Post by DavidMc on Sept 24, 2007 6:17:14 GMT -6
September Suite
Mellow is the melancholy fall,
That enshrines our sad Septembers;
Hallowed is the dampening soil,
Of the dead that we remember.
A sepia yellow painted sun,
Leads a funeral march of memories,
Across the sallow painted sky,
To graveyards fallow with desire.
ii
Fallen leaves,
Like promises broken;
Dark, dank, autumn;
English afternoon…
Locked together
By words unspoken,
Summers discordant coda,
Echoes in the room…
Thoughts of winter;
Freezing pipes of snow;
Time to wonder
In my sorrow,
Why I ever let you go…
iii
Last night I felt the wind moan,
Through the corridor’s of my soul;
Jetsoming the flotsam of my life,
Down into the street below my window..
I felt the panic rush,
As poetry-less, rhyme-less and naked,
I listened to September’s dying hush,
Like an orgasm cruelly faked
Last night I heard the wind knock,
A crowd of demons at my door;
And switching on my bedside light,
I clutched my Bible tight..
And prayed alone..
iv
Clocks will soon Spring back,
Into the arms of Summer..
In a vain attempt
To recapture the light..
For October’s dress rehearsal
Is a sad forerunner
Of November’s and December’s
Eternal night..
I don’t know why
This season moves me so
Perhaps it all comes down
To endings and beginnings
The passing of the sun
And the thought of snow
2005
Mellow is the melancholy fall,
That enshrines our sad Septembers;
Hallowed is the dampening soil,
Of the dead that we remember.
A sepia yellow painted sun,
Leads a funeral march of memories,
Across the sallow painted sky,
To graveyards fallow with desire.
ii
Fallen leaves,
Like promises broken;
Dark, dank, autumn;
English afternoon…
Locked together
By words unspoken,
Summers discordant coda,
Echoes in the room…
Thoughts of winter;
Freezing pipes of snow;
Time to wonder
In my sorrow,
Why I ever let you go…
iii
Last night I felt the wind moan,
Through the corridor’s of my soul;
Jetsoming the flotsam of my life,
Down into the street below my window..
I felt the panic rush,
As poetry-less, rhyme-less and naked,
I listened to September’s dying hush,
Like an orgasm cruelly faked
Last night I heard the wind knock,
A crowd of demons at my door;
And switching on my bedside light,
I clutched my Bible tight..
And prayed alone..
iv
Clocks will soon Spring back,
Into the arms of Summer..
In a vain attempt
To recapture the light..
For October’s dress rehearsal
Is a sad forerunner
Of November’s and December’s
Eternal night..
I don’t know why
This season moves me so
Perhaps it all comes down
To endings and beginnings
The passing of the sun
And the thought of snow
2005
