tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post1374355583664017972..comments2023-12-05T23:02:28.580-05:00Comments on Excursions and Diversions: Rites of AutumnSteve Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04818671944215117618noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-90338848834493627482012-10-16T15:53:22.903-04:002012-10-16T15:53:22.903-04:00This is such a sad, but beautiful, poem, Steve. I&...This is such a sad, but beautiful, poem, Steve. I've just been up in the country, in the mountains, where those black branches are in full sway - fallen leaves all about--and there is this sadness in the season of wanting to literally re-call earlier moments. A very lovely poem. k. Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-5048673160112562162012-09-09T00:34:30.401-04:002012-09-09T00:34:30.401-04:00Steve, I was captured by the wistful, even mournfu...Steve, I was captured by the wistful, even mournful moments of this poem, and yet it's so true. We live in the moment; we have memories, but how many of them stick, and how many scatter like the leaves?<br /><br />Wonderful imagery here. I could almost smell that crisp autumn air. Loved it, and thanks again for the link. Peace, AmySharp Little Pencilhttp://sharplittlepencil.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-90543905339660748222012-09-07T22:16:23.947-04:002012-09-07T22:16:23.947-04:00Steve, this is out of the poetry ball park with aw...Steve, this is out of the poetry ball park with awesome!!<br /><br />Glad I was standing outside the stadium to catch this for my very own.<br /><br />Once there were moments<br />in your bag that held everything.<br />Then they ran away like cats.<br /><br />Idle revery is where it's AT.<br /><br />xoJannie Funsterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11595786402510366043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-82932885859100050142012-09-06T17:24:40.112-04:002012-09-06T17:24:40.112-04:00I love this:
Without leaves on high
there is sile...I love this: <br />Without leaves on high<br />there is silence in the wood,<br />save for the one song:<br />when winds sweep low,<br />falling from the mountain,<br />gathering its chill.<br /><br />The imagery all through this is somehow sad and yet, accepting of the inevitable. <br />Truly a brilliant piece.Daydreamertoohttp://daydreamertoo.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-48227976315098756072012-09-05T18:09:19.420-04:002012-09-05T18:09:19.420-04:00Lovely sombre words. Thank you.
Anna :o]Lovely sombre words. Thank you.<br /><br />Anna :o]hyperCRYPTICalhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11967085628384237933noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-60435282104074777402012-09-05T09:01:48.610-04:002012-09-05T09:01:48.610-04:00You let the moments slip,
used them to savor yearn...You let the moments slip,<br />used them to savor yearnings,<br />distant hopes, <br />idle revery.<br /><br />I love that!Laurie Kolphttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07494759781947881343noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-31079395636978077782012-09-05T07:02:47.008-04:002012-09-05T07:02:47.008-04:00Love your words...the falling of leaves and clingi...Love your words...the falling of leaves and clinging to the memory resonated with me ~ The last one is specially beautiful ~Scarlethttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03330793338813508704noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-74087292297341152902012-09-05T05:28:05.557-04:002012-09-05T05:28:05.557-04:00I get the sense of an older person whose memory is...I get the sense of an older person whose memory is fading, along with their other abilities, although their desire for life is not. Could just be the way I'm reading it though.<br /><br />THanks for sharing/Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-38908506176481832232012-09-04T23:17:51.079-04:002012-09-04T23:17:51.079-04:00lovely... not hopelessness, but acceptance, that i...lovely... not hopelessness, but acceptance, that is what i felt in these words, somber but not desolate.<br /><br />there is beauty in all of nature's voices, and much beauty in this poem.mrs mediocrityhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01021079985184737831noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-50292201559448422132012-09-04T23:00:26.439-04:002012-09-04T23:00:26.439-04:00There is a repeated desolate beauty here...in the ...There is a repeated desolate beauty here...in the black branches.."desires unmet, yearnings" Beautiful, Steve.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-89317453008022408632012-09-04T20:50:06.054-04:002012-09-04T20:50:06.054-04:00A great write..."Without leaves on high
there...A great write..."Without leaves on high<br />there is silence in the wood,<br />save for the one song:<br />when winds sweep low,<br />falling from the mountain,<br />gathering its chill."<br /><br />simply beautiful!ayalahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13243362803799877014noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-90395729792491189252012-09-04T20:44:23.525-04:002012-09-04T20:44:23.525-04:00This spoke to me of the limitations of art. Very n...This spoke to me of the limitations of art. Very nicely done.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17392858163745232319noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-81157627677177746622012-09-04T19:19:27.610-04:002012-09-04T19:19:27.610-04:00"Without leaves on high
there is silence in t...<br />"Without leaves on high<br />there is silence in the wood,<br />save for the one song:<br />when winds sweep low,<br />falling from the mountain,<br />gathering its chill."<br /><br />The loss, the yearning, in this is almost palpable, as seasons fold and shadows turn to darkness. (Yet hope rests somewhere in the knowledge that all comes full circle, if not back to where we were perhaps to a place where we can move forward once again.)<br />I love your writing Steve, I not only read, but "feel" your poetry, and can disappear in the beauty of your words. Well penned as always, my friend.<br />Ginny Brannanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15298060016652737538noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-52203355655401211982012-09-04T18:31:02.726-04:002012-09-04T18:31:02.726-04:00Steve, yes, Excursions and Diversions is exactly w...Steve, yes, Excursions and Diversions is exactly what I would call this...! For a moment, and just for a moment, my cares dissolved away as I floated down into a chilly, forest floor, whispering with the leaves, admiring the stark black branches, finding a melody in life that soothes the soul. It doesn't need a reason. Or a happy ending, or a witty plot, or any kind of thought. Sometimes we just need to immerse ourselves in care-free and absolute calm, shrouded by mesmerizing beauty. The architecture of your poem did that for me incredibly well. Thank you......John Allen Richterhttp://johnallenrichter.wordpress.com/2012/08/24/edge-of-unspoken-dream/noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-47012143142248963012012-09-04T18:19:47.666-04:002012-09-04T18:19:47.666-04:00i hear the keening in her song...and have heard it...i hear the keening in her song...and have heard it before as well...the mourning of the fallen and shattered leaves makes for a great metaphor as well....sombre is a great word for this...Brian Millerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00722940075884718007noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-28409544429886486372012-09-04T16:57:43.980-04:002012-09-04T16:57:43.980-04:00Nice balanced diction and good sonics in the readi...Nice balanced diction and good sonics in the reading John (@bookdreamer)https://www.blogger.com/profile/11576434749272275190noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-39265774389063934852012-09-04T16:35:08.149-04:002012-09-04T16:35:08.149-04:00Love thisLove thisJenny Hernerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15884658886582080587noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8912094816780327975.post-39754943083022341092012-09-04T14:58:51.465-04:002012-09-04T14:58:51.465-04:00There's a feel of real desolation, of time not...There's a feel of real desolation, of time not just passing, but avalanche-ing away ahead of one, or perhaps on top of one. The image of the bag is palpable, even empty or near empty. The last two stanzas clinch the poem with their somber note and defining details--enjoyed this older work of yours very much, Steve.hedgewitchhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13090696134322515899noreply@blogger.com