Metropolitan Homesick Blues

Southampton Stories & Other Stuff

Poetry Page Three

with 5 comments


On crisp September sunrise mornings mist floats from farm fields

as grey-decaying, falling down barns stand stoically against the ages.

Ambling slowly from pasture to fence-edge

cattle play follow-the-leader,

their breath hanging in the cold morning air.

Backpack-laden, school-bus-waiting children

at end-of-driveway-shelters stand self-absorbed

in their own private world.

All along dew-drenched, empty county roads

once summer green corn fields have turned to autumn gold, their harvest taken,

their stalks ploughed into clods of brown earth

providing an unseen harvest for gulls and geese.

In September the sun shifts its path in the evening sky.

At infinity’s edge, where the water meets the horizon lake sunsets come earlier.

Wind ripples the surface of the fast running river

as salmon push their way in from the lake

towards the daunting dam.

Along the empty, wet-sand shore, waves wander in

with the wind to ruffle rocks at beach-edge

sending them clattering and clacking,

stone over stone smoothing and shining one another.

Summer has slipped into autumn.

Now northwest winds strip the colour from tired trees.

The serenity of September settles on Southampton

And Southampton sleeps.

I live within the borders of shifting seasons.

It is the gift of time.

I take it with gratitude and humility knowing it is given without debt.

Written by metropolitanhomesickblues

October 7, 2011 at 6:32 PM

5 Responses

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  1. Nice tribute to the season, Ed. I don’t believe I noticed even ‘one’ metaphor. Straight- really – down to earth. But then impersonal. Metaphor is perhaps necessary to portray feeling. In any case, for the last few days I have been reading the poems of Tomas Transtromer, who has just won the Nobel Prize. A Swedish poet. Perhaps you might be interested in his technique. All the best. Loreen.


    October 8, 2011 at 8:15 AM

    • Thanks Loreen
      But I don’t believe that ‘metaphor’ is always necessary to express anything. Words, if used properly, can summon an emotional feeling or create a mood or paint a picture.


      October 8, 2011 at 9:19 AM

      • Just making my own observations, Ed; attempting to understand different techniques. Glad I checked in here. I’m always hopeful of a dialogue. But I think of Frost’s poems about the wall, and the road not taken. To me, each of these poems is one expansive metaphor that states it’s ‘case’ only indirectly. I’m attempting to see the difference between perception, and imagination; description, and images. There are subtle differences here at times between poems and poets, and I’m merely attempting to discern those differences. Good poem.


        October 8, 2011 at 4:40 PM

      • I also thought I should return just in case there has been a misunderstanding. I have already told you how excellent I think your poetry is, Ed. I have been amazed at the effects that you get without the use of metaphor. This in itself is an inspiration. It’s just all those years of reading philosophy kicking in. I have just been trained to make distinctions, draw limitations, etc. etc. When I used the word ‘impersonal’ for instance this was not an evaluative, judgmental, normative statement. It was meant to be, like your poetry, descriptive. I am trying to understand whether the use of metaphor is indeed truly necessary to convey the personal, that is the indepth emotional or imaginative elements of consciousness. There is a difference between ‘summoning’ an emotional feeling as you said, and ‘portraying a feeling’. Your remarks about humility convey to me your stance, for instance, but they do not make me feel any sense of humility in the reading of them. But to make that distinction, and others like it is what my ‘critique’ was hoping to achieve. As I said, it was ‘merely my point of view’. But as for your poetry, I still believe it is exceptional. All the best.


        October 9, 2011 at 3:02 PM

  2. Your words form very clear, tranquil pictures in my mind. I can hear the wind and waves ruffle rocks, that’s my favorite line! Marty


    October 8, 2011 at 11:46 PM

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