Falling Short

A fey autumn, its
florid colours scarcely spent,
no mettle left to repel
the presage of an early winter,
or burnished shield, to brandish
in defiance of December’s eager face,
no late lick of flame to salve
such stinging polar breath,
no final flench nor gleen
no swan song, nor last lament
no chance of one last harvest song.

 

 

© Graham Sherwood 11/2017

🌷 (3)

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HAIKU or haiku ►

Comments

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Graham Sherwood

Fri 10th Nov 2017 12:34

Haha! I'm more of a classical boy than an urban tyke. Here are my references Colin!

If the weather flenches, then it looks like it might improve later on, but never actually does.

A gleen is a sudden burst of warm sunshine. Dating back to the 17th century (if not earlier), it’s probably related to an earlier Scandinavian word, glene, for a clear patch of sky.

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Colin Hill

Fri 10th Nov 2017 11:37

some lovely alliteration here Graham and 'no final flench nor gleen' is a great line - the writer clearly enjoying putting pen to paper and thoughts into words. Dare you look up 'flench' in the Urban Dictionary for an alternate take on the end of Autumn? Col.

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Graham Sherwood

Thu 9th Nov 2017 11:01

Hannah and Keith thank you for commenting. Is it just me or does it feel like Autumn came and went so quickly this year?

I see they are already shortening the odds for a white Christmas this year!

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Hannah Collins

Wed 8th Nov 2017 15:07

Hi Graham, winter can come in very quickly, the birds feel the shock, the cold, the leaves can fall in just one night.
Beautiful poem.

Hannah

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keith jeffries

Wed 8th Nov 2017 14:22

Graham, you have caught the mood of late autumn in this poem. A pleasure to read yet foreboding also. Thanks. Keith

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