The Poetry of R.E. Slater: Nov 5, 2012

"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

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." - Lawrence Ferlinghetti

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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