Fall is here!!! Wrote a poem 'bout it, here it goes!

Do a dance, Do a dance!!!!

So y'all know I had to post on the first day of fall (autumn for you snooty people, ha!). It is my favorite season of the entire year! The colors are gorgeous, the weather is gorgeous, and I get to cover my stained, holy tees with my snazzy jackets so I'm gorgeous!!

I always try to do something special to celebrate this day, (usually involves me, my close friends, Pretty Woman on VHS, and Mr. Zinfindel) so this year I decided to do something I have never done before. (Now don't you get excited; I am not the daring and adventurous type. Think small town country girl exciting that doesn't involve farm equipment or hay, HA!) ....... I forced myself to write an edited poem. (I warned you it was lameness on a stick, huh?)

The big deal about that is that I have never sat down to write anything recreationally. It always just comes to me (not like "spooky" "hoodoo"comes to me either) and I write them start to finish with no editing without even really knowing what I wrote until much much later. (When I actually have time to fracking read it) My brother has renewed my desire for poetry by showing me some of the cool stuff he has written over the years. (I know! There are two people where I live that are scholarly. Y'all non-rednecks better watch out; I dare say that I'm about to shatter a stereotype all over ya!) It is also really nice that there is finally someone in my inner circle that can actively discuss poetry. (You rock, bro! -in surfer voice- Dad gum good poet too!)

Okay, I'm babbling....Onward to the poem (let's see how this methodology worked; let's hope it ain't crap)

Rhythmic Autumn Hue

I slowly draw in deeply my breath,
Channeling the energy laid out before me,
Its warmth is ever intoxicating,
Allowing me a slice of the eternal joy.

I carefully open my heavy laden lids,
Scene grande, vast, before me bursting full of all
Colors, sounds, textures, of life,
It brings forth inspiration by divine call.

My heart begins to flutter overwhelmed,
Lifelong personal questions come out in bright,
The ones who tug constantly without rest,
In this grande Portrait the answers are in sight.

A cool breeze then plays at my features,
Welcome after the long liv'ed phase's heat,
The world is again turning its wheel,
Ever tuning its life into the new found beat.

The green, luscious sea will vanish soon as well,
The perfume gifted by these colors will die,
All these magical elements born in view,
Will wither under my heavy lidded eye.

Through the deadly withers the energy stays,
Its light will cast a different decadent hue,
As it slowly begins the painting of new notes,
Ever waiting to showcase its Portrait beat new.

To have us meekly come, as now am I,
As I revel in this now buzzing, chirping, green,
To return in time to this very high ledge,
And gaze down to take in the beauty to be seen.

The new rhythm will crunch, sway, and hoot,
The bright, green paints will be then covered with reds bold,
The trees will be gifted with rich gold jewels,
So before death their greatest beauty we can behold.

But the world again calls me back down,
Away from this grande, breathtaking magical scene,
Back to exhaust, rings, beeps, and pavement grey,
From the most colorful, inspiring place I've been,
Back to the dictating words of the narrow,
I'll soon return to break from that world's cold routine.

----> September 22, 2008


The only thing this has in common with any of my other works is that it is rhythmic. (I can't do non-prose without a back beat; the musician in me won't allow it.) Who da thunk! This pretty stuff came outta me, ha! No death, war, angst, or political statements. I didn't know it was possible. I'm gonna go buy a frackin' lottery ticket, shoot.

Oh well, time will tell if it is good. (I will be running to everyone to ask opinions)

Writing poetry without peaches,
Jenn Jenn