September prose poem

Photo by pedrosimoes7

September is a city of copper;
It is the shape of ashes in the tale of the fire-bird.
September is a waiting-hall between the bareness of ends and the beginnings of fig berries.
So, my beloved substitutes her hair, to take a shower; primitive waters come out from earth’s pores and assemble in a leady sky.
Very soon, trees will wear their dusts, and hang their clothes on ropes of rain

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 3.50 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

Come September And Sweet Heart

Come September And Sweet Heart long poem

Why don’t you remember? Remember again, Music of September, I still retain. We met in the greenery, A wet, lovely scenery, A teen age romance, The music and dance. Why don’t you remember? Remember again, Magic of September, Your shyness,