A Late Autumn Afternoon

by nomadpenguin

Published November 2, 2012

ii.
Autumn was always his favorite season;
He said that the most beautiful things
are those that never
    last, the ones that fall to
         the ground and
              die in a flurry of flame.

Now the leaves are fluttering
down like songbirds onto his casket,
and our voices drift over him
like the rustling of the breeze.


iii.
We are growing old, you and I,
Our leaves lose their green with
every second that passes.

The last we met was at another
funeral.





i.
When they told us he wouldn’t live much longer,
we moved him to a room where he could see
the setting sun light the tops of the trees on fire.
Comments & reviews · 3
User avatar
Ary
Review
Ary wrote a review Review · Nov 3, 2012

This poem has a deep connections to those moments in life where sometimes the smaller the thought the bigger it will count. The scene you create in my mind is such a beauty that it leaves me breathless. And the delicate way you refer to ''Him'' just gives it a more approachable feeling to the poem. The grammar is good but the message you give across the lines is absolutely magneficient. Indeed it is stunning.

Random avatar
Underaverage
Review
Underaverage wrote a review Review · Nov 3, 2012

Okay, I'm really bad at reviweing..so I'll try my best.
This poem is absolutely stunning. You create an overwelming visual with the words you chose; it was like a movie. The last stanza was just...it left me awestruck. No words I have can discribe the feeling this poem gives me, it makes me want to live and I don't know why. It also has a sence of personal expirience in it. But as they say, the best words come from the heart of the beholder. (:

WaitingForLife wrote a review Review · Nov 3, 2012

Heya!

I'm not too big on poetry reviews, but I had to swing by and say that I thoroughly enjoyed this. I could see the scenes in my head vividly, and I friggin love autumn too, so this hit a nice spot for me. The first stanza has to be my favorite. Especially, I like the way you formatted it. To me at least, it appears as if the stanza itself is slowly falling when it speaks about falling leaves. Really beautifully crafted.

As I said, the imagery was astonishing. I could almost smell the leaves and certainly could feel the breeze as it swept over his coffin. Of course, this wouldn't be much of a review if I didn't state that I noticed you placing the 'first' part last to bring a grander impact on the parts before it by witholding information to the last. I love poems I have to read through at least twice to get the whole picture.

Wonderfully done. I likey. :)

Your's truly,
Life.



Alakazam BIOS discography Philadelphia à la disco [...] Nitrogen! I.E. polyester Garfunkle'n Garfield!
— John West (The Frugal Wizard's Handbook for Surviving Medieval England by Brandon Sanderson)