17 Comments

The canal curves with a wave of good bye to summer, but a hello to seasons change. Yes , a different song that wells up from the morning bed to write new sheets of music, ripples settle down at the edge of day.

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If you has said, in the last line, instead of 'farewell', 'lights-out', say, the quatrina would have been perfect.

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I mean formally of course.

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That’s right, I forgot the light!

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I like that, John — will consider.

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Congratulations for being named tops in the poetry section of Tops in Fiction, Week 11. 🍂👏👏🍂

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Thanks, Paul 🙏

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Beautifull , just beautiful. You almost make me wish Summer would change her mind.

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Thank you, Bliss

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A siren song leading into a swan one.

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nice, yes, thanks Stan

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Nice!

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Thanks, Aaron

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William Blake wrote a song to America

Even with illustrations

About Red Orc

And I think some

Beautiful woman

And all those things mysterious

Lonesome farewell to summer

He even quotes Washington

Then as now

A forbidden figure

Jonathan you say your poem

Beautifully

Slightly differently

Than it reads on substack

the last couple of lines

For a hundred years

No one guessed

Despite the name of his poem

That William Blake loved the American Revolution

They thought he was talking about

Who-knows-what

America is the world's summer secret

Suddenly last summer

July 4th

They say truth will out

And green shoots will replace

Petals in fall where flowers stood

Is a hundred years too long for truth?

And there were others

As the surgeon officer said in the movie JFK

Upon the autopsy

All the figures there

High state officials

later absent

In condensed narratives

And so many versions

Of autopsy x-rays

But that is a minor slight

Compared to Newton

Who censored Leibniz

For a thousand years

Whatever

California Valley Girl

And everyone

Except NASA

And their Kepler telescope

or something

Forgets the pure scientist

Named Kepler

Who helped discover America

With his astrological reading of the stars

Where will winter preserve the green

Shoots of spring

Where Kepler and his witch mother

Flew to the moon

In the world's first science fiction story

And he even talks about G-forces

Upon landing

Oh sure I know about Newton

For every reaction

As tho Aristotle didn't figure that out

And so as a poet

I despair

When summer leaves us

I despair

When I hear leaves rustle

For they are soon to fall

Brilliant reds of North America

So many leaves

So many leaves

I never knew the tree

Had in her

I cannot trust fall

And even less winter

That they will really

Return me to spring

And my mother

Father guarding by

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Wow, thanks David -- chock full as usual and marvelous. I'm sure you've heard Bob Dylan's "Murder Most Foul" eh

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Fk no I haven't I miss a lot in my life. I will look it up. And as revenge for you locking me out of your Chat poem I have dedicated a poem to you. at least with your stop watch you can tell you are an Inspiration!!

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