tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post8172990367939779711..comments2024-01-18T05:29:43.265-05:00Comments on The Music In It: Adele Kenny's Poetry Blog: Poetry Prompt #24 – AutumnADELE KENNYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09556261298519747516noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-48632621266653497342010-09-29T07:44:16.712-04:002010-09-29T07:44:16.712-04:00Thanks, K.S., for your autumn haiku!Thanks, K.S., for your autumn haiku!ADELE KENNYhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09556261298519747516noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-31024952099019136442010-09-29T07:43:29.062-04:002010-09-29T07:43:29.062-04:00I've been trying to figure out how to post (I ...I've been trying to figure out how to post (I don't have and don't want a Google account). Now I see that others are using "anonymous." Works for me!<br /><br />An autumn haiku:<br /><br />a hawk circling<br />everything changed:<br />what I remember...<br /><br />K. S.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-22140076175095454252010-09-28T07:02:23.409-04:002010-09-28T07:02:23.409-04:00Thanks Anna, Gail, and Basil for sharing your poem...Thanks Anna, Gail, and Basil for sharing your poems! They're all wonderful (such great imagery) and show how well these prompts work. You inspire me!<br /><br />Thanks, Bob for the excerpt from Adele's poem (I have the book and, like the title poem you quote from, the whole collection is filled with music and compelling imagery). <br /><br />I'm trying to work up enough courage to post a poem of my own. :-)<br /><br />Cassie B.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-78965184254754372882010-09-27T07:20:50.302-04:002010-09-27T07:20:50.302-04:00Thanks, Basil! From your forthcoming book! All goo...Thanks, Basil! From your forthcoming book! All good wishes to you!ADELE KENNYhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09556261298519747516noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-45174387298780440322010-09-26T23:34:49.554-04:002010-09-26T23:34:49.554-04:00Scenes from Our Lands
It is late this Friday, thi...Scenes from Our Lands<br /><br />It is late this Friday, this October<br />evening – wind swirls the fallen leaves,<br />a sense of winter fills the air.<br /><br />In our suburban lands shopping centers <br />are about to shut down neon lights switch <br />off, but Home Depot’s still open.<br /><br />In the empty aisles<br />tired workers check the clock<br />as they shift stock on the racks.<br /><br />There are no announcements, no calls <br />for customer inquiries, a few <br />small-time contractors pick plywood.<br /><br />A lonely man in his fifties reads <br />installation instructions on a box,<br />and a warehouse-man lines up his <br /><br />ladder with a shelf while a <br />contractor carries PVC pipes <br />to the checkout. We are on the way <br /><br />home from work, you and I, the only <br />ones here in business clothes, here to <br />select a new liner for our bath. And as <br /><br />a closing announcement fills the air<br />we walk slowly to the front, credit <br />card in hand, ready to call it a night. <br /><br /><br />From Basil Rouskas' Poetry Collection<br />"Redrawing Borders" to be released on 10/10/10<br />Published by Finishing Line PressBasilhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09663203702515912643noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-14248738567568517752010-09-25T15:23:39.435-04:002010-09-25T15:23:39.435-04:00Hi Gail! Thanks so much for sharing your November ...Hi Gail! Thanks so much for sharing your November poem! I can hear the last leaves falling to the sound of that "lonely warble." Wonderful!ADELE KENNYhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09556261298519747516noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-36983771918238848282010-09-25T14:26:26.982-04:002010-09-25T14:26:26.982-04:00NOVEMBER
Gail Fishman Gerwin
Birdsong mocks
as I...NOVEMBER<br />Gail Fishman Gerwin<br /><br />Birdsong mocks <br />as I watch the early <br />November sky,<br />grey with its burden <br />of late autumn <br />against trees garbed <br />in remnants of red <br />and dry brown.<br />A lonely warble plays <br />against encroaching cold, <br />cries I am spring, ready <br />to burst with growth <br />and hope.<br />I am summer, filled <br />with careless joy, <br />sunwashed days.<br />The last leaves fall <br />to the rhythm <br />of birdsongAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-23397615221148301172010-09-25T14:06:00.657-04:002010-09-25T14:06:00.657-04:00Thanks, Adele, from Libby Jacobs.
"Autumn is...Thanks, Adele, from Libby Jacobs.<br /><br />"Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is ripeness and color and a time of maturity; but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. What man can stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon? – Hal BorlandAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-84971473890305661292010-09-25T13:51:55.787-04:002010-09-25T13:51:55.787-04:00Bob! Thanks for remembering that poem! It's be...Bob! Thanks for remembering that poem! It's been a long time since I last read it.ADELE KENNYhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09556261298519747516noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-24257164200761562792010-09-25T13:10:43.282-04:002010-09-25T13:10:43.282-04:00I've always liked this "vision" of a...I've always liked this "vision" of autumn from your poem "Chosen Ghosts."<br /><br />From "Chosen Ghosts" by Adele Kenny (excerpt)<br /><br />A chattering wind brings down the leaves,<br />remnants of bagworm and chestnut lie in the tangle.<br />Moonlight falls in fractions through dead bindweed,<br />on milkweed pods that crack open and float away.<br />The air turns colder.<br />A hard breath blown through the lips of God<br />tugs at the pines like catgut, back and forth,<br />until their stringed tongues tremble and wail.<br />Always in autumn, when the backyard thins<br />and the brittleness starts,<br />I go back to my griefs.<br />I bury the last chrysanthemums<br />and pray for my sorrows, wishing it was still summer<br />when the sky traveled in a thousand directions at once<br />or years ago when every season was spring.<br />But now, here and now,<br />in the whirl of this brief, sad season,<br />I call my ghosts home and gather them around me.<br />Like the flock of geese<br />that sleeps in an open field near the river,<br />they rise in a rush of wings<br />that remembers the victory of flight.bob.fiorellinohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05467645651262666895noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-79260654153939150472010-09-25T10:29:28.327-04:002010-09-25T10:29:28.327-04:00Thanks so much, Anna – for your kind words and for...Thanks so much, Anna – for your kind words and for your poem, which is very moving. You've created a sense of edgy finality (as in the end of the autumn and the end of a life). The strong emotional center of the poem is enhanced by brevity, compressed imagery, and two-line stanzas. Thanks again!ADELE KENNYhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09556261298519747516noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6272430209314356497.post-84065157273891387692010-09-25T09:53:28.133-04:002010-09-25T09:53:28.133-04:00Thank you for this prompt and ALL the great poetry...Thank you for this prompt and ALL the great poetry prompts and information. I tried to register for a Google account but I must have done something incorrectly. The only way I could post was "anonymous." No anonymity intended! My name is Anna Hainsworth, and I live in London.<br /><br />For me, autumn always brings back memories of someone special who committed suicide in October. <br /><br /><br />THAT AUTUMN<br /><br />(In Memory of a Friend Who committed Suicide)<br /><br />And what I remember: color <br />and color, a softness in the air.<br /> <br />Everything swept with the quality <br />of dream. And you – I think I <br /><br />believed you were autumn itself – <br />almost too bright, too much fire – <br /><br />burning, always burning, the way <br />October burns itself out.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com