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Hope

Stems tremble.
Leaves wave in the wind.
White belated flowers gleam.

Shallow sun-puddles sway.
Tawny lace
of worn down shadows swings.

Oaks throw the last words.
Air shimmers and rings.

On the background
of the dark lilac cloud
geese draw angular
silvery shapes – the outline
of their backs and wings shine.

Leaves and needles swirl,
fly and fall,
catch the last sun,
rustle the last nothings,
swirl, fly and fall.

And only one small feather
still hangs on,
too insignificant to be noticed,
too small to follow the law,
it is not falling, simply not.

Like a hope of an old virgin,
like a wish of a dying man,
like my faith in myself,
it cuddles, makes curls and spirals
on the cold pillow
of the autumn wind.

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Comments

It feels like you set out to paint a landscape of autumn and from the brush flowed out these pictorial words with some appropriate metaphors for hope [old virgin, dying man] ...i could see the picture and feel the melancholic mood...

i also liked the lines "on the cold pillow of the autumn wind"....

you may want to change shadows swings to shadows swing

a pleasure read..
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raj (sublime_ocean)

Raj, thank you for reading.
Please, read again the phrase "tawny lace of warn down shadows swings".
It is not that shadows swing it is their lace swings.
I wonder if i can tell it differently.

IRiz

author comment

yes IRiz....you are right....it's the face that swings...sorry for getting it wrong...
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raj (sublime_ocean)

Not face, it is lace.
Imagine when shadows are forming uneven shade with a lot of sun spots going through it looks like lace.
Take a deep breath, relax you don't have to read my poems just enjoy the quiet moment.

IRiz

author comment

Apologies...once again I messed it up...i will just read, learn and keep my mouth shut...

in any case The Lab hasn't happened so there is no criterion regarding number of comments and as it is few care to comment on submissions by this "Indian"...
...............................................................

raj (sublime_ocean)

I care, my friend.

IRiz

author comment

Like a hope of an old virgin,
like a wish of a dying man,
like my faith in myself,
it cuddles, makes curls and spirals
on the cold pillow
of the autumn wind.

like a wish of a dying man,...>>>>>>this appears as pointedly to and for me thanks Irene
exquisite poetry

Dear Lovedly, thank you for reading my poems and visiting my worlds. People call me a landscape poet. Hahaha. You don't want to die with landscape in your mind. Live with it. Live in it. And meet me there.

IRiz

author comment

none can that ever say but
YOUR
Hope
in meeting me some day
I shan't ever betray
When I am again in USA
I shall meet you on your own landscape
Dearest poet
at NIAGARA FALLS

we may

Thank you

IRiz

author comment

and the one feather.. nice poetry

One comment -Sorry to be the only one who does not like "old virgin" After a certain age having passed the better years I don't think those virgins are hoping to have sex. When I think of old I think of like at least 70 ...if you haven't done it yet, I think you're probably over the hope, or desire, of doing it...

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

Hi Mark,
It is always a pleasure to read your comments.
Thank you.
Why do you assume that a hope of an old virgin is about sex?
I used this metaphor to indicate a feeling of impossible to come true, self aware of the imposibility and yet persistent.
The same as a wish of dying person, one still wishes even if there is no time to fullfill the wish.
What an old virgin in my poem might want is open but it is already impossible for her but still desired. For example, happiness of being loved and cherished by her children or happiness to have a life-long companion who knows her better than she herself and so on.

I think I answered to your concern.

IRiz

author comment

But yes, I assume in sexual content, as opposed to a virgin voyage or other use of the word virgin. If the old person's hope was directed otherwise, why use that aspect of her, other than that he or she, is a virgin. I suppose a virgin could be blessed by adopted children, but then we're looking too much into it...
But just one aspect of a very strong poem.

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

Thank you very much for reading, Mark.
I appreciate your time and expertise
and looking forward on catching up reading your poems.

IRiz

author comment
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