Autumn

for Carl Sharpe

Autumn is a frozen church

We wait at heavy doors

That smell of rust,

Not a moon cold enough

To be called heartless

Or breathclouds of old steam

More an estuary of

Dumped mist afraid to ice;

The taste of wax on your lips;

A frame of hair round a

Hatted face, our steps as slow

As if we must tread water,

You are ice and rain and

The first crystals and even

More than this, beside me.

Reviews

[kentuck14]

Leslie, this is a awesome poem . . . stripped down to what really matters.
Thanks for sharing.

Tom

[Onlyme]

Profound deep and poetic about a church funeral and love.

[Neville]

There is certainly far more to these words than first meets the eye. Although, even on first glance, it was evident that you are indeed a poet sir........

[Richard Layne]

I love this. So descriptive and very sharp. I really like the treading water line—i can see it. Is this about a funeral?

[Allen Smuckler]

Great...and I mean great use of imagery and metaphors... you painted a clear, concise, poignant piece by your words alone... that's the way to do it Leslie...that's poetry.

[Poetic License]

Autumn is a frozen church
We wait at heavy doors
That smell of rust,

You absolutely grabbed my attention, focus and imagination with this image. It immediately transported me to childhood, when the great, solid oak doors of our Germanic cathedral style church seemed to be those of a giant's castle. They came so easily to mind as you put them in the frame of Autumn. I love the picture you paint of the heavier mist, in a state of transition, yet stalled for the moment.

A beautiful piece.

[OneAmongstMany]

This is so beautifully written, bold imagery and full of feeling. Glad I've discovered your writing!

[Paul Bell]

The last line just brought everything together.
Like writes like this. Keeps you thinking.

[George Coombs]

Excellent thought provoking, emotive writing, I was especially drawn to the concluding verse, excellent work