“I don’t think inspiration just comes from the sky. I think you have to sit down and you have to work. Sometimes it’s really hard, and sometimes things come easier, but really you have to show up, you have to get to work, and you have to have determination.”
Tara Donovan, sculptor
FALLEN AUTUMN LEAVES
Fallen autumn leaves
Keep their color and beauty
Briefly, then decay
Decayed autumn leaves
A much needed part of life
Future flower food
Nature wastes naught
recalls every dead leaf
that feeds the life of each fresh bud
if past’s ghosts filled her heart’s echo chamber
they would drown out the living beat
of spirit recycled
Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me
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Not quite a sonnet for Frank Hubany’s dverse challenge. I’m fond of iambic pentametre.
Dark falls so fast, the year spins to a close,
Clouds rush across the darkening sunset sky,
The leaves are turning, falling is the rose,
Our hours dwindling with the sun’s last sigh.
No twilight lingers where the fox and hare
Dance with the swirling of the pearly mist,
Cold teeth are baring in the evening air,
And autumn’s cheek grows cold with winter kissed.
Would that the balmy wind, so full of joy
At summer’s brink, when all the world was green,
Blow still among these tired boughs that ploy
Beneath the north wind’s bite, bitter and keen.
Yet if this autumn’s gold was never shed,
Would spring from winter’s blood ever be bled?