Loading…

Ode to Autumn

piercetheveilmont
Public 5 conversations 6 thoughts 15 upvotes 1 downvote 0 series 81 views

A portrait of an autumn afternoon. "May your grace be eternal And may the hummingbirds fly free In the yellowish sky Of this Mabon afternoon"

In groups

Post content

Ode to Autumn

The gentle, damp wind of Carpo permeates my face

Kisses my parched lips

And blows through my hair

Tangled and fluttering

The four o'clock sun, at its peak

Yellows the dry, brownish leaves on the eucalyptus trees

And embraces me

Like a home, a mother nursing my prose

I lie in the bosom of the earth,

With the misty skies watching me

Celebrating the petrichor

That takes over my sense of smell, brings me a blush

May your grace be eternal

And may the hummingbirds fly free

In the yellowish sky

Of this Mabon afternoon

Thoughts

  • just_curious_tho

    is this an actual place you go to or more of an imagined autumn? the eucalyptus and petrichor together make me wonder where carpo is.

    Permalink

Related discussions

  • It's Not Shyness. It's Control.

    Some women say fuck it. They exist in their bodies without apology. Others play that monologue for thirty years. It's not shyness. It's control they've been carrying since childhood. The question isn't why some women aren't shy. It's why almost all of them are.

  • "𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒, "

    o(〃＾▽＾〃)o 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑚

  • The secret of whispering forest

    THE secret of whispering forest Chapter 2 Now available

  • his haunting laughter

    "his laughter is deafening, I tell myself, as that melody plays over and over in my ears, almost like a cassette that simply cannot stop. Nearly tearing my ears apart with my own fingernails hasn't worked, and drowning myself in drugs hasn't helped much either. even when I walk through the quietest corner of my garden, all I can hear is his laughter, and the tears start to fall because, in my misery, I have become painfully vulnerable to the memory of what it was like to have him by my side".

  • Blind under the Dawn.

    Blind Under the Dawn. Blind by the night lights. I am alone in this vast city, searching for my "self." I can hear distant beats, but the city is abandoned; there is no one to judge my tormented soul at this moment. I wander through the nights, avoiding the sun. The city is still cold and uninhabited; I lose myself in the dawn lights, feeling blind and empty. Always searching for my dark version. Here there are no judges, only sinners. I feel like a wild beast, where I can dance, drink, and hav

  • Counted Days Don't Count Sheep

    Music doesn't define how old your soul is, but it defines the character of who you are right now.

  • Patient as a tiger.

    I am far from my goals, even though I try to achieve them. I am like a climber at the foot of Mount Everest. I need to be patient, as patient as a tiger stalking its prey. I need to be as patient as planet Earth has been for billions of years. I may fall along the way, but I will always get back up. I am like a climber at the foot of Mount Everest. I need to be as patient as planet Earth has been for billions of years. I may fall along the way, but I will always get back up. Patient as a tiger

  • The Wonders by the Open Sea

    On the high cliff, an old rock house, its windows open to the sea — and on the shaky bridge, a young man, eyes clear as the ones upon the cross. His smile brought a thousand lights; his eyes struck the deepest insight. Years passed, yet in the sleepless nights that smile stayed, unbidden. When those eyes pierced inside mine, only a small sigh was left — the one thing a heart could feel. Nothing has changed by the open sea, only my heart twitches for those clear eyes, wishing someday they glance