13 Ways of Looking at Autumn Leaves

For Frank’s prompt at dVerse – imitating poetry. I don’t care for rhymes and rhythms so I am doing poetry ala Wallace Stevens

13 Ways of Looking at Autumn Leaves
“Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul.” ― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

l.
autumn leaves float
on the surface of the pond
dreaming of summer
2.
wind blows through the trees
rustling the leaves.
they become
an ocean of sound
3.
an owl sails through
the night sky –
the autumn leaves sleep
4.
leaves sunk to the bottom
of the pond
are the color of the eyes of deer
5.
crows in the trees
cackle and crow –
the leaves fall in silence
6.
blown by the wind
the lacy foliage of a cedar
captures an autumn leaf
7.
cold wind causes the leaves
to shiver and shake –
bitterness under a full moon
8.
leaves fall –
the branches are almost bare.soon, soon.
9.
picking up an autumn leaf
all the colors in one.
10.
under the fallen leaves
hickory nuts hide from the squirrels.
11.
leaves like fallen banners
stick to the asphalt.
12.
crows hop from bare branch
to bare branch – they enjoy the sun.
13.
the last leaf clings to the branch.
snow begins to fall –
the last leaf finally lets go.

Haiku 10062018

For Poets United Poetry Pantry and for Real Toads Tuesday Platform

Haiku: 100062018
sleepy woodland pool –
leaves drift on surface dreaming
of past summer sun

copyright Kanzen Sakura

Simple

Another poem for Brendan’s prompt on resistance also posting at Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Simple
“Maybe that’s enlightenment enough: to know that there
is no final resting place of the mind; no moment of smug clarity.
Perhaps wisdom… is realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go.” Anthony Bourdain

I am a simple person.
I am not an intellectual pulling deep meaningful quotes from people long dead.
I resist change.
I am like the creek that flows at the bottom of the hill,
clear water flowing smoothly over rounded stones, warn by the years of my progress.
Leaves float on my surface,
swirling on my soft current
until they move on or drop to the sandybottom.
I often climb a certain oak and sit there listening to world around me.
Often I sit in silence.
Sometimes I play my violin
I watch the wood creatures going about their daily lives
living life one step, one mouthful at a time.
I am like the creek that flows at the bottom of the hill.
I am a simple person.
I try to be the change.

copyright Kanzen Sakura

Autumn is Falling to Sleep

For the Friday 55. An earlier poem re-written and re-worked.

Autumn is Falling to Sleep
Autumn is fall(ing) to sleep.
The creek at the foot of the hill is not
the gurgling child it was.
Slower now
and grey around the edges.
Stones left behind from summer flooding dusty
and sad at being left behind.
The frogs have vanished –
Dragonflies withdrawn to their secret
blue cave in the sky.

copyright Kanzen Sakura

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