the most vibrant of days wraps itself in fruitful colour we make our way through carpeted displays of heaped leaf fall kicking tumbles of rusts and ochres mellow with shapely yellows and earthy browns between roasted umbers crisp dry leaves underfoot the crunchy crackle of autumnal presence
we pass cracked headstones clad in green ivy creeping crosses uprooted and tilted no weeping from the long lost dead trees stretch their high reaching heads into heavenly blue sun’s rays filtering down casting shadows stealing light
only the shrill cry overhead of red kites soaring masters of the Sunday sky agile and angled winging their way through flimsy whispers of white ghosts sailing silent on seas over old England
This is an eerie, eerie host of lost fog-grown consciousness that wraps you into that faraway unknown, a slow and calculated emotional walk into eyes and ghostly memories of unexplainable apparitions. A talon long worn as the talisman, now thrown into a pond, sending ripples through the spine, like kites and headstones and crosses and yes, prayers too. A beautiful walk...one that pulls you back into a century of reading where that one glance will never suffice. Pinot worthy without a doubt~
An intriguing poem about prayer and the passing of the seasons....
Some great vocabulary here...illuminating mother nature at her finest....
we make our way through carpeted
displays of heaped leaf fall
kicking tumbles of rusts and ochres
mellow with shapely yellows and
earthy browns between roasted umbers
Good Friday morning, Grace 🌤
Well, it's morning here in Texas, but I'm wishing you happiness whatever time of day it is where you are.
Ahhh, my first review of your work!
Welcome, Grace … I hope you'll like it here, enjoy the wide variety of artistic writing, attract many friends, and make the Café your home.
Ya know? You couldn't have selected a more perfect title for the ambiance of this excellently rendered poetic piece. Then, your pen began dancing across and down the page, spilling stellar ink with a feather-soft gentle hand -- laced with magical metaphor, painting vividly impacting imagery, stirring stunningly emotional timbre, breathing life into our own imaginations' world, and for the moments shared, taking us ever-so completely into your own … each, the hallmarks of a masterful poetess.
The creative originality of your Free Verse diction (in contemporary format) is uncanny, awakening scenarios I never knew existed within … and, what a delightful thrill it is to discover it all by reading you, Grace … You and your "we" companion!
"we make our way through carpeted
displays of heaped leaf fall"
"we pass cracked headstones
clad in green ivy creeping"
(yet, a mystery)
"I find 'myself' in quiet prayer
yes 'I' am praying"
Not to mention the overflowing cornucopia of poetical magic beckoning to us from every line in-'between.
A brilliant work, Dear Poetess, deserving an admiringly envious toast … "KLINK!"
Thank you ever-so gratefully for sharing, for all your reviews, and most of all your generous request of Friendship! ⁓ Richard 🥂
A gentle and quite remarkable write with lots of visual elements which delight this artist' s heart and just a soupcon of the macabre. Or is that because I've just been watching Nosferatu? Excellent work.
Your words are as perfect as the 'all about' can be. Beautiful words, laid and shared. Many thank yous on what is a chilly, wet and unfriendly morning. You've brightened my mood with such a gentle poem - many thanks, Grace Lee.