You Were A Minute Late.......Until Of Leaves Poem by Soran M. H

You Were A Minute Late.......Until Of Leaves

Rating: 5.0


((You were a minute late.
The train left you behind,
Your poem unfinished.
You woke.

Your reading of the stories of rivers
Was interrupted.
Night fell.

Not acquainted with the deeps of
Oceans
You desired to know the mysteries of
the sunset,
Of the yellowing of leaves.))




Nothing new in the garden.
Every year the flowers in the vase
rise in the same colours
Living just for a season
Then forgotten…

Tears of clouds fall
On the hovel
Then at your feet –
In their shiverings of death
They enter into the earth.

Lonely butterflies
huddle over flowers –
they kiss a bloom and it dies.
A wind rises,
Scatters the butterflies,
Breaks your umbrella.

Apples falling.
The gardner cannot gather them all –
he is sleeping.

Night binds the trees in a dark cloth.
They are petrified
Like deer scenting a hunter –
Legs stiffened, they cannot run.

A dark cloth
Like the shadow of fled spirits or
The darkness of a nightmare at dawn.

Apples putrefy on the tree.
No hand gathers them –
Quickly their season is over.

Nothing new in the garden
The days have grown old without carving
Even two words on the trees
For remembrance …

Oh, the silver river!
It burst from the mountains of the mind
Taking me to the far shore of beginnings –
Things will be different there.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Note: This poem has got the Longest title ever seen, as it start from (you were... until....of leaves)
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Terry Craddock 19 September 2020

Night Crossing Rivers we can still cross by moonlight seeing with hours in dark night sight or foot feel watersplash crossing edged bush craft bush skills guides feet sight is visual sound hear rivers speak when we listen from a soft meander to threat angry flood Inspired by the first two lines in the poem 'You Were A Minute Late.......Until Of Leaves' by the poet Soran M. H and dedicated to the poet Soran M. H.

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Terry Craddock 18 September 2020

'((You were a minute late. The train left you behind, Your poem unfinished. You woke.' This brilliant first stanza intrigues and resonates with me especially because there was a time when I dreamed poems often nights in a row for a short period of time years ago, most I could only remember the first few lines, some most lines, others quite brilliant nothing.

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Terry Craddock 18 September 2020

'Your reading of the stories of rivers Was interrupted. Night fell.' I wrote a succinct comment with the comments on the first two stanzas contrasted but the comment setting allows no meaningful comparison. I will message it to you later. I absolutely loved the entire poem, this is a deep metaphorical poem on life, you were buzzing when you wrote it, it echoes in the lines.

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Terry Craddock 18 September 2020

'Nothing new in the garden The days have grown old without carving Even two words on the trees For remembrance … Oh, the silver river! It burst from the mountains of the mind Taking me to the far shore of beginnings – Things will be different there.' the nothing new and not carving even two words for remembrance reminds, nothing endures lasts forever contrasted with 'Oh, the silver river! ' the vast source of creativity which transcends time in eternal imagination.

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Terry Craddock 19 September 2020

Rivers Read In Path Palm Of Hand Time nature weather erosion hand of time etched into landscape the stories of rivers is water cut path defining least resistance river meander twist turns rapids waterfalls echoes river lives Inspired by my comment on the river stanza in the poem 'You Were A Minute Late.......Until Of Leaves' by the poet Soran M. H and dedicated to the poet Soran M. H.

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Terry Craddock 27 September 2020

In Slept Middle Of Night In Chaos Dark we have all read stories of rivers we who took to risk wilderness mountains we who crossed creeks rivers not with bridges not even swing bridges still dry but in rivers where would we camp near a nice calm creek near the creek with plenty of dry wood about no in heavy rain flash floor creek will sudden night rise in sleep middle of night in chaos dark Inspired by the river stanza in the poem 'You Were A Minute Late.......Until Of Leaves'

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Terry Craddock 27 September 2020

Safe Camp Above Flash Flood Levels this dry wood in line bands is flash flood levels we shall safe camp above this dry wood walk down to get fresh water to boil billy to brew we shall cross creeks by stepping in current flow no silly slow hopping rock to rock to keep dry boots socks risking twisted risking broken ankles Inspired by the river stanza in the poem 'You Were A Minute Late.......Until Of Leaves' by the poet Soran M. H and dedicated to the poet Soran M. H.

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Terry Craddock 27 September 2020

I wrote the poem 'Putting On Wet Socks Wet Boots Is Winter Luck' inspired by the river stanza in the poem 'You Were A Minute Late.......Until Of Leaves' by the poet Soran M. H and dedicated to the poet Soran M. H.

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Terry Craddock 27 September 2020

Death Flood Waters Pushes Pack Up Over Doomed Head should feet be washed out in current beneath in crossing immediately fall back full body length on top of pack pushing down hard on straps attached to bottom of pack because if not done immediately water pushes up pack pushes pack up over head forcing head down to drown so as pack starts to float push down hard on straps to live Inspired by the river stanza in the poem 'You Were A Minute Late.......Until Of Leaves'

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Terry Craddock 27 September 2020

Panic Not In Flood Waters Muddy Death Raging so quick hard down then ride float on pack kicking with feet kick hard kick hard back to bank as water force you are swift washed down stream a few hundred yards half a mile more matters not once safe back at bank pull yourself out where can panic not in flood waters muddy boiling death raging flood waters keep your head keep fighting rising keep head above flood waters

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