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Winterfylleth (October)

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Winterfylleth (October)


We die! We die!

scream the old men

of the trees,

as their grip slips

from skeletal fingers

holding them aloft.


They fall to earth

in a blaze of golden glory,

coming to rest

at the feet of

great oaks, sycamores,

birch and elms.


Rustling in their cardigans

of orange and amber

like dry skin

in crimplene.


Those they have left creak and groan -



Children hurling

denuded femur

and fibula -

deadfall wood -

high into canopies

of fire,

to dislodge

the skulls of

horse chestnut

and acorn

for their

playground games.


All the while

the old men whisper

We die! We die!

as their bodies rot

into mulch

and a heavy scent

of decay

arises from their

death beds.


Never has

the passing of ancients

been so glorious.


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John Coopey

Mon 7th Oct 2013 23:08

Vivid imagery. Ian.
I hate autumn.

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Andy N

Mon 7th Oct 2013 13:10

made me shiver this, Ian.

defo made me think too.

good stuff

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Laura Taylor

Sat 5th Oct 2013 18:28

This is fantastic Ian. There's a big shocking eeriness about it, and it's written so well. Love the anthropomorphism device. I was thinking about something very similar recently and got put off cos Bob reckoned Keats had already been there, heh ;D

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Fri 4th Oct 2013 21:22

Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful read!! I too loved the reference to "their cardigans".

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David Blake

Fri 4th Oct 2013 15:47

Very much enjoyed this Ian, especially 'Rustling in their cardigans/of orange and amber'.

Agree with Harry about how 'screaming' it seems. If only trees could actually talk, eh?

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Harry O'Neill

Fri 4th Oct 2013 14:57

I can`t remember ever reading of nature`s
decay being `humanised` in this particular way.

I like the `dry skin` and the `crimpoline`
and the `deadfall wood`.

(maybe `and crack` after that dislodge)

It`s screaming decrepitude somehow `jolts` the
normally passive autumn

Poetry-wise it makes you think.

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