Maple Lives

Not about Canada

It was beautiful, the way he died.
They said it was like sleeping.
All his loved ones gathered 'round, and cried,
Like winter willows weeping.
Their little tear leaves fell gently down,
blessing the trunk that bore them.
Those seedlings scatter across the ground,
          Like Onan's wasted semen.
Green leaves can be pleasing to the eye,
But amber hues are more splendid.
That's how artists try to justify,
Why spring and summer ended.
With colorful splendor do they paint,
Rife changings of the seasons.
So we perceive death's beautiful taint,
as giving our lives reason. 

Reviews

[Gleb Zavlanov]

Absolutely stunning! You possess a unique voice.

[Baby Ricochet]

Yeah. Leaves are cool. This is kinda pretty really

[Epipsychologist]

Yeah. Too bad they all fall in like, one week. Where I am everything is already brown and papery.

[Relic]

This is a beautiful poem peppered with alliteration and great rhymes. I wish I had written this. I like the comparisons to human passing and the passing of nature in this. This poem is art in itself and going into my favorites right away.

[Epipsychologist]

Thanks Relic!
I read In Memorium early in the semester and now all my poetry has a tint of it, I think. But I kind of like playing the depressed philosopher poet anyway, ha.

-Epipsychologist

[Sioranth Smith]

I frequent a local state park because it's only 7 miles from my home in suburbia hell and I miss the Midwest. I was there yesterday with a friend and she commented on the fall color, and I said, "Isn't it amazing how alive with color every looks despite the fact that it's all dying/hibernating?" To me, the flat green everywhere in spring/summer is boring, and if I'm bored, I might as well be dead. :) I had point here somewhere (still working on my first cup of coffee)...ah, paradox, that was my point. The seasons make me feel paradox and your poem touched upon those feelings I have. I especially loved the last two lines, a perfect summation. Thanks for sharing it.

[Epipsychologist]

Thanks Sioranth,

There's definitely a paradox in the way we love scenes of beautiful decay, and that's what I go was going for. I'm glad you got it, I was a little afraid that the poem wasn't clear enough to convey that there is more going on than just pretty imagery. I think we have a psychological need to balance the salience of mortality with value. But I'd also say the fall is worth enjoying.

[Sioranth Smith]

I absolutely understand this as I used to do a lot of "rural ruin" photography. To me, all that rot and decay was still something wholesome and beautiful in the very raw quality of it all.

[Angi]

This is good work, Epi. I liked the hushed tones that whispered through as I read aloud. 'Winter willows weeping' plants such a lovely image. I pictured these trees in some Rivendell. Fall is a time of death, but also a time of rest. This is a beautiful little piece. Angi~

[Epipsychologist]

Thanks Angi.
Where I live is surrounded by woods and creeks, so this is a perfect time of year to amble. There are some Rivendells around me!

[Tom]

Death is all part of life and this poem respectfully and literally portrays something that many fear, to be viewed as a dignified and edifying conclusion !

A profound and eloquent masterpiece my friend !

[Epipsychologist]

Thank you Tom.
Glad you got it. It's the perfect time of year to focus on the depressing things

[Lydia Shutter]

What a wonderful metaphor you employed! Death is part of the circle of life.....and there is beauty there if one observes closely enough. Written with wise and velvety ink. Lydi**

[Epipsychologist]

Thanks Lydi,
The seasons have always been connected with death and mutability, hence our having "four humours." I was aiming for something like that with this one.

[Rita L. Sev]

Death does not have to be harsh; Nature knows how to accept it better than we do. This is beautiful, Epi. Your poem reminds me of the book "The Fall of Freddie the Leaf", only the message is for more 'seasoned' readers...

[Epipsychologist]

Ha, I'll have to check that out.

[Rita L. Sev]

Leo Buscaglia is the author: http://www.amazon.com/The-Fall-Freddie-Leaf-Story/dp/0943432898

[jacob erin-cilberto]

for the poets, it seems october and november are poetic months..that change in seasons...

just as love is prone to such changes, and how it changes our moods...we feel warm and cozy...then we start feeling the chill of winter coming on...death and/or death of a relationship...the frost, the freeze...and the hibernation of the heart.

[Epipsychologist]

Yes indeed,
I think I read too much Frost last year. Now I can't look at nature without feeling a weird and hostile disconnect sometimes. I can't look at a sunset and forget that it's a symbol of endings. These are poetic months.
Thanks for the review Jacob.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i reread this sad piece but also saw the uplifting part of how we come to appreciate what we are going to lose, maybe a bit too late, but at least we do...we don't pay much attention to the green leaves, but when the maples turn in fall...how beautiful...the pic reminds me of Vermont in October...i long for it again.