Comes the Season...

Comes a rustling through the boughs,

     as a whisper in the timber,

but its whimpers won’t arouse

     yet an ember of September;

          for spring is past, gone surrender,

          with the essence of its splendor;

          summer’s sear a silent cinder,

          fallen autumn dared engender;

     lost November, to December,

and the love fate disavows;

     now the cold I long remember

quells the spark time disallows.

Reviews

[Anniebugg]

An interesting way to relate the passing of time. You make it sound romantic. I have to admit that I am a little confused over the last 3 lines, especially 'and the love fate disavows'. As Tina said, 'What's love got to do with it?' I'm going to have to think hard on this, unless you'd like to try to explain it to me. I did enjoy reading it and your rhymes must have had you staring at the words on the screen until they became a blur. Wonderful structure and flow. Your poems are very easy to read. Great write, Mic.

[Mic]

Ah, you didn't discount that as filler. You're quite perceptive. I'll save you some time, as I fear this one is too poorly written to be deciphered. While it is a write of the passing of the seasons, or time as a whole, and the dread those cold, dark times beckon, it's also the story of a man who's lost at love and tries to deny himself even that memory of. Though there's a spark of lament now and then, time tempers all things. You'd probably never find that hidden among these ill-crafted lines, but was the intent.

As for the rhymes, honestly have little trouble with those... it's the words used to bump them along that I battle. Don't spend much time wrestling them before the entire line (or two or six) is axed and replaced.

Thank you so much for the wonderful comment as well as your time to read!

[Sheila Kline]

Once more, your rhyme and meter are "spot-on"! Excellent description of the past of September, leading to the colder months and the the long remembrance of such times. I especially like your phrasing: yet an ember of September; for spring is past, gone surrender - clearly conveys the message we are helpless in bringing it back!

[Mic]

Thank you Sheila. Must admit to enjoying those warmer days much more in my youth, as winter and I have become quite good friends of late.

Thank you for your time spent reading as well as commenting.

[Samuel Dickens]

This poem is no pretender. (Sorry, had to say that)
You can't write too many stories or poems about this time of year, and this is an excellent one. I know it was some work to work out the rhymes.

[Mic]

Ha! Considered that one Sam, but nixed it. The rhymes are actually the easy part for me, it's the meter that steals the time.

Thank you for reading as well as commenting, Sam.