0018 Man Raking Leaves (Re Jim Morrison Lyric) Poem by Michael Shepherd
0018 Man Raking Leaves (Re Jim Morrison Lyric)
The sound of wooden rake scratching concrete.
walk nearer - rustle of dry leaves.
This, the beginning of a Japanese haiku
or maybe a Japanese film -
dry sound first, then rake, then leaves, then man -
that evokes autumn
too near the heart
to need a title
the sound stops. silence. man leans on rake.
then match strikes, there's almost yes an echo
from the dry leaves not yet fallen from the trees
in the forest all around.
then the first tickle in the nostrils
of burning leaves which
the two-year old scrunching through the trees
hand in hand with older sister
will remember all his life
like the silence between
two lines of a haiku or
the silence of the moment when the seasons turn.
and who can say
what the golden-orange-yellow-brown trees
slowly stripping in a rustle as of silken nightgown
to the tune of, more a whisper than a breeze -
what the trees feel
as the incense of their, their, burning leaves
steals like a last caress
for each such faithful
lover?
(This is a reworking of the Jim Morrison lyric, as discussed in the Forum) MS
Excellent treatment, Michael. Ever thought of fronting your own rock band? The only thing I would do differently is somehow condense it into something shorter, but I'm hard-pressed to point to any line(s) I would remove. Regards.
I can't believe there were others that were impressed, like I was, by that poem by JD Morrison... Nice fleshing out of another of Jim's underdeveloped vignettes.
Whoops - it's not Kurt Weill's, which is 'September Song', but Kosma/Prevert.
Yes, Ghada, our best seasons are 'between' - Spring (which I guess you have on fast-forward?) and autumn, when the air temperature slowly goes down over many weeks, the sun shines sometimes even more clearly, and the leaves turn colour and fall one by one. And poets get all nostalgic, while children's stomachs turn at the thought of a new class, a new school...The classic song is Kurt Weill's 'Les feuilles mortes se ramasse a la pelle...' - and the lovers part as leaves fall slowly, and memories fade as their footsteps in the sand... now do you get the picture? !
In Egypt we do not have an autmn.We go from hot humid green summer straight to dry bare trees winter! You gave me the autmn we so miss here - I can see it and hear it. Didn't see or hear autmn in Jim Morrison. Have to go listen to it again and have to join the Forum. You are always teaching me Michael. Thanks. Ghada
How did Miss Adelaide get into Beckett? Oh well, whatever fills your theatre of the mind...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 6:02:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
reads more like the basis of a Beckett one act play, performed with only chair and a woman covered in candyfloss who is partial to intermittent sneezing fits...of course, I could be wrong...good play.