Those plows, the gallant geese who leave us
paled in last anemic summer’s claws; while withered
flowers stand as sentinels to our anamnesis while we
might comprehend how fall means falling further until
stilled to silence, not stirred into sentiments of loss as we
have blended past with the present, while future is just the
time that’s stretched to count the coins we’ve kept
to pay the ferryman before the venom sap of winter’s
fruit has seeped through veins to halt our hearts.
Today we write nine lines poem for September with Laura at DVerse, either as word acrostic as I did or a nonet.
September 15, 2020
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Venom sap of winter – that is an amazing line Bjorn. Feeling the autumn’s falling mood in your verses.
Lovely Bjorn but not quite the prompt –
NONET – a nine line poem that begins with 9 syllables, descending line by line to 1 syllable.Selecting one of these as your starter line:
It seems as though you are still summer (cite Merwin)
Broken shadows across the cracked ground (cite Merwin)
The earthed lightning of a flock of swans (cite Heaney)
One side is wild with foam and glitter (cite Heaney)
I thought I did the first prompt… I can remove it if you want.
remove my cmment I miread that you had chosen a Nonet!! And my computer is playimg up as text keeps disappearing as I read and write
No problem… 🙂
I love the image of the ‘gallant geese who leave us / paled in last anaemic summer’s claws’, and the thought that we might ‘comprehend how fall means falling further until / stilled to silence’.
Such an atmospheric piece, Bjorn. Nostalgic and bittersweet. I also like, “the venom sap of winter.” The line that jumps out for me is this one:
“future is just the
time that’s stretched to count the coins we’ve kept
to pay the ferryman”
Just so 😦
while we
might comprehend how fall means falling further until
stilled to silence,
Love that, Bjorn!
I’m always awe-struck at the assortment of imagery you create. It’s genius like this line:
“paled in last anemic summer’s claws…”
Your writing style is magical in what it depicts, using dark imagery to convey its tone of grief. What a beautiful and enthralling piece for the prompt. I’m beyond stunned by the gravity of it.
[And now for my 2nd attempt to read and understand without loss of text or understanding!!]
Your nine liner poem is nothing short of beautiful –
“the gallant geese who leave us
paled in last anemic summer’s claws;”
(they come our way so am pleased about that!)
the rhythm is fast and full without stopping – and a joy to read over and over
You and I picked the same words to work with in prompt one. I love what you did with them. You had me at “while withered flowers stand as sentinels to our anamnesis…”
So many layers of imagery in this! Delightful! Thank you! 🙂
the imagery is dark and dying … feel the winter pressing forward
Awesome work indeed. This just totally blows me away. What a beat. Yowza.
This: “Those plows, the gallant geese who leave us
paled in last anemic summer’s claws” brought a vivid image to mind, their flight a sure sign of summer’s end.
Wow, you have captured the mood of fall slipping into the land of dying. That is how I am feeling as summer slips away.
Lovely imagery – and the disrupting and undercutting of it down through the poem – so the verse is both melancholy, gothic and grieving and all for a bunch of tulips. Time to fruit indeed.
I really like your great images in this poem…
last anemic summer’s claws,,,, Sap of winter’s fruit doing is in!!
Well done!
Fall is all rot and dying yet there’s something tragically beautiful about it…
The fourth line really hit home with me for some reason. Beautiful thought.
This is DARK!
I love “anemic summer’s claws”, and “time stretched to count the coins we’ve kept.”
In death … your flowers are lovely.
The finality of this is dark and absolute Bjon — strong, very!
time that’s stretched to count the coins we’ve kept
to pay the ferryman
Love that image.
“to pay the ferryman before the venom sap of winter’s”
Love that line!
This is really wonderful Bjorn. I like the comparison of seasons to lives, and like most everyone, the image of the ferryman denoting the winter death.