Beginnings

Nothing disturbs me now the onus of
summer is leavened by russet and gold;
even blue skies and warm reflective evenings
become confined almost wholly to memory
as colour slips and the bleak winds blow.

But here and now I am writing more than a poem;
I am writing of frankincense in a godless age,
the soon to come sparse winter grasses,
stocks and shares, the mortality of dreams,
the rise of a new, neon lit Bethlehem.

Thus, I raise my glass to the continuation of time,
the countless suns and moons waiting in the wings,
that reflecting the mystery of eternal change,
somehow remain eternally the same.

7 comments

  1. bungler–time does go by/// I l liked your musical phrases like ‘bleak winds blow’ and ‘waiting in the wings.’ it’s sad to see color go, but you offer up an optimistic close ‘eternally’—-kallie

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  2. “I raise my glass to the continuation of time,”

    I raise my glass to you, Douglas, and to time…it’s continuation and it’s favor.

    This poem understands that the seasons of all life are the same.
    There is a time of winter, a time of spring.

    “Nothing disturbs me now the onus of
    summer is leavened by russet and gold;”

    The peace of these lines surrounds the reader and seeps inside. It is an awesome
    season. Your poem celebrates it awesomely.

    Sarah

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  3. I am sure that many people dislike autumn. In fact I know this is true but what surprises me is that most of the poets here like the fall. It is my favourite time of year.
    I am energised in September and still want to go to school with clean notebooks and sharp pencils . As the season moves on I begin to nest and ready my home and mind for the changes to come.
    I thank you most sincerely for the truth that the sun will rise and the moon will wax and wain and that, all the external noise will not stop or change.
    thank you
    ely

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  4. Hi Douglaus

    Love the imagery and most of all the reflective poignancy of this poem! Autumn is a time that harvest our thoughts as well as a colorful blend of leaves. I feel a sense of peace yet also resolve in this poem to a new age that is coming, one sparse in its spirituality but lit by its neon illusion —

    But here and now I am writing more than a poem;
    I am writing of frankincense in a godless age,
    the soon to come sparse winter grasses,
    stocks and shares, the mortality of dreams,
    the rise of a new, neon lit Bethlehem.

    while in the background nature still goes through her cycles with flare and loss retaining her natural dignity. Eternal change is the constant variable throughout eons of years with their cycle of seasons. And perhaps the mystery is how we accept the change and still retain the valuable beauty of what lingers and what we knew. With every end, there is also a beginning.

    Such a beautiful poem —
    thank you for sharing this,
    Wendy

    Like

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