A Transitional Poem

[Hawkman]

I have marked the changing season
by the taste of autumn on the air,
the sharp damp smells of woodland moss
and the old familiar tingle of cold skin.

With evening ever sooner, night falls
like the drooping eyelid of a weary sun,
while summer rocks herself to sleep
to dream anew of coming years.

On tired branches leaves retain their hold,
not yet pale with approaching death
or blushing at the thought of naked trees,
but still, preparing for departure on the breeze.

[Jack of Hearts]

Got no business communicating with anyone right now in any meaningful way but this is special. Thanks Hawk.






J

[Delta40]

Everything an English poem should be - miss that moss....

[hallaig]

Love the last verse, though not sure of having a final rhyme. You're so technically good i wonder why your idioms are so self-consciously anachronistic, of another age?

[hillwalker]

The first poem of this year's impending autumn - quite fitting that the master of nature poetry himself posts it on here for us to enjoy.

H

[Hawkman]

Jack: I'm sorry to hear you feel unable to communicate meaningfully, but I'm happy to assure you that I don't share your appraisal of your abilities. "Special" and "thanks" convey more than enough for me to appreciate, so thank you back.

Delta: Happy to give you a glimpse of "home" :)

Hallaig: firstly, thanks for the compliment vis my technical competence. However, I'd be inclined to take issue with your diagnosis of "self-consciously anachronistic." I am not offended by your comment by the way, I just wish to explain my position.

I was lucky enough to grow up in a household where English was spoken and appreciated for its richness and heritage. It is one of the most expressive languages on the planet. I've been practising it for over 50 years now and I like what it can do. For me the language of a poem must be elegent and flowing and used to convey the richness of ideas, images and style while form should match with subject. I have to feel it. Being a slave to contemporary sensibilities at the expense of expression is, for me, unthinkable. This poem's first draft did not end with a couplet, but it didn't "feel" right. To have left it as it was would have been far more self-consciously rebellious than satisfyingly tranquil.

This doesn't mean that I can't write in styles which you would perhaps consider more in step with current fads. If you choose, you may find some examples I have posted previously on this forum, Kingfisher, Urban Fox and Distance are three that spring to mind, but it is the subject which determines form and style. There will always be a subjective response to my writing and I don't quibble at it. People may like it or not, but I hope they won't dismiss it on the grounds of dogmatic adherence to any contemporary politics of "Art". I can only remain true to my personal aesthetic.

I thank you all again for reading, for liking what you liked, and for your comments.

Live and be well - H

[Silas Thorne]

Love the second and third strophes here. 'not yet pale' tripped me up on the first couple of readings though, but I think I feel the lie of the words now. I particularly like the way the comma in the last line after 'but still' slows 'preparing' down, waiting for the breeze.

[Hawkman]

Thanks hill, but I thought that was your mantle :D

H

and Silas! No sooner have I responded to a comment than another one pops up! Thanks for reading and enjoying. Glad you liked it.

Best, H

[aliengirl]

The very opening lines promised that the whole poem would be a lovely one. The last stanza is the best. Splendid!

[Varenne Rodin]

For a vain little egotist such as me, your words are humbling to look upon.

I felt a little sad for summer, which was tough to do because I am eager for this one to end. I'm a lovely shade of not quite bronze, and I have enjoyed beach time and surfing, but the sun is scorching my little garden to death. Hurry, autumn!

Beautiful transitional poem, sir.

[Varenne Rodin]

I used "little" three times because I like it today.

[PrinceMyshkin]

There's something about this poem, like steering one's boat (equipped with every efficiency) just out of harbour then turning it quickly around to bring it back in.

[Hawkman]

Thanks Ripley, glad you enjoyed it :)

Varenne, my favourite Gorgon, I'm delighted that you found time to spare from your regimen of egotistical vanity to drop by and read my poem :D I'm even more delighted that you seem to have enjoyed it, and that you even saw fit to grace my thread with two posts! Such generosity is very much appreciated, especially as your seductive avatar is now in stereo lol. Sorry to hear your diminutive garden is being scorched. Hopefully you won't have too long to wait before the season changes for you.

