11 October 2013

Top Five Friday: The Poems of Autumn



Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.
 ~ Leonardo da Vinci


In October, I am writing about all things autumnal: from art to spooky books, author interviews, recipes, and autumn-inspired writing prompts AND participating in the Two Pages-a-Day writing challenge.


Y
esterday, the rain was romantic.  Today it’s just wet.

And so is my mood.

I was writing a post about the rules for writing a murder mystery and realized that it was going to be long post.  Which goes against one of the rules for writing a readable blog post.  But breaking up a top five post seems uneven to me, so I’m saving it for another day.

To try and get back that romantic rainy feeling, I decided to read poetry.  Here are five that felt like they had a tinge of autumn about them ~ even though they aren’t literally about the season.

To read the entire poem and about the poet, click on the poem title.

Edith Thompson
Apple-green west and an orange bar,
And the crystal eye of a lone, one star . . .
And, "Child, take the shears and cut what you will,
Frost to-night -- so clear and dead-still."

Then, I sally forth, half sad, half proud,
And I come to the velvet, imperial crowd,
The wine-red, the gold, the crimson, the pied, --
The dahlias that reign by the garden-side.

The dahlias I might not touch till to-night!
A gleam of the shears in the fading light,
And I gathered them all, -- the splendid throng,
And in one great sheaf I bore them along.
Thomas Hardy

I have lived with shades so long,
And talked to them so oft,
Since forth from cot and croft
I went mankind among,
   That sometimes they
   In their dim style
   Will pause awhile
   To hear my say;

Julia Ripley Dorr

Oh, hush thee, Earth! Fold thou thy weary palms!
The sunset glory fadeth in the west;
The purple splendor leaves the mountain's crest;
Gray twilight comes as one who beareth alms,
Darkness and silence and delicious calms.

Sara Teasdale

Like barley bending
In low fields by the sea,
Singing in hard wind
Ceaselessly;

Emily Dickinson

"Nature" is what we see—
The Hill—the Afternoon—
Squirrel—Eclipse— the Bumble bee—
Nay—Nature is Heaven—
Nature is what we hear—

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela
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