Sunday, November 1, 2009

Sunday Poetry Post

Waving goodbye to October and leaves & getting ready for November.

Click for larger

November Day
    Eleanor Averitt

Old haggard wind has
plucked the trees
like pheasants, held
between her knees.
In rows she hangs them,
bare and neat,
their brilliant plumage at
her feet.


  1. Great Post, Jim.

    Dia de los Muertos today.
    Beautiful day yesterday and another expected today.
    No trick or treaters but did go to a party.


    Happy football for Beth.

    Maria, I was successful. I braved Walmart and was rewarded with finding and buying your new book. All three were there. Boy, is it exciting to see someone I know on the racks.

    Relaxing Sunday to all.
    We fell back in time yesterday so get that extra hour.

  2. Ditto on the post - love the pic and the poem!

    November already? Guess I should start thinking about Christmas presents...not to mention what I'm going to do for Thanksgiving. Eh, no rush. :-)

    Quiet day today. Cleaning house and watching football (go Broncos). Friends from St Augustine arrive tomorrow for a couple of days, and I can't wait. And then Key West on Wednesday - I might never come back.

    Enjoy the extra hour, everyone! I read the clock wrong, even knowing it was an hour off, so am up way too early after watching baseball til almost 1am. Maybe I'll snooze for another hour...

    Happy November!

  3. Nice use of shadows!

    I bring you a draft. I wanted to have it done by today, but a late October timesuck storm made that plan gang aft a-gley.

    The Buzzard

    He stands on a fence post, wings outstretched,
    a bizarre avian sun-cult ritual.
    And yet, his morning worship is distracted.
    He looks over his shoulder.

    In the road, the remains
    of some hapless woodland creature,
    no longer recognizable.
    Here the buzzard's breakfast awaits.

    Neither young nor old, this bird of ill-omen,
    A white spot on one wing
    Suggests a patch on a beggar's cloak.
    But the buzzard knows:

    The finest plumage
    is of no use when you scavenge for a living.
    The dirty jobs
    require a different set of clothes.

    Traffic continues to pass, some east, some west,
    but the buzzard waits.
    Patience is both virtue and survival,
    He has all morning.

    This breakfast is his.
    Neither young nor old buzzard will challenge
    for this small morsel.
    The traffic also keeps the crows away.

    True, the flies are already gathering,
    but they won't eat much.
    Besides, if they are slow or insistent,
    They'll be a side dish.

    At last the traffic clears.
    A lazy flap carries the buzzard to his meal.
    He drags it off the road,
    offers rough grace to his sun-god, then dines.

  4. Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit to welcome in the new month!!

    Lisa, woohoo!! Thanks for braving WallyWorld. :)

    Sort of enjoying the extra hour today. Yesterday I went to take a nap at around 4, woke up at 10, then fell back asleep until 7 a.m. Realized that the new furniture layout was still stressing me, so I got up and moved it back around to where I wanted it. ::g::

    FarF - GORGEOUS poem!! Love the last line.

    My offering today to the muertos is not mine, but that of the Bard:

    ’Tis now the very witching time of night,
    When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
    Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood
    And do such bitter business as the day
    Would quake to look on.
    --Hamlet, by William Shakespeare

    Have a brilliant day, all!

  5. Clever theme, Jim, and the result has fabulous lines and contrast.

    Thanks to all for yesterday's good wishes, I had a great night and I hope everyone else did too. :)

    Great pix, Lisa. And really great verse, Farf! I love darker poetry and "knows/clothes" offered a deliciously unexpected rhyme.

  6. Love the poem Jim. Great combination metaphor and simile. The wind as old lady. The trees like pheasants.

    And love YOUR poem FarF. I'll never look at buzzards the same way now.

  7. Glad people are enjoying Eleanor Averitt's poem. It is one of my favorites to use teaching simile, metaphor, imagery, and personification. A lot of kids use it in their anthologies.

    Farf, could I use your poem in my class? I love showing kids that poetry can be about anything. Given the number of hours I spend hanging over the handlebars in the summer, it probably won't come as a surprise to you that buzzards are my frequent cycling companions. I've only seen a couple ever drag their meal off the road. Most of them try to shield it with their wings as I approach, and when I get too close, they flap off in a low, slow circle landing back on it within a few seconds after I've passed.

    It's bright and sunny here today, but the winds and rain of the past week have made Nov. 1 look like the trees in the poem. Andi and I have months of gray and brown ahead. I hope we get some white mixed in this winter, but not too much.

  8. Certainly, Jim! And thanks all y'all for saying nice things about it. I've seen buzzards drag their meals off the "plate" on several occasions, and step up the pace when they see a car coming. :-) Mary, buzzards are fascinating creatures, and of course a valued employee in Mother Nature's Janitorial Service.

    It's been bright & sunny here today as well… in fact, the first day of November has been more pleasant than much of October was. Now if I could get a little time to rest and reflect, then pound out some more writing, I'd be set!

  9. So much truth and symbolism is spoken here today. I hate to break the spell by speaking my own inane thoughts. So, I will leave, hoping you know I understand and enjoy...