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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

By Chance or Appointment - 7. One Bright Tree

It's autumn, time for reflection. If you discover errors or imperfections in these, know that they are mine alone.

My head is stuffed

with fallen leaves,

a heap of highly colored fragments;

scarlet phrases, golden sentences

detached from the main branches

and blown by distraction

to lie amongst a million

dull brown details and neglected cares

which filled the forest of my days

and shaded me from actuality’s rays,

but now curl, dry and lifeless,

to rustle under unheeding feet

while all about me the solemn, silent grey-clad giants

shake their heads in the east wind

as if to pronounce a winter judgement

on unfinished poetry

and thoughts good only to be pressed between

the pages of thick, obscure volumes

and forgotten.

 

~~~ * ~~~

 

One bright tree

full of silent robins

glittered golden in the fading light

where they huddled against the advancing darkness

and whispered among the changing leaves

of bare northern forests

and winter.


Please accept my deepest thanks for reading the occasional pieces posted to this collection. I'm most grateful. Any commentary of any sort or nature, good or bad, is welcome.
Copyright © 2022 Parker Owens; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I like them both, but the second one, took my fancy.  i saw your tree not filled with our thrush aka robins, but the European robin, sweet little things.   Thanks for the lovely visual.

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1 hour ago, Mikiesboy said:

I like them both, but the second one, took my fancy.  i saw your tree not filled with our thrush aka robins, but the European robin, sweet little things.   Thanks for the lovely visual.

Those delightful European robins, they, too must whisper about winter. Thank you for reminding me of them! I’m very glad their tree took your fancy. 

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The Skyscraper is perfect in its compact nature and heavy hitting, natural message. It makes one think about autumn from the birds' point of view. It touches me. 

The first poem is a wow. If has so many images, but they are all masterly controlled. The overall effect is one of a piling of ideas; projects. And to me, the exposition speaks of German poetry. Perhaps some of Stadler and Jentzsch is circulating underneath like a warm current :)

Thanks for writing and sharing your gift with us

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12 hours ago, AC Benus said:

The Skyscraper is perfect in its compact nature and heavy hitting, natural message. It makes one think about autumn from the birds' point of view. It touches me. 

The first poem is a wow. If has so many images, but they are all masterly controlled. The overall effect is one of a piling of ideas; projects. And to me, the exposition speaks of German poetry. Perhaps some of Stadler and Jentzsch is circulating underneath like a warm current :)

Thanks for writing and sharing your gift with us

Thank you very much for your thoughts on these. Lately, I haven’t been able to write anything of any substance. Then, the first poem poured out of my pen unbidden, the moment I turned my eyes to the pile of notes and partial verses accumulated in my sketchbook. Undoubtedly, the Jentzsch you’ve shared added its unconscious influence. 
 

Migration is an odd and unique time. Robins, usually very garrulous birds, behave like silent monks sequestered in their trees. It was an arresting sight to see, yet not hear anything. 

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I love the first poem, it's imagery, it's melody, simply perfect IMHO.

The second reminds me of Die Drei Spatzen (Three Sparrows), by Christian Morgenstern.

I could try a translation, if Google can't find a decent one.

Thank you for these, Parker.

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1 hour ago, Aditus said:

I love the first poem, it's imagery, it's melody, simply perfect IMHO.

The second reminds me of Die Drei Spatzen (Three Sparrows), by Christian Morgenstern.

I could try a translation, if Google can't find a decent one.

Thank you for these, Parker.

I can see why the Skyscraper calls the Morgenstern poem to mind. Thanks for pointing me in that direction! Thank you also for your kind words about the first of these. It was a long time in its formation. 

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Both poems are beautiful. I very much related to the first one. Sometimes we can have too many ideas. :)  Wonderful imagery.

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2 hours ago, Headstall said:

Both poems are beautiful. I very much related to the first one. Sometimes we can have too many ideas. :)  Wonderful imagery.

Thank you so very much for reading these. Each of my fragmented poem pieces were, like a single scarlet leaf, beautiful. But detached from a full poem, they wither. I’m glad you connected with this image. Thanks again. 

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I've re-read them 3 times, and each time, I was reminded of my feelings when fall settled when I lived in the northern U.S.:  The first biddings of fall were of beauty - colorful leaves, crisp air, clear days - soon to be followed by grey days , bare trees, frigid temperatures and eventually snow!  I am not one who relishes either cold weather or bare trees.  Thus, I was left with a feeling of melancholy.  It also reminds me of aging, where there are fewer days ahead than behind and yet so many ideas and projects that will be "pressed between the pages of thick, obscure volumes and forgotten." 

I am left with a strong sense of loneliness, perhaps not what you intended but what these poems evoked in me.

Beautiful writing!

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7 minutes ago, pvtguy said:

I've re-read them 3 times, and each time, I was reminded of my feelings when fall settled when I lived in the northern U.S.:  The first biddings of fall were of beauty - colorful leaves, crisp air, clear days - soon to be followed by grey days , bare trees, frigid temperatures and eventually snow!  I am not one who relishes either cold weather or bare trees.  Thus, I was left with a feeling of melancholy.  It also reminds me of aging, where there are fewer days ahead than behind and yet so many ideas and projects that will be "pressed between the pages of thick, obscure volumes and forgotten." 

I am left with a strong sense of loneliness, perhaps not what you intended but what these poems evoked in me.

Beautiful writing!

You are most kind to read and then re-read these. The trees are indeed bare, and snow is in the forecast. There’s a certain melancholy to these, I agree, but that may be the minor key in which November is played. There’s definitely a sense of aging, too, in both scarlet and dry, curled leaves. Thanks very much for your response and for taking time over these. 

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