Prince: I take it you'd have liked the poem to be longer. You unwittingly employed a nautical analogy which is very familiar to me. I once had a skipper who would have called this, "Poking our nose out". I spent much time on small ships and the winter weather could be quite dangerous. If we proceeded beyond the breakwater and my safely stowed typewriter still decided to fall on me (in response to the violent motion induced by rough seas) it would invariably indicate that we would soon return to harbour, providing we were actually able to put about without broaching.

I remember one occasion when both he and his chair fell on me, knocking me away from the wheel, and I ended up lying underneath them both in the corner of the bridge when a big goffa hit us on the beam. I think we rolled to about 60 degrees. Ah, happy days!

Live long and prosper - H

[IceM]

I actually find myself disarmed by the majesty of the scene of this poem. I had just finished reading an essay on poetry, then to read this soon after felt as though I'd read a manifestation of what the essay had considered "great." The intimacy of this scene, to me, carries more magic than the idea of a transition of the seasons--for, at least in the wooded areas of California, it is the summer/autumn time of the year that is most beautiful.

I was actually going to write about this idea in a few days, but I'll extend it to a few weeks to avoid comparison.

Beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing.

[everyadventure]

I like this one. It's a difficult task to describe something as common as a season change in a new way, but I think you've done it. "Summer rocks herself to sleep" was my favorite line. I might nix the word "old" before familiar, as it is implied in the latter.

And I am rather tickled by the image of you typing away on a boat...

[Hawkman]

IceM, Thanks very much :) I'm glad you got so much out of it. I'll keep an eye out for your poem and I look forward to reading it.

ea: new shoes! The old reflects my advancing years, lol. very pleased that you like the poem though. As for typing on a boat, well It was about 100ft long, but I didn't do much typing at sea. The ship was too small to have a teleprinter and I used a morse key or voice circuit for sending messages. The typewriter was for the benefit of the skipper, who couldn't read my writing - lol.

Thanks for your comments folks - H

[everyadventure]

Hawk, you are an extraordinarily fascinating individual! And I'm not just saying that because you noticed my shoes :)

[DocHeart]

Much like Jack above, I came across your poem at a moment when I should be forbidden to make any sounds - including typing sounds. But thanks for this beauty. One of those LitNet posts that make me think "wow - so much talent, and he's sharing it freely and for free."

Best regards,
DH

[Hawkman]

ea: no one has ever admitted to being fascinated by me before, so thanks for that :D

Doc: thanks, but I just do what I do. I'm very happy that you seem to like it.

Live long in prosperity and wellness - H

[AuntShecky]

Very nice one. It starts off slowly but the final two-thirds
of the piece render it special.

Particularly delightful: "drooping eyelids" and the idea branches that branches would "blush" at the thought of impeding nakedness.

No end rhymes except for the final couplet--purists would say "none or all." Not yours fooly. In my opinion, this works.

[tailor STATELY]

Enjoyed.

Summer still has its grip on the scruff of our necks in my portion of Cali. Looking forward to that transitional.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[mutedresponse]

Beautiful poem.

Loved the "like the drooping eyelid of a weary sun" I so did a droop to see if anything changes :)

And how about? "approaching fall", I found "death" too strong a word for my liking. I might be totally wrong.

[Hawkman]

Auntie: Hi and thanks for reading and liking :) Glad you aprreciated my similes and metaphors (and my couplet) :D

tS: thank you too. It'll be a while before the leaves turn down here too. Probably another month or so but I can feel the autumn coming all the same. The longwing boys will be flying grouse on the high moors in Scotland and Yorkshire. Lucky devils.

mutedresponse: I'm glad that you liked the poem too. I've already used falls with "night falls" so saying fall as you suggest would be a bit repetative. Besides, "pale with approaching fall" lacks the impact and essential truth of the leaves dying. Autumn is the transition between the abundant life of summer and the die-off winter brings. Thanks for reading and for your comments.

Live long and prosper - H