Autumn Sonnet
I hate to see the woodlands flirt
In Mother Nature's annual farce.
Trees coyly lift and shake their skirts
Leave old, dead leaves to litter grass
She KNOWS the frost and snow will come.
She KNOWS the weak and old will die
But still she thinks we are so dumb,
Again we'll seek pie in the sky.
And so this weary, unloved year,
Wends on towards its death, Goodbye.
And autumn will not warm nor cheer,
It is no beacon in the sky.
For Autumn means no more to me,
Than dying leaves blown from a tree.
Comments
Tam
Not sure why this one has been left behind but I liked the persistence in the frame of mind that this seems to be built on, Yours Ian.T
autumn
roll on spring! thanks , Ian, glad you liked it
Ian
I tried a new first verse.
I tried a new first verse. What do you think?
Thanks for the input
Ian
I always get a bit of a woody when I see a new post from you.
Apposite, the trees revealing their woodiness. Your work is changing man, have you changed muses, or trained your old one better? You are achieving the most difficult task of combining humour with message.
My only personal peeve is the caps in KNOWS. If you really must emphasise it with form perhaps italics. Select Advanced formatting, select the word and press Ctrl I
Thanks
You really have the knack of combining two more difficult tasks, that of encouragement and education. For that I am deeply in your debt. My muse and I have our differences from time to time, but she is much smaller than I and easily bullied.
Regards
Ian