Autumn Leaves

we rake them into pyramid pyres,
our satisfaction glowing like the flame
with which we light them.

we watch them smolder and consume,
and flirt with summer's memory,
whose ghost arises from the charred remains.

but on the leaf-cleared ground next day,
we stand unsure of our suburban ritual,
our sense of order questioned

by the pungent smell of conscience
lingering in the air
long after the cremation

we now illogically regret and mourn.

by Philippa Lane

Other poems of LANE (45)

Comments (9)

The leaves detached from a tree in the autumn have been beautifully alluded to explain the intricacies of life. I would like to quote the following lines: by the pungent smell of conscience / lingering in the air / long after the cremation.
I think we tap into deepr, hidden memories sometimes and feel unease at our sanitised, urban, mechanised lives and obsession with orderliness. I feel this is what you are alluding to here? Perhaps we should have let nature feed the leaves back into the ground.
'we now illogically regret and mourn...' An action in post mortem so described as 'illogical'..can be a dream or a nightmare for the poet..depending on her focus..of attention. Pensive...an experience retold? ? Cheers. Subroto
My 10 for this amazing composition.
this poem is so beautiful... i love it... keep writing, thanks Athena *** words will change the world ***
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