"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art.
Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so
great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour
is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Monday, November 5, 2012

R.E. Slater - Autumn Memories (a collection of Haiku-like poems)




Autumn Memories
by R.E. Slater


Green leaves fell hard
One sunny frosted morning
When all was death and quiet.

* * *

A large leafed tree stood proud
Late in the rising autumn sun
Then quickly became undressed.

* * *

The morning quiet was loud
But not as loud as nearby tree
Exploding leaves into the ground.

* * *

By the hundreds the leaves fell
Without air to hold them up
Falling noisily to the ground below.

* * *

One frosted, chilly morning
I stood breathless to watch
The sudden death of autumn.

* * *

When all was peace and wonder
I laid me down in leafy bed
Resting in pillowed content.

* * *

Dead leaves crunched under my step
The woodland did not stop nor care
Nor did I – filled with its brilliance.

* * *

Hunters once were here
And now were gone
And life spread round-and-round.

* * *

Youth was once all I had -
Before the wonders of fall
The improbable beauty of winter.

* * *

Hickory nuts rested in a battered pail
Freshly picked from the cold ground
While grandma chattered in delight.

* * *

Dark shadows crossed the hillocks
Dimming autumn’s lingering lights
Orange moonrise brought all back.

* * *

My chilly breath like a chimney stack
Lifted and rose into the autumn airs
On friendship’s many dappled wings.

* * *

The red tractor’s large black tires
Were muddy and packed tight –
Dad did not care and went to bed.

* * *

We left in early morning’s cold darks
Carrying heavy guns in small hands
Watching wet dogs sniff and run.

* * *

The cotton band uniform held the cold
Wet winter rain pressed against my skin
Brightly stepping to drums and bugles!

* * *

Autumn sunrise met autumn sunset
Orangish yellows blazed dusky reds
Not one day ended as it began.

* * *

Autumn days warm the soul
Autumn evenings clear the head
Decay and rot sweetly fill the air.

* * *

The clasp of cold autumn air
Pulls at my jacket’s warm collar
Lifts my face to its breath.


- R.E. Slater
November 5 & 19, 2012;
March 3, 2014


@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved







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