Listening for the words in a quiet corner of the night. The fiction, poetry, and photography of Jason Evans.
we mourn the continuum of yet another cyclical deterioration and embrace a landscape of an artist's palette.
Lovely prose poem.
Summer slides from the secret places....Nice, Jason, very nice. :-)Tanya
Oh, Jason, you do have a way with words.
Jason, I read your poem first thing in the morning. It's hard for me to react to poetry--I lack the words. But I will try.I get the sense the summer is about to end, so the first line confuses me just a bit, but I suppose I read it wrong. Summer is sliding away. My first impression is that summer is emerging from secret places.Then we will mourn as the world dies. As in the end of the world--too literal I think. Winter?So winter is coming perhaps?I enjoy your prose, but I don't understand what is happening. But then again, I hardly ever understand poetry, and that's why it drives me crazy.I hope you've enjoyed the journey through my soft brain.
I will mourn my garden. It is so full and pregnant with color and form right now. Hard to believe that in a few months, there'll be nothing but bare patches of ground and ice.But you've reminded me that before that, there's beauty in autumn. I look forward to the turning of the leaves and the lessening of the sun; long-shadowed afternoons and quiet talks by the bonfire.Great, thought-provoking post Jason.
Normiekins, an artists palette.... Yes, I like that. :)Marcail, thanks!Tanya, summer is more intimate than the other seasons, I think.Jaye, thank you, my friend. :)Scott, that's okay. :) My writing tends to drive the literal minded crazy! With poetry, or poetic prose, I only want to get you close. To evoke a feeling or moment or observation. Where it takes you will be unique to you. There is no right or wrong answer.Shadowrite, I look forward to the turning of the leaves and the lessening of the sun; long-shadowed afternoons and quiet talks by the bonfire. I'm sighing as I read this. Yes, I'm there with you.
Fall always makes me reflect on the past year, the changing leaves and my changing heart. Introspection is inevitable as I warp myself in the cocoon of Winter.
Great poetry, makes me feel like it's a cool Autumn morning.
how melancholy yet beautiful--wonderful stuff!
Sheesh, thanks for the reminder buddy. I know exactly what you mean.We had dew last night.Our leaves are already turning and summer already seems like a distant memory here on the Emerald Isle. Was there really a summer this year...?
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