vandiemenspeak
vandiemenspeak
May 16, 2017

A new season is upon me

Even if this is a godless universe
or predetermined path applied
a new season is upon me,
it is flamed haired
and fire eyed

A new season is upon me, radiant and true
turning all the blue haze of the old world
into a red pulse renewed

I stride the streets, straddle the days
watch the noon tides braid the hill
but never knew what dark lustre lay
in dormant creeping shadows distilled

A new season is upon me, one scarce divined
frail in her beauty, it touched on me
lavishing wild in her worldly mind

Now I am rare to linger, long and quiet
when I can reign in hell that girths me round
and form it into dreams, that become light,
and from that light astound

And take it to her yet, as love
in brocades sewn, detailed the more,
for all that's singing, this night above
Is meant for her, that I long for,

About This Poem

Last Few Words: An inverse seasonal poem of renewal, from down under. Enjoy. A few changes to my favourite new season..

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Tasmania,Australia,Earth,Solar Systems,Milky way,Pint of Guniess, AUS

Favorite Poets: Glen Richards

More from this author

Comments

Geezer

Geezer

7 years 11 months ago

immediately what I was reading. I like this much. ~ Gee.
.

Geezer

even more now that the edits are made. Just curious about the line: "Noon tides braid the hill " ?
~ Gee.
.

vandiemenspeak

Tried to get back and reply through dodgy internet. Noontide - arcane word for a particular time of day, when, at this time of year, I just notice the light hitting the big hill (Wellington) and light dancing around ornate like, and thought - braid, like the girl's hair that's kinda implicit in the poem. Just a way of seeing something at that particular time.

Thanks Geez.

Chris

jane210660

Slightly different angle than Keats and his 'Ode To Autumn'
but non the less just as stirring. Some really fantastic phrases and images.

I really, really enjoyed reading this.
Jx

vandiemenspeak

And sweet that you mention Keats' Ode to Autumn, and more hopeful (hopefully) than Shelley "Autumn a dirge" from Seasons..more like here at moment:
"The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing," - made a few adjustments, as I wasn't quite happy, would be a candidate for spring contest, were it not so cold and wintry here, in the upside down!

Thanks.
Take care.
Chris.

Eumolpus

another fine work, an excellent theme, one which allows itself to work in many directions.
I try to approach each poem as a unique painting, seen alone on it own wall. In this spirit, I need to know why/how you are living in a reign of hell, what, for me, becomes the center of the composition. The season change seems to bring hope to the godless world, renewing it, and then we reach to you. If the suffering is not defined, tell us so.
Then we are back to hope and renewal. I think all is beautifully written. I would consider punching up the last line...I believe the words will come to you if you play with it, it tie the whole thing together a bit more. Also I like switching the AND, I think it has better sound.
a new season is upon me,
it is flamed haired
AND it is fire eyed

As usual your work is compelling and intellectual. And it's also poetry, with some stunning lines.

vandiemenspeak

Just a couple of quick lines, gone midnight here. I have taken your suggestions, and more, tweaked the end, plus a few other bits..hopefully reads better. The hell, is mere pathos, and indicative of a lingering thought, that was reshaped into something new by the observation that this new season, which may be more than a passing autumnal flurry, stirred something, and changed the writers outlook. Hopefully reads better.

Thanks again for the insightful comments.

Chris.

Esker

Esker

7 years 11 months ago

i know the woods...the woods know me
the sunlight in shades in humid heat
falling int twisting off the leafy shine
the dark glimmering
the thick tropic embrace of the shifting
sounds muted and engaged..
the breaks where the sun
clouds spoke...

essence

thank U chris

mr wolf

S

Noon tides can rise
They bubble onto dangerous shores
Hills may become spent swamps
Where the imagination once tolled
Or the rise may transpire into
Watery lies
Or rising through the grit, over the rocks
Onto moon lit eyes

vandiemenspeak

Thank you HatterScatter - cool name BTW, I love a reply in the form of a poem, Esker does this all the time. A certain philosopher once said, that we should in fact communicate like this.

Noon tides can rise
and fall like the nations of day
and night, they come
they go, as is light's want-
yet stoic and staid hills
indifferent to the sun
refrain from doing so

Thanks for stopping by.

Chris.

S

Stoic and staid your hills may be made
Rivers below turn back to streams of old
Under the grit and under the boulder
The streams hold their own with freedom held under

lovedly

braid
arcane
stoic

the beauty of autumn
many times
I have captured
and
many a poet has been enraptured
the autumnous of Loved's poetry
is one worth
an en-scapulature....
braid
arcane
stoic

a new word
add to it your own meaning
I create words
like Shakespeare once did

vandiemenspeak

I don't mind it - but I have a new obsession, getting into the head of someone who could organically instinctively enumerate great words, without directly experiencing life in the sense that we know it, the more I read the more I understand, but purity is diluted, see:

https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/poems/amanuensis

New muse is on the scene,
Fevered mind and twilight transform:
Lampposts become cyclops
Trees become the clawing wraiths that hey seem to be
The city thumps like an electric heart
An I tread carefully

Cheers.