we rake them into pyramid pyres,
our satisfaction glowing like the flame
with which we light them.
we watch them smolder and consume,
and flirt with summer's memory,
whose ghost arises from the charred remains.
but on the leaf-cleared ground next day,
we stand unsure of our suburban ritual,
our sense of order questioned
by the pungent smell of conscience
lingering in the air
long after the cremation
we now illogically regret and mourn.
Your poem is beautifully written and has great depth. I like the way you leave the reader wondering about all that is lurking behind this simple act of burning autumn leaves. Magda
You should have stuck with the preserving purpose of the pyramid Phillipa - no good will ever come of burning autumn's reminding fruit! ! What would the wind have left to blow about in November if everydone did this? ! ! ! Very fine poem indeed, and makes the point with great sensitivity! ! jim
autumn fall out and fade out life...good imagery there, Philippa...an artful piece...i liked 10
The leaves detached from a tree in the autumn have been beautifully alluded to explain the intricacies of life. I would like to quote the following lines: by the pungent smell of conscience / lingering in the air / long after the cremation.
I think we tap into deepr, hidden memories sometimes and feel unease at our sanitised, urban, mechanised lives and obsession with orderliness. I feel this is what you are alluding to here? Perhaps we should have let nature feed the leaves back into the ground.
'we now illogically regret and mourn...' An action in post mortem so described as 'illogical'..can be a dream or a nightmare for the poet..depending on her focus..of attention. Pensive...an experience retold? ? Cheers. Subroto
this poem is so beautiful... i love it... keep writing, thanks Athena *** words will change the world ***
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Deep write. well thought Patricia