Autumn

This autumn is copper, just like my voice which had escaped and hided in a dome on the banks of a sacred river. I am the one who dried it up on the braids of an African girl tanned by last summer, stored it in two baskets of sultanas and dried fig berries, to be honeyed tales sweetening promised cold griefs. I don’t remember its flavor, but I used to witness its husky rustle scattering from the eyes of almond trees and alms of my neighbors vine-plant, then sleeping into the wrinkles of earth and old folks. I do remember its waters, flying like silk bubbles, while fleeing from woods reposing on roofs. This is our autumn; its foliage a velvet song, its voice the color of ginger, its clouds a swinging cradle. Every time it blows into my hair, I become the last grain of wheat, riding on the back of the last ant, digging earth and strewing a train of golden camels.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Fareed K. Ghanem

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
I am 58 years old, from eastern Galilee, Israel (Palestine). I studied English literature, psychology and Law at the Hebrew university (Jerusalem). In the last three years, I published three books of which is dedicated to prose poetry. You are invited to visit the Facebook page Shadows of Water, where I publish my prose poems I translate to English.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Autumn!

Autumn! sonnet poems

Those leaves weren’t few that shed away But down alive, not much could stay Few were tramped, few had dried It isn’t, that they never tried Few were blown, few were crushed At nights they lived, as roads were hushed

Autumn Of Life

Autumn Of Life short poem

Autumn is one of the four seasons of all Here, the leaves of the trees do fall. Night spreads it’s darkness prematurely And cold ascends with it cavalierly. Nothing’s different in the autumn of life Where the wrinkled cheeks and

Autumn’s Red Hair

Autumns Red Hair short poem

My name has been written in a piece of letter, waiting for me to come for a warm conversation. I was lost… I was swimming into the imagination of the melancholy. Leaves were embraced in the street. It was autumn.

End Of This Autumn

End Of This Autumn short poem

At the END OF THIS AUTUMN, I am standing Under a barren tree, bleak and exposed TO weather with shedding leaves, There rests a house away from the barn, Decorated with vivid colours of rainbow And maintained by careful hearts

Autumn.

Autumn. short poem

Halycon days in perennial Eden Windblown leaves, sunbeam kissed Slumbering Oaks in the autumn sun Sprinkling their leaves one by one As they fall like golden snow Cooler breezes begin to blow And soon the Oaks denuded stand Like skeletons