Saturday, November 25, 2017

Remix of November Days Poem...

For today’s prompt, write a remix poem. I love how music artists will remix each other’s (and their own) songs. Do that today with one of your poems. 

Remix of November Days...

You flood the land with solemn grandeur, bronze-cinereal-blue
 You lure the eye to moody skies weighted with winter's due
And though you seem unpopular compared to May and such
Something about you stirs a kindred spirit in your touch

You keen a kind of sorrow-song that comes with letting go
And when you turn the other cheek Time kisses it with snow
You strum your humble hymn on limbs stripped of lusher appeal
Where earth has claimed the prize that filled young eyes with dreams surreal

No one can tame the lion veiled as docile tick and tock
 Where leaf by leaf it siphons sighing sheaf  to strew the walk
You murmur over summer's tomb and sweep the somber scape
With dirges phrased by fallen bloom and autumn's tattered cape 

You seem torn between what once was and what law deems must be
...a hunger for faded applause spars with humility
As you reach to a world of soulmates tuned with tender ear
To catch the sorrow in your sigh and on your wind, a tear

...or here (without photos)
You flood the heart with phrases too manifold for mere word
You toll a gong that blazons from yon belfry undeterred
And though you doff coppice and croft of autumn color-schemes
You move your moody wand across the brooding ponds and streams

You nurture nature’s languor with a lonesome lullaby
And spread a somber table for the poet’s hungry sigh
The lay leased to the laden limb, you quiet, leaf by leaf
As amber-russet riot dims on ashen-brindled heath

You scatter summer’s tatters like a scalawag run wild
And strip the tips of fronds that donned the lilt of bloom awhile
You sweep the sleeping landscape with death’s elemental dearth
And draw the eye to where the sky is tucked against the earth

You keen with soulful silence the impact of season’s seal
How one cannot turn back the clock to walk on Bygone’s reel
How, even in November when your wind is a sad song
We ought to dance and remember not to glance back too long

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