurry-eyed. Thank you for retweeting my poem. The French, Germans, Americans: good fun with the late night exchange of phrases. I’m venturing next into some of the terrain you’ve visited. Can’t elaborate here in case my wife reads the comments because I’m surprising her on our next destination for her birthday. And listening to INXS now to celebrate because they filmed a video there, in this European city, on a famous bridge. – Bill

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      • Spanish hams from France, eh? In Germany, no less. I’ll be hornswaggled. I think I know where you’re headed…that should be a good trip. Congrats on going unplugged for 36 hours. That’s got to be good for the soul. Especially a poet’s soul.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Thanks Walt – the online thing is just like any other addiction I think, wicks you away from ‘you’ and I don’t like being wicked, unless it’s non-cotton fabrics in a backwoods, wilderness scenario. Have a good week now.

        Liked by 1 person

      • I walked the dog today and left the phone behind. Felt good. Proud of meself.

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      • But there could have been an earthquake or a terrorist uprising or a girl needing photographed, how could you? I didn’t even know you had a dog, see.

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      • A dog, and a cat. At one point we had four cats. Now just one. Attrition, you see. I must say, one is much better than four. I am not the pet person in the house, that’s my wife. I am terrible at having pets. Too needy, you know. (The pets, I mean).

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      • I’m with you: now, just a dog and a cat. Keeps things simple: where is the dog, where is the cat. Have you fed the cat, and so on.

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