We continue our journey through the Fall Season. So you are asked to write a “fall” poem.. You may be asking, “Walt, haven’t we done this prompt?” But, I want you to think of things that fall or have fallen. Prices fall (maybe not lately), leaves fall, arches fall, and both Saigon and the Third Reich have had their falls. Even things that drop or are dropped end up taking a fall. Drop a few words on falling. Don’t let me down!
Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild 
DELIVERY
Mack Winters is friendly, a likable bloke
but he often is gullible, ripe for a joke.
In the telling of jokes, it is all about timing,
even more so than humor, or certainly rhyming.
For example, suppose that a pun must be told
about snowflakes and snow forts and snowballs and cold:
if you tell it in winter, there’s hardly a call for it;
if you spring it in summer, then Winters will fall for it.
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chortle 😄
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Love this clever poem, William.
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yellow leaves flutter
slowly downward toward the earth
autumn parachutes
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Great haiku, Candy. I love the idea of autumn parachuting.
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Thank you 😌
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This is just precious. The images fit the metaphor.
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Thank you kind sir 😌
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Perfect brevity…lovely image!
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Thank you 🍂
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The Last Leaves
The last few leaves to fall
From the trees land on an
Icy sheet of snow where
The wind scoots them back
And forth.
At first I thought they were birds
But birds would fly away before
They let themselves be pushed
Around like that. Perhaps it is
Not so good to be the last to leave.
Few friends are left to mourn. Like
You, they have grown crumpled and
Fragile – easy victims for any wind
That blows and so they hold on tight
Until the blizzards’ blasting winds
Rips the branches from the trees
And all are lost in the furies
Never to be seen again.
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So sad, and written beautifully.
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The pictures this draws are clear, sharp, and pointed. Wonderful.
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The middle stanza captured me…great write, Marian.
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Falling Bodies
Never mind fallen arches,
falling in love, or snow
descending to the ground.
If you are an older woman,
surely you have noticed body
parts that sag, bag or sink,
changing the fit of clothing
you once wore with pride. Not now.
Seat of jeans droops–you look
for that perky bottom you
used to have. Cannot find it,
can you? Did those same jeans
grow longer? No. You have
grown shorter. A new layer
of skin is plastered under
your eyes. Wait, it is only
an extension of lower eyelid.
You look in the mirror, wonder
if by next week, you will be able
to reach the bathroom sink
to look in the mirror.
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Oh, that last stanza really punches. Great job.
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Oh so true. 😥
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I love your opening examples of falling, Sara. 🙂
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THE ETERNAL BALLGAME
Spring training
and the early games
offer scope
for high hopes,
but when hopes fall in the fall,
they wait till next year.
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Days of Cynicism and Folly
I saw in her face
the fatigue of long waiting,
a blank gaze, a shut-in lost
in misplaced steps.
Her thoughts trampled
and stifled in the press
of traffic noise and fumes,
and she sat with her back
against all weather,
and a rattling cup with small
coins speaking on her behalf.
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This paints a poingant picture
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This creates an image worthy of Dorothea Lange. I think it’s superb.
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Thank you very much. 🙂
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THE WINGS OF AN ANGEL
With white wings
she falls from heaven.
Waiting.
Watching.
Wondering.
To whom will she be sent?
Whose
wounded warrior’s heart
waits for her?
Wisdom guides her wings,
she welcomes
a willing soul
who reaches out
for help.
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To my ears, all the “W” sounds lend a whispering air to this. Wonderful.
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Thanks, William. 🙂
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FALLING, ASLEEP
I go to bed exhausted, bleary eyed,
teary eyed before long and a strong sense
that all is lost if this lack of slumber
costs me any more grief.
The sandman is a thief in the night,
stealing the light in my eyes
and casting a pall on my wishes
for sweet dreams. It seems my affliction
is a dereliction of somnambulist seclusion.
Insomnia plays like a raucous rumba with my R.E.M.
Narcoleptic fits are every bit as annoying,
toying with my sleep patterns; a smattering of
a tense tease. WILL YOU PLEASE LET ME SLEEP!
But the Apnea sleep Nazi screams, “NO SLEEP FOR YOU!!!”
So it’s true, as I lay me down to sleep
in a heap and finally feel the heaviness greet
my eyelids. The ensuing headache breaks and
takes what small packet of napping it can.
I’m not even sure I dream anymore, or if my subconscious
mind can find the root causes for these nightly pauses.
My legs twitch, as if an unscratchable itch is festering,
pestering me to no end. And without warning, I buck
and lurch, a search for a solution. A new sensation,
I am falling while asleep; falling, asleep.
The bottom comes too soon, jolting me to a new
stage of awake with the ache that pulses around my eye.
Off the floor to rise, flipping the pillow and trying
to find an exit from this never-ending horror story.
I go back to bed exhausted, bleary eyed;
like I’ve always tried, expecting things to go differently.
In any book, that’s insane.
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Whew! Im exhausted. Here’s wishing you sweet dreams
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I liked this at first but only to acknowledge the poem – I truly don’t like it and had to unclick the “like”… I wish it weren’t so…makes my heart ache for you, my friend.
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“Apnea sleep Nazi.” So fitting. This gets me tired just reading it.
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[…] Rising – Falling Again – falling […]
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Here’s a haibun offering – thank you, for the inspiration, Walt!
https://wordrustling.wordpress.com/2015/10/07/falling-to-sketch-y-sleep/
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I think this captures so well the peculiar magic of that toy.
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