On a mossy hill behind a mock castle

we will read Aristophanes to harems

of nymphs strumming their lyre.

Words transform to birds flitting

hearts of lovers while  I contemplate

the perfect angle of your face

breathe in the amber resin of pine trees

that permeate our senses

There in the unruffled pools of your eyes

I will die just a little

artist unknown

142 thoughts on “Come Autumn

  1. Rene, you bring a kind of fire that burns away this new kind of smothered life I’m trying so hard to resist. Sensibly, of course. There is no better relief than to come here and read a while.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much. Your inspiring words and so appreciated.
      I need to tell you that I feel your writing is truly the most sensual I’ve read. Forgive me for being repetitive but I’m spell bound by your gift of expression, completely captivated .

      Like

  2. I died a lot,
    over and over,
    layer on layyer of hope
    torn loose
    and pulled from under like a heartweave rug…
    just for a moment
    much like this,
    where I could start over
    and die a little…

    the way you would have it
    from the far side of those eyes.

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  3. There was an eccentric Englishman named Levi Bone who used to own the land that my paternal grandfather purchased when he set up a farm.

    But this Levi Bone built himself a mock castle as his home overlooking the creek on the farm.

    And behind his mock castle was a mossy hill.

    So reading this poem brought back a lot of memories of visiting my paternal grandparents’ farm.

    There were a lot of birds flying in the skies above that creek, castle ruins and hill.

    And in my imagination, I often imagined nymphs and their faces appearing in the waters of that creek.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. This is so beautiful, such a lovely and peaceful scene you have painted of your mock castle. As a kid I often lay on the grass and imagined faces in the clouds. I really love this, thank you!

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Mind-blowing, Holly! I love this poem so much; I’m blown away from your words and the artistry alone in your captivating, haunting figurative imagery. I’m submerged in it all. WOW!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Late to the party, but the bounty of your words is not diminished.
    A beggars banquet, the table you share is always aplenty. No one could leave hungry.
    xoxoxoxo

    Liked by 1 person

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