Autumn
Autumn, silent killer, softly creeps
And binds her web about the countryside
With cruel chill fingers she reaps the fruits,
Then casts the empty husks aside
Her lush and sensuous colour spreads
Oozing beneath her grasping hands.
Shrouding the ground with pools of red,
Each tree and bush denuded stands
Clammy and chill is the air she breathes
Hard and cold her greedy mouth
She takes the summer to her breast
And slowly sucks the lifeblood out.
N. M.
12 comments:
Ooooooo not sure about this poem - I love Autumn and although the poem is right, I don't want to think about Autumn this way.
But thank you for the poem. Terry Pratchett mutter mutter . . . stomps off.
This is a great poem but it seems to make my dear Autumn a bit 'creepy', have you ever written scary stuff? I think you are a natural!
Ooh! I've never thought of autumn like this. I love autumn, my favourite season.
That's a spooky one - is it safe for us to go out?
That is a very clever poem, very impressed with your skills of description, quite challenging to our senses, turning it on it's head.
PS where in West sussex are you? I'm nr Horsham
Ooh that was a bit spooky like the Dementors in Harry Potter. Gone all peculiar now. Toady
Yes, very creepy other side of Fall - I liked it!
Autumn is Dracula!
Lovely poetry. Autumn is my favourite season.
Crystal xx
Very good poem, but I prefer to think of my autumn as langurous and mellow! I do love this time of year. I liked some of the imagery though.
Lovely poem.
Wow...this sounds like a charge. I wrote one in a similar vien which I might post tomorrow to refresh my blog after my post about my brother's death.
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