Below, you will see two versions of my very first poem.
Its important to understand that the first version of the poem
is exactly as I wrote it at 6: 15 to 6: 30 PM on November 2nd
1970. I made no changes to it. It is also important to know
that this was, in fact, my first ever attempt to write a poem
of any kind whatsoever. The second version is modified from
the first because I wanted to demonstrate how a few simple
word changes can convert a rather average poem of some
quality into a poem of great quality and structure.
In early November the air is clear
With many sounds of lovers near.
Not as the April birds that sing
Nor as the Sunday church bells ring.
But rather to the rhythm of rain,
The hearts of lovers beat again.
For it's not true love that blooms in spring
Nor is it of love that birds do sing.
Rather of that love soon gone
And never seems to carry on.
That April love that all partake,
But very few ever make.
It's all year long this false love swells
Till in November true love dwells.
In November the air is clear
With many sounds of lovers near.
Not as the April birds that sing
Nor as the Sunday church bells ring.
Rather to the rhythm of rain,
The hearts of lovers beat again.
It's not true love that blooms in spring.
Nor is it love, that birds will sing.
But rather of that love soon gone
Which never seems to carry on.
That April love that all partake
And very few will ever make.
It's all year long this false love swells
Till in November, true love dwells.
I have removed the voting option on this poem
and placed it in my Hall Of Fame, due to its
history described above and its usefulness as
an example to the readers.
Wow, Greenwolfe, wow. It truly has inspired me to pen my thought in verse. I never thought it would be so easy. But since it came right from your heart so it looks so easy. Anyway, in my case whether I fall in love in April or November it won't last long, ha ha aha. But your poem is fantastic. Now I am getting emotional thinking of my first love that failed. It still hurts. Where is my handkerchief? ? ? Take care. Cya. Keep smiling.
Wow! i seriously adore your writing...I can seriously learn from you.
When im finished commenting on your work im going to favorite your poems
Very light, warm, and refreshing it felt like I was actually their which means you are a great writer, if you can take your reader to diffrent places Well done!
A full bodied, beautiful poem! Brilliantly expressed and so well embroided poetically. Lovely; D
such words from someone that has never written before means the person is a natural poet. which you, my dear, are. your words always expressed so elegantly.
obviously you are a born poet sir...born to be great...1970's piece.? great....a collector's item...while reading this, .i feel i exist already during that time or I'm in a time machine.......admire for keeping your composition til this time...a poet by mind and heart to keep its compositions til the end of time.......as the poet should be? ...thanks sir for sharing this to us...November love (its November) .....
this is what makes you a great poet sir.......there is nothing more to say...! !
There are two things that make a great poet: how the poet inspires the reader and in admiration if I could say 'I wish had written that poem'.Wonderful**********************~>
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
These days Poetry written in iambic tetrameter is rare, but here you will find fine examples of strong traditional rhythm and metre. November Love shows how a poet develops an 'ear' in his writing. Rgds, Ivan