Shadows of autumn, they haunt me
Life…sentenced to death by change
Only needles of green, n’ pine-cone
Spares the forest-scape of a barren
black winter…
Shadows stalk on th’ whispery gales
Novembers fickle breeze, doth snap
Crisp images, ah, for th’ poetic mind
And, reclusive me as I quill by night
in silent attitude…
Shadows cast strange silhouettes
Tips o’ goldenrod fast fade to umber
Mornings dew wrapped in infant ice
I see it all- behind boxed glass panes
o’er shelves of Donne and Poe…
All I need is my quill and isolation
To tease my yen for a Mind’s Eye view
I begrudge no one their own tongue of taste
I’m all about words from th’ dark side…
of tell-tale.
A Poet I am not, and will never claim to be
Poets fleck a canvass of deep exposure
Into th’ passions ‘n perils of their lives
And they do it, ahhhh….so seductively
with genius…
And, th’ autumn glow so beckons this eye
Fast bleeding colors… early frost melts
Like the verses of Sandburg and Elliot
While captured in th’ seasons equation
Upon th’ changing shadows of Autumn.
__________ ~ F j R ~ ___________
©MMXIX-All rights reserved
Frank James Ryan Jr. / FjR
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