Thursday, September 17, 2020

Autumn Fruits

 

Over at dVerse Poets' Pub Laura has asked us, keeping September in mind, to write a nine-line verse, taking one of several lines from different poets so that each consecutive word becomes the start of the next line of the poem. I chose the following:

Those/ pale /flowers /might /still /have/ time/ to /fruit  from Karina Borowicz’s ‘September Tomatoes 

 

Those autumn evenings grow crisp at the edges.

Pale moonlight spills on fields as that first star

flowers in the darkening sky.

Might this inexorable transition towards winter

still surprise us, still catch in our throats?

Have we lost our awe of beauty, death,

time slipping into past?

Today we should enjoy the final

fruit, sweetened by September’s breeze.

6 comments:

  1. Oh how beautiful! I love "evenings grow crisp at the edges" and the conflation of beauty and death, and the present moment likened to a "final fruit." Brilliant :)

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  2. Thanks very much, whoever you are! :)

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  3. unless you had said, I would never have known this was a prompt pen. the images flow clear and bright ~

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  4. "Pale moonlight spills on fields as that first star

    flowers in the darkening sky."

    Gorgeous image here!

    ReplyDelete

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