Xillus_Xavier
10-25-2007, 07:20 PM
I've never tried to write Free Verse before so I decided to give it a shot. Tell me what you think.
The Passing of a Season
October rain welcomes me
at the end of my labor.
Without malevolence the somber
miasma drapes its damp aura
down upon me as mournful tears
for summers' dissolution.
The old seasons' vitality, fading
for weeks, spent its final, tepid
gasp while I earned my daily keep indoors.
Pall-bearing clouds now lead the funeral
precession as they slowly move from
west to east, covering the parking lot
and I in their heavenly emotion.
I feel the crisp baby breath of autumn
whispering chills across my unsuspecting
skin as I head to the security of my car.
Millions of tiny fists of flesh
clench and cower on my exposed arms and
neck in response to this nippy newcomer,
to which my mantle must acclimatize.
In the imminent weeks and months these
temporally tame sensations will pale in
comparison as the autumnal neophyte becomes
the connoisseur, then cedes to the deeper
echelons of winters' icy embrace.
I reach the refuge of my car and seek
consolation from the fallible condition,
making the heater growl in bewilderment as I
stir it from its seven month slumber.
My yearning hands await and welcomes the
warmth as it flows forth from vents that just
yesterday expelled cooler comforts.
I cast my eyes toward the sullen sky, through the
rain and leaf-covered windshield and I say a
prayer for the passing of that warm and loving old man.
I will miss him.
The Passing of a Season
October rain welcomes me
at the end of my labor.
Without malevolence the somber
miasma drapes its damp aura
down upon me as mournful tears
for summers' dissolution.
The old seasons' vitality, fading
for weeks, spent its final, tepid
gasp while I earned my daily keep indoors.
Pall-bearing clouds now lead the funeral
precession as they slowly move from
west to east, covering the parking lot
and I in their heavenly emotion.
I feel the crisp baby breath of autumn
whispering chills across my unsuspecting
skin as I head to the security of my car.
Millions of tiny fists of flesh
clench and cower on my exposed arms and
neck in response to this nippy newcomer,
to which my mantle must acclimatize.
In the imminent weeks and months these
temporally tame sensations will pale in
comparison as the autumnal neophyte becomes
the connoisseur, then cedes to the deeper
echelons of winters' icy embrace.
I reach the refuge of my car and seek
consolation from the fallible condition,
making the heater growl in bewilderment as I
stir it from its seven month slumber.
My yearning hands await and welcomes the
warmth as it flows forth from vents that just
yesterday expelled cooler comforts.
I cast my eyes toward the sullen sky, through the
rain and leaf-covered windshield and I say a
prayer for the passing of that warm and loving old man.
I will miss him.