am·a·teur
\ˈa-mə-(ˌ)tər, -ˌtu̇r, -ˌtyu̇r, -ˌchu̇r, -chər\ n. often attrib

[F, from L amator lover, fr. amare to love]

Sunday, November 30, 2014

November 2014 Poem-A-Day Chapbook Challenge: Day 30






As sure as night will fall and slowly blend
In with the dawning day, as sure as fall
Will lay her weapons down and cease to fend
Off winter, and the foes embrace, and all
The seasons come to pass, each in its turn
As sure as hungry hearts will ever yearn

If only for a glimpse of that July
That used to burn within them, that they failed
To keep, as sure as from the truths we try
To grasp, but one old truth will have prevailed
When all the days of ours are through and gone
As sure as life will end, love will go on.




Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. "Happy")

prompted by Poetic Asides

Saturday, November 29, 2014

November 2014 Poem-A-Day Chapbook Challenge: Day 29







Hold on to autumn, to this fragile ray
The sun has reached you with, it will not last
This free fall of November, time won’t stay
Suspended what’s to come and what has passed
Between, so hold them close, these final hours
Still clinging to the calendar, for ours

Are those short-lived bright moments that we touch
Without a hope of keeping them, they fleet
And yet remain, and reappear with such
Stark clarity, it sweeps us off our feet
When in the midst of winter’s endless plain
We glimpse our autumn, falling once again.




Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. "Happy")

prompted by Poetic Asides

Friday, November 28, 2014

November 2014 Poem-A-Day Chapbook Challenge: Day 28








It comes as news, although you do expect
It will arrive one day, some distant hour
Way, way too soon it shows up to collect
The things we owned, or thought we did, to our
Most genuine bewilderment… our eyes
We can’t believe, we didn’t recognize

The signs that all were there, albeit concealed
Of seasons melting into seasons, fall
Is drawing to a close, her fate is sealed
And chilling mirrors prove you can not stall
The hands of that unyielding giant clock
But then you find that stealthy cruel tick-tock

Has a nice rhythm to it, and your heart
In unison with it starts ticking, and
The seasons past and current play their part
And what is bound to happen, near-at-hand
Chimes in, and time slows down as you embrace
The crow’s-feet on the fair-skinned winter’s face.





Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. "Happy")

prompted by Poetic Asides