I hear it's Fall At least, that's what they all say. The crackle of leaves beneath rubber The whiff of cider at supper. Is it true? Has Autumn come to show her rusty face? Summer's warm gaze upon my skin fail to convince, however but there's no mistaking neither leaves' deaths, nor that cool, sweet breath. And regarding balding golden groves, I suppose we are nearing November. Always found it strange here how quick the seasons change (It snowed in May, for heaven's sake) but Autumn's temperament is something else. No bells to warn, no early clues Cold or warm? Sandals or shoes? It's as if Summer and Winter composed a duet for I wake with shivers, but I labor with sweats. Her eyes weep daily, though mine stay narrow. "Bipolar," in one word, for it feels like snow! The sun high, crowds abound showing skin. The sun low, clothing lets no air in. So is it true what they say about weather in the Volunteer State? "If you don't like it, just wait!" If only Autumn's smile would let me forget her predecessor. If only her breath didn't belong to her successor. If only I found her moodiness endearing! Instead I find it unnatural, her inconsistency. All I desire is some semblance of normalcy! To watch the leaves dance in their descent! To require no need to dress in layers! To hush the nay-sayers and cheer the players! To drown my sorrows and my discontent because steady sometimes though, she has been since every game day, we almost win! Autumn, I think you should leave. I think we're through and no, it's not me. It is most definitely you. Spoiler: Non poetry stuff Okay, so since I want to be a writer, I've returned to school (online). In my Intro to Creative Writing class, our very first assignment was to create a poem. I have absolutely never created a poem. Poetry seems so complicated to me. Online classes also don't have enough time, in my opinion, to properly teach each subject with the detail it deserves, but it did scratch the surface. Anyway, the prompt I chose was the current season where I live and I was having trouble with it until the past game where we lost against Florida for the eleventh year in a row BY ONE POINT THAT THEY GAINED IN THE LAST MINUTE. So...yeah. I like poetry, but I don't understand poetry. I have no plans to ever pursue the subject, but this is my first poem so I thought I'd share.
I meant to share this before like 8 months ago, but I had to edit the poem for a different assignment. I waited until the very last minute again so I didn't get too into the edit. Still, here's the second version. ------------------------------------------------------------ I hear it’s Fall At least, that’s what they all say The crackle of leaves beneath rubber The whiff of cider at supper. Is it true? Has Autumn come to show her rusty face? Summer’s warm gaze upon my skin fail to convince, however but there’s no mistaking neither leaves’ deaths, nor that cool, sweet breath. And regarding balding golden groves, I suppose we are nearing November. Always found it strange here how quick the seasons change (It snowed in May, for heaven’s sake) but Autumn’s temperament is something else. Sandals? Shoes? Short sleeve or long? Will it be cold or will it be warm? Will the sun come out or will it storm? I want to know! It’s as if Summer and Winter composed a duet For I wake with shivers, but work with sweats. Her eyes weep daily, though mine stay narrow. “Bipolar,” in one word, for it feels like snow! Early morning, wear your jacket Then sweat from noon to midnight. We have a saying about Tennessee weather “If you don’t like it, just wait five minutes!” If only Autumn’s smile would let me forget her predecessor. If only her breath didn’t belong to her successor. If only I found her moodiness endearing! Instead I find it unnatural, her inconsistency. All I desire is some semblance of normalcy! To watch the leaves dance in their descent! To require no need to dress in layers! To hush the nay-sayers and cheer the players! To drown my sorrows and my discontent because steady sometimes though, she has been since every game day, we almost win! Autumn, I think you should leave. I think we’re through And no, it’s not me. It is most definitely you.
I love not only the name of Autumn, but the meaning behind it. :) It is my favorite season and I adore how you captured her in your poem! (super inspired! D: )
