Best Artautumn Poems
Insistent starkness claims a leafless day
Where morning breaks with silent calm and dread
The slope of field is framed, behind the glass
reveals a fallen tree, with jagged edge
and grassy hills now laced with autumn rust
Inside we find a plain and cheerless room
The table sparce, an empty chair
A plate, a knife, a saucer, without spoon
One empty cup, will wait for no one there...
Ambiance of what has been,
...still lingers in the air,
as amber glows, with threats of snow,
are just a hint, instead
Lonely hours, and lonely days, and lonely shadows blend
The endless songs of yesterday, slip in from window's ledge
A meager meal will spread upon a table set for one
Where breaking bread alone without a friend
is companioned by a solitary end
The angled sun, casts shadows deep and long
A somber mood, reflects this quiet calm
Upon the walls, where gardens grew, are faded memories
where yellow blooms of yesterday, are just a step away
Where, once were two, who loved and knew their sun would rise again
There now is one who sits alone ...at the table set for one
Where hope has gone, when morning comes...
to sing a lonely song
Based on the Painting by Andrew Wyeth ... "Groundhog Day"
http://www.andrew-wyeth-prints.com/gallery_andrew-wyeth-groundhog-day.html
if
just for a moment
seasons change
as river water slows
morning dreams
wake upon
the sweetest of memories
you are lost
between years
and nowhere
are there tears
a wind whispers
cold
across a windowsill
open
where lingers
the flavors
of a young man’s summer
snow
lies frozen in the
still of silence
as air holds like ice
in a throat
just about to speak
rhyme
across an acoustic guitar
strings
eyes go closed
where autumn stalls
a voice sings
across chance
a man
sees
water
fall across his sighs
as sweat upon
his tries
if just for a moment
you believe
in the mirror
nailed to a closed door
where less than nothing
is only more.
- jude
Form:
Color Your World Contest: Mallory
A royal velvet
A lilac flower
Colorful power
Amethyst carat
Favorite pallet
She loves it more
Deep meaningful
Girl beautiful
Streaked in her hair
Artist wild
Brush in hand
Dip it in
Across
Canvas
Whirl
(Diminished Hexaverse)
Copyright 2011 Autumn Ehrhardt
BEATRIX aka Liz
the daydream became reality
his living hell for all to see
MARIANA
weary,dreary her gaze
symbol of Autumn days
her lonesome Fall-
awaits his call
BEREAVED MOTHER
news,bad and sad
brings no fear
to one who holds God near
MILLAIS GIRL WITH JUG
spring blossom weather
all girls together
a picnic by Millais
an early May day
see my pre-raphaelite cartoon images @
www.brotherhoodbabes.blogspot.com
Down from the statue
and into the water
they will come for you
Out from the safety and into the womb
they will comfort you
The scanning of retinas stops now
though it’s not like I got complaints
It’s just the landlords of autumn have disclosed a lot
and they have tainted the sacred grace
For climax
add some fabric calamity and you got yourself a being
To detract anyone
add to the archetype of slings and arrows
only then will you be “seeing”
Rocks fall
humans crawl
Primordial urges
power surges
Planets shift
but trends stick
Drip dry those subliminal thoughts
they’re projecting more then you think
Sort me out
Anyone could sort me out
we’re all the same
The scanning of retinas
will never stop
The energy rattles the earth off it’s hinges
and the dirt from the grave
But I promise you it will never stop
until none of us are the same
We can see anything , anything
at all if we really truely believe
... simple faces as description
he scribbled in speech and action. So much Ambiguity.
Breaking Hives all over , jolt
to and fro , match points flares has been.
Held ashiver creeping bones o'er Dead Flesh
as autumn swam into His room in
the Abstract's Artist's reaction to
normal Gov. corruption : Told everything
is fine , looking up silver lining alley.
They say its democracy under terroist threat
Dear default citizen
Oh how you amaze..
Fear of a mound,
tumbling down
on the half-buried, half dead
archives of desires, comes
like a stampede of hoops on my chest.
I lie alone in a desert of insanity.
From the sea of agony
one drop of salted tear,
the title of a wasted life, brings
the blood stained truth.
I want to wash my eyes again.
To watch the autumn leaves falling
on impeccable stones
for forgiveness.
We were not the fruits.
A song of blind water
enters the earth
to kiss the roots,
foo giving liberation from
sun leaked night.
SATISH VERMA