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Open Poetry #25
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The Way to Life
| Open Poetry #25 |
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The Way to Life |
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Sven
since 1999-11-23
Posts 14937East Lansing, MI USA 
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Hello my friends. . . I know that I've been away. . . but, I've never been far. . . I've been writing too. . . here's some of what I've been working on. . .  I always wondered why they called it “Indian Summer” the end of September a time not close enough to be Summer but yet, too far away to be called Autumn (despite the red and yellow of the leaves) a time of endings that is also a time of beginnings a time where nature shrouds her canvas with morning mist and chill of fog revealing it under an afternoon sky bright with promise only to shroud it again under a dark new moon changing and revealing a new work under a new sun of life save for harvest moonlight when, for a brief moment of sight you can watch the drops of dew sparkle and shine as they paint the leaves in colors new and old they, the tears of the artist who must again destroy his creation for the sake of itself for from life, is the truest art revealed this living canvas, born of time and word new in each sight and life framed for viewing by a day like today to inspire a being like this held in stasis and joined in time a time where life walks the paths of crunchy leaves in bare feet crinkling and crackling like a fire a fire that burns not in the woods, but in the heart the flame of the heart the flame that shows the life where the path leads how it’s okay to run and jump into the just-raked leaves only to rake them up and jump into them again the flame that shares the secrets of the dying leaves showing them written on the stems and vines of each one nature’s parchment, ready to be mounted and framed (revealing a different secret to everyone) quiet poet, quiet your mind and listen to my last song blowing through the empty branches as I mourn my children how fast they grow only to die salt of the earth now only grains of sand mourn them poet mourn them as I do and then, you will know holding one in my hand, I feel its crinkle and hear its crunch then, my hand closes the pieces fall out, and I brush them away remembering that there are always remnants when life ends pieces that never really leave but become one with the wind I envy those pieces for they are going where my soul longs to be beyond the horizon and around the corner from the next sunset evergreen a time where love waits to be found beyond passionate promises and soulful soliloquies to a place where a hand holds more than another hand and where a glance whispers more than orators could ever speak precious days fade too quickly like the early sunset preparing us not to face the toolong night alone through his picture window, he can see them he can see the currents of his time blow away the leaves of his memories from the trees of his life red and yellow, it is time for them to be cleared away to be replaced by new leaves, new memories save the ones that will remain despite the wind, despite the winter of forget leaves that will remain everred (pieces of his heart) that will always be among the inner leaves waiting the Spring now my poet see me come through in slatted streams of twilight waters? hear me come over in colored pages of daylight novels? all I await is you the time has come poet to mourn to let go of the Indian Summer of youth and to embrace the Autumn of years because Summers are always short a Spring that remains too far away too far away from life too close to death the song decays off of the foliaged ceiling and comes down as rain from the new gray overhang we line up to gather our heathered robes and our candles taking our place, ready to enter the darker days when time moves slower we hood ourselves as the chant begins wordless, a song of Gaia and everything changes I always wondered why they called it “Indian Summer” but now, I know it is a death on the way to life To the world, you may only be one person. But to one person, you may be the world. [This message has been edited by Sven (02-16-2003 07:03 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2003 John Garcia - All Rights Reserved | |||
vandana
since 1999-10-22
Posts 10463USA |
lovely my friend |
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Temptress
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-06-15
Posts 7136Mobile, AL |
I was beginning to wonder if you had been captured by an evil prison warden looking for people to experiment on and torture, Svenny Penn!  This is beyond beautiful. I'd love to hear it read out loud. Let me know when? Is this reappearance temporary?  SARCASM BREEDS A BROKEN HEART, and I have enough cracks. Please stop breaking me! |
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Enchantress Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113Canada eh. |
"I always wondered why they called it “Indian Summer” but now, I know it is a death on the way to life" ============================================ Beautiful write...I love your words. Welcome home my friend. ~Hugs & Smiles, Nancy~ ~ Trace my body with your words.. |
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Bill Charles Member Patricius
since 2000-07-11
Posts 10619highways, & byways, for now |
Sven - I have thought of you my friend and if you were well, but now you're back with these stunning words, as only you can write.... BC |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
Oh, wow. *S* I like this so very much, Sven. *S* I'm glad you're back... any absence can be excused when such lovely gifts accompany your return. *S* |
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Seymour Tabin Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720Tamarac Fla |
Sven This was worth the wait, welcome back. An excellent write. |
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VAS Member Rara Avis
since 2000-11-16
Posts 7450Oregon |
good to see you here some amazing lines herein, such as the "everred" line enjoyed the pondering "aloud" so that we might share in your thoughts I may have to write a poem about spring and its proximity to death/winter, you inspirer, you Whether on the shoal or on the shore, |
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regards2you Member Elite
since 2002-10-01
Posts 3940California |
Anything I can think of saying about your poetry would do it injustice. So, I'll simply say this is beautiful. Enjoyed this greatly, Pat ..without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.. |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
missed you around here |
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Connel
since 2002-11-04
Posts 736Florida, USA |
Wher have ya been? lol... I wish to become a great poet some day, but it will only come in time. Til then, I shall write my poems, and wait. |
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Temptress
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-06-15
Posts 7136Mobile, AL |
Bump SARCASM BREEDS A BROKEN HEART, and I have enough cracks. Please stop breaking me! |
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Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Sven~ Certainly a lovely, lovely write~ Worthy of the publication ~ Congratulations to you~ *Huglets* ~*Marge*~ ~*When the heart grieves over what it has lost, |
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Artic Wind Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 8080Realm of Supernatural |
Very Lovely ARCTIC WIND |
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