Two takes on describing perceptions of a drive through the park, and thinking about the word "transcendent, " which came to my awareness listening to Colin Powell's best speech of his life.
Autumn afternoon in the forest
Your love brightens my heart
Like the sun setting on an October afternoon
dapples the golden leaves.
We are beautiful, those leaves and I
Until touched by that light, by that love.
Then we become transcendent.
No longer ordinary yellow leaves
We are glorious. We are golden.
We shine. We dance.
We glow. We are radiant.
We reach for the joyous touch
Of warming love, golden rays,
and become more than we are.
Autumn afternoon in the forest
The oak forest sits still in the quiet fall afternoon,
The canopy full of yellow brown leaves.
As the setting sun dips to an acute angle
The tree tops catch warm golden rays.
Suddenly, the dull fall leaves burst into a new dimension.
They transcend yellow.
They transcend leaves.
The light touches the leaves and gives them life.
Each leaf becomes radiant, glorious
As if encrusted in diamonds.
The entire forest shines and dances
In the gentle touch of the setting sun.
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Random thoughts and attempts at Poetry
3 comments:
these are joyful. thank you.
Everyone's an editor, and we're often way off base, but I wonder if you might consider a couple of ideas about your second poem. First, I'd title it "Gentle Touch of the Setting Sun". But more important, I'd rearrange it out of chronological order to start with the second stanza. Then I'd shuffle in retrospective looks at the forest before the burst of light.
I don't know, these ideas might not work at all. Your judgement about your poem is what matters.
I recently gave my mom the same advice about the first chapter of a biography of my grandfather. Put the hook first, I told her, then draw the lessons from the story. Every kind of writer is prone to burying the lead.
Time for more poems yet?
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