"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray

"Poetry unites." ~Anon

"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson


Written by David King
He lives in Surrey, United Kingdom
His blog: Pics and Poems

Autumn Leaves

Like autumn leaves
we change our colours when we die.
That's all we ever were:
a change of colour on a canvas ground,
one small fleck of difference
on an otherwise flat field
in a desert of indifference.
Here death is the death of all
dissimilarity,the smudge of detail,
the erosion of the figure by the ground.
Death is the perfect decorator,
a broad-brushed artisan
for whom the wall assumes
a perfect matt, flat hue.

Originally published on writer's personal blog.
Posted with consent of the writer.

4 Comments:

  1. CLAY said...
    "a change of colour on a canvas ground,
    one small fleck of difference
    on an otherwise flat field
    in a desert of indifference." Only Mr. King. Truly masterful. May our blood be our crimson hue, and our tears and sweat serve as a lacquer for this canvas. Alas, my last act of poetics before I collapse from sleepiness.

    -a very tired Clayrn Darrow.
    Anonymous said...
    what beautiful imagery and use of metaphors to describe the finality of death. but it inspires one to live a rich, colorful life! to create a beautiful canvas before we die.

    carol
    WHY said...
    Yes!!! "one small fleck of difference." That's what makes us all special and precious, isn't it?

    Great poetry;great meaning!!
    K.Lawson Gilbert said...
    This poem is beautifully metaphoric. I love the juxtaposition between autumn leaves and art references - both symbolizing death. Many fresh and solid allusions.

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