Adeline Foster

Rookie - 261 Points (Instructor of poetry, Hagerstown, MD)

.LEAVE LEAVES


A wind bespoke the silent morn
And shuddered trees that stood half shorn,
So all the leaves came tumbling down
Ablaze with red and gold and brown,
And yellow flecked the carpeted ground
With pattern never loom could mold;
Nor decorator's album told
Such tapestry of mottled gold.

Across that carpet laid so neat
Came scurrying, hurrying little feet
To pick the nuts that lay half hid,
The acorn with its flowery lid
And other treasures there amid
The carpeting of an autumn day.
What a shame I could not stay
But duty called me - and away.

I turned to gaze back at my lawn
And found the lovely colors gone.
Instead a rake and drudgery
Were scattered there awaiting me.
I strained my brain in hope to see
A remnant of the beauty lurk
Beneath the leaves. A useless search
For all I saw was work, work, work.

Submitted: Saturday, September 07, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 09, 2013

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  • Freshman - 2,225 Points Patricia Grantham (12/17/2013 1:04:00 PM)

    Sometimes I would like to leave the leaves alone and enjoy the beauty of
    the different colors that makes for a good blend. But then sad to say it
    eventuall becomes a thick carpet and just as you say work, work, work! . And then
    it's time to get out the rake, rake, rake. (Report) Reply

  • Veteran Poet - 3,908 Points Khairul Ahsan (11/25/2013 3:50:00 AM)

    A beautiful poem.10/10.
    My instant feelings:
    'Oh fallen leaves! I belong to thee.
    Days come, days go,
    I feel her breath,
    In the light Autumn breeze,
    And wait, to join her,
    And thee.' (Report) Reply

  • Freshman - 1,865 Points Lorraine Colon (9/21/2013 6:40:00 PM)

    I enjoyed your poem, Adeline. If only we could command the leaves to leave! They are beautiful, but oh, so much work. They are already falling here in Missouri, but I get them with the lawnmower. But when they start coming down seriously, that's another story. Time to get out the rake. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 13 Points Whisperkwane Lamb (9/18/2013 5:26:00 AM)

    carpet at my home...I adored those little squirrels as my grandkids...and then the work...with love...I love the way
    you looked backed as if...i look in the front or livingroom at the children playing...and then they are gone...no more hurrying little feet cheerful and colorful views...thank you for my seeing (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 3 Points Diana Van Den Berg (9/16/2013 3:25:00 AM)

    I lost myself in the magical beauty of this, and related to it, so completely, with two minor exceptions - those being that I love working in my garden, and that I don’t rake up leaves because my garden is (literally) a small indigenous forest in South Africa, and fallen leaves form its rich living carpet and nourish the soil. My back garden (not forested) has a lawn and only 3 trees, one dead, and the two living ones which are not deciduous (as few are in Durban – our winters are not cold enough) and so few leaves fall – but even those, I don’t rake, and one being an Aloe bainsii (a tree aloe) , its leaves are huge and so I eventually do pick them up and take them away, with sadness.

    I adored those little squirrels you “saw” – we don’t have any here, except in the Southwest Cape, a corner of the country far away from where I live, and by strange co-incidence, my manfriend (in the USA) recently sent me a photo of two in his garden.

    You rhyme with excellence, as few do in current times. I will, when time allows, and sometimes, when it doesn’t, be reading more of your poetry. (Report) Reply

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