A Call For August Poem by Sandra Fowler
A Call For August
There is a blue fragrance, essence of dusk.
The smoke of last things lingers on old clothes.
Sun has become as rare as goldenrod.
I call for August, but no answer comes.
Autumn awaits across a worn doorsill.
I need you to make sense of falling leaves,
When death paints a rich picture ot itself,
And shadows measure out the long way home.
Whatever you describe could be either smelt, tasted, felt or seen. Your messages are wafted across on a gentle wind. You make sure that a reader uses every faculty to receive your message in its totality. Take care.
This haunting poem is filled with the rich colour of Autumn. A reluctant acceptance of life's inevitable decay, your images continue to delight and your lyrical words rock the reader like a lullaby. Beautifully sad. love, Allie xxxx
Scintillating with no word wasted.Thank you for sharing this gem.10 Best regards, John
The poetic imagery of the last line, tenderly touches my mind! As lengthening shadows point towards home, an eternal refuge for my chained soul! 10+ -Raj Nandy
I call for August but no answer comes- such an achingly beautiful line. that's life. how through unusual images you convey the impermanence fragility of life. sharing ourselves with someone who understands is deepest human desire. i have read it second time. your poetry grows on me as a reader. thanks Sandra Warm Regards Mamta
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 5:28:54 PM # 1.0.0.1119
You also know symbolism which is very good to use. The reason why I read this is because I was born on that month. You are also good with detail. BRAVO! ! !