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by Sam Hackel-Butt (Age: 28)
copyright 09-06-2005

Age Rating: 10 +


Fluttering, flittering, colorful rain falls. Soft to walk upon with the crunching sound that awakens your mind and soul to the changes of nature. Brisk, sharp air that stings your lungs and makes itself visible, flirting with your lips before evaporating as quickly as it came. Skies of blue, clear, pensive, rain or sun shall you bring? Clouds of silver mist drift lazily above buildings waiting for the first sign of snow, but it won’t come as of yet.

Children laughing as mountains that could rival Everest sit in humble piles of gold, orange, red, their cries of death heavy on the cool breeze, and the colors those of death amidst the red brick buildings as cold as the ground. The fluttering, flittering, colorful rain falls upon hard, packed earth where blossoms cease their sprouting, and now lay unnaturally still amongst a forgotten bicycle in a child’s haste to avoid the Autumn shower now sprinkling like fairy dust from the heavens above.

Clusters of hands reaching out to the sun, absorbing the last of the warmth and glory before they closed up on themselves, awaiting the first drop in temperature, the first chill of impending winter. Wind is short, labored gasps ease their way through the arms of the trees, prying and shaking the remainder of the colorful rain, fluttering, and flittering them away to the cement as hundreds of children pretending to be what they’re not come galloping by with the fruit of the night that only comes once an Autumn when colorful deaths are heavy on the icy air, enjoyed by those who only see just that. Color.

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        05-28-2007     Leigh Gilholm Fisher        

Oy, let me correct myself, this poem isn't little...:) I call things like that, "dumbass attacks". Aww, PnP doesn't have dumbass in the spell checker...too bad...

Leigh of the CC

        05-28-2007     Leigh Gilholm Fisher        

This is a nice little poem, I like your vivid descriptions and comparisons. You captured the look and feel of autumn perfectly, and I also liked how you added a few darker shadows to the poem toward the end. Kayaking in a river during the fall is also pleasant...unless the cranberry bogs were freshly emptied. Even though the descriptions were wonderful, there wasn't really a main crescendo I was hoping for. I know you wrote it that way on purpose, but I just thought I'd mention that. To me, that's the only thing that makes it short of five stars. Oh, and not an error in sight. :) Good work, keep writing.

Leigh of the Commenting Community

        10-21-2005     Paul Gardner        

        09-07-2005     Roger Crique        

In a way, I'm glad that this site is exposed to the eyes of the world. For the world does not normally have the opportunity to witness great works of art such as, Monet's, Davinci's, Vermeer's or Michelangelo's. These masterpieces are hidden away in well protected museums. But this poem, a masterpiece in it's own right, is exposed to everyone's eyes and I hope that everyone can get to see the mastery of this author's indelible brush strokes, upon the riches of canvas, our imagination. Thank you, Sam, for you are truly a master of imagery as well as an outstanding poet!

        09-07-2005     Anthony Lane Stahlhut        

I love the fall and all the different colors that the leaves turn into. This was a nice visit with autumn. Anthony

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