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“Autumn” – Promote Yourself

autumn landscape
Autumn is like an old book:
Marred spines turn mean yellow,
staples rust red-orange.

Every stained page is stressed
by a splat of color. Rough-red,
like an old tavern,

we become hungry birds
and prepare for fall.
Shape and shadow are candied citron

as lanterns turn bitter yellow. Autumn
is a red fox, a goblet filled with dark wine,
a hot chilli pepper with smoky eyes.

Pressed leaves take in the colors
of seafood paella and saffron; these leaves
are like death, climaxing with a smile.

Autumn: Her dress is a net of mussels;
dark shelled, it covers up
summer’s weather-beaten body.

So pull out your boots
and stand on an aged, wood floor
like an evergreen.

Dear Gillian and Thomas Sims,

I was wondering if you would like to add the following short poem to your collection?

It was first published, Online (about.com), a few years ago.

Thank you,

Mary Hamrick
Tallahassee, Florida

Clump of pages

 
He missed a chapter in his book,
Like he missed the time before he took,
A lapse in time,
When eye lids shut;
In comfort ages,
That clump of pages.
Missing sand in seaside places,
And falling rain on sun burnt faces.
Eye lids open,
But nearly shut,
Back he turned,
In his clump of pages.
By John Fox
 
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