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    Parker Owens
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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. 

Disasters, Delights and Other Detours - 11. Fall Sightings

Here are some Haiku snapshots around my home. They are better than the photos I take, I think.

October Morning

The slim rising moon,
fit consort for Orion,
cannot flee sunrise.

*

Early dawn sunlight
shines through golden foliage,
tinting the morning.

*

Deer feed in the mist,
stealing quick bites, tails flicking,
alert to the wind.

*

Luxuriant vines
turn from lime to bright lemon,
then drop their garments.

*

Brilliant deep blue skies,
crisp air carrying woodsmoke,
mark the season's change.

 

November Harvest

Sharp, green clustered leaves,
laid flat by the early snow,
bow reluctantly.

*

Bright orange treasure,
imprisoned in frozen soil,
yields sweetness when freed.

*
Withered, bent, grey stalks,
ponderous with full seed-heads,
nod in the cold wind.

*

Long dried mottled pods
rustle on sinewy stems,
whispering of spring.

*

Bright, blood-red berries,
progeny of pollened bees,
recall their blossoms.

If you have comments, or snapshots of your own to share, I would love to see them. Thank you!
Copyright © 2017 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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Chapter Comments

cold nights and crisp chilly days, that wind and bright sun... you made me feel them all.. great collection, Parker

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3 hours ago, Mikiesboy said:

cold nights and crisp chilly days, that wind and bright sun... you made me feel them all.. great collection, Parker

 

Thank you, tim.  I am glad you felt some of the experience, too.

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If able to close my eyes and hear these words read to me I would be transported. Alas the dog either cannot or will not read them to me.

I note you seem to have an affinity for poetry forms based on syllable counts. Is it perhaps your soul sings in mathematical timbre?

Edited by dughlas
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34 minutes ago, dughlas said:

If able to close my eyes and hear these words read to me I would be transported. Alas the dog either cannot or will not read them to me.

I note you seem to have an affinity for poetry forms based on syllable counts. Is it perhaps your soul sings in mathematical timbre?

 

Numbers

sing in voices

consonant with my soul;

their clear-pitched trebles resonate

purely

off stones

laid deep in my mind's foundations,

creating harmonies

before my world

was born.

 

Thank you for reading these, and for your thoughtful and generous response.

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  • Site Administrator

Colorful snapshots

capture seasonal changes

quite masterfully  

 

:worship::hug::kiss: 

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1 hour ago, Valkyrie said:

Colorful snapshots

capture seasonal changes

quite masterfully  

 

:worship::hug::kiss: 

 

Thank you for your poetic and generous response. :) 

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2 hours ago, Defiance19 said:

These are amazing Parker.  I agree with Dugh on feeling transported.. 

 

Thank you, Def. Now we both have fallen leaves sticking to our damp boots. Glad you could see some of what I saw, too. 

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Such succulent, brightly hued word paintings. They ping off the page, each and every one. Bright orange treasure is my favourite, it's vibrancy enhanced wonderfully by the withered, bent greyness of the next. Perfect.

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1 minute ago, northie said:

Such succulent, brightly hued word paintings. They ping off the page, each and every one. Bright orange treasure is my favourite, it's vibrancy enhanced wonderfully by the withered, bent greyness of the next. Perfect.

 

I am very pleased these made you smile. Despite the grayness that suffuses November, perhaps it is the unexpected colors that stand out. At least, before the world is shrouded in white. Thank you for reading these, and for your response!

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