torn by autumn
up against the wall,
and the fall is long.
across the street
trees dance in glory
and radiant romance.
his feet are frozen,
rooted and bare,
layered in mud.
can’t go back,
unable to proceed.
seeds become sterile.
painted by the season
his September face
is a wasted mask.
poem and photo by clinock. image by unknown poster artist.
art rat cafe 
Like a tree this poem stands beautifully in the wood of poems 🙂
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ps I only now saw the face (the mask) in the painting! Wonderful!
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surprise, surprise…!
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Lovely words Ina, thank you…
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Well painted by the season John
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thanks Robert but it’s not my image – see bottom of post…
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At first I was going to quote …up against the wall, and the fall is long. and respond with ‘Nice wordplay. Feels very noirish, those lines…contrasting with the joys of vibrant autumn!’ Then I realized …no. wait. this isn’t one noirish moment….it’s all crisis except for one stanza. So now I wonder, is ‘he’ a tree or a person at a place or stage in his life?
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perceptive and right on target Steven – he’s not a tree but his true nature is masked by their autumn beauty…
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Very nice!
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Thanks Hansi…
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He may be a “wasted mask” but he is captured forever in your words.
What a poem, John!
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Thank you very much Marina…
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and the fall is long.
Apparently so as they’re still blaming contemporary people for Adam’s Fall. I have alibi – was visiting family in Brooklyn that day.
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A likely story Carl 😉
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