‘In Honour Of Summer’ – Poetry Sneak Peek (Autumn, That Bastard)

In Honour of Summer, the 10th poem of the ‘Autumn, That Bastard’ poetry collection, will be out Saturday this week!

Next week I find out if I have made it into the Write It Fellowship! I also have an article coming up for the Writing Community Newsletter!

Stay tuned for more!

When Winter Is Expected – What the Heck am I Rambling about? #5

“When Winter is Expected” is the poem where it all (conceptually speaking) began for the ‘Autumn, That Bastard‘ collection. I wrote this poem after my dog, Lilly, passed away. The poem is a reflection of both her and myself in the Autumn that is ageing and time.

You can check out ‘When Winter is Expected‘ here.

There is one or two characters in this poem, depending how you look at it. These two characters are, symbiotic. The only defining character trait of both that unite then is their genders being the same. This is a reference to both me and Lily being young and old, both of us being both of these things at once. I intentionally confuse the audience with who the girl is and who the other woman is. Although it does not make for crisp reading, its a way for met to express the discrepancy of ageing and how confronting it is in this situation.

Her eyes are washed with cerulean;
Of the stream and the moss afloat,
Of hybrids of delphinium, iris and hydrangeas,
Of afore her eyes, the girl’s yellow dress and the sky above.

Stanza 2

The river’s are another reference to our lives being on the same trajectory and slowly branching off and running away from the girls sprint ahead. ‘No false mower’ is a reference to not denying her favourite activity, which was to go on walks and be ahead of me (which is the girl is a head of the lady).

At every glance from the girl, she can’t help but turn aside.

Stanza 3

The tagline for the whole ‘Autumn, That Bastard’ collection comes from here. “Savour the warmth for winter is expected to come.” Savouring the warmth refers to keeping up the good times with her in her final weeks and preparing for the winter of grief that would come after. Again, this is applicable for both me and for her.

Run into the sun that sets, swallow the light.
Savour the warmth, for winter is expected to come.

Stanza 7

Thank you for checking out this little discussion on my poetry!

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Check out other poems from the ‘Autumn, That Bastard’ poetry collection.

When Winter is Expected (Poem)

By Christos Floratos

Website Version Here

By the rocking chair,

Birds and wrinkles have brought her.

By the river,

Lilies grow and summer shimmers on top.

 

Her eyes are washed with cerulean;

Of the stream and the moss afloat,

Of hybrids of delphinium, iris and hydrangeas,

Of afore her eyes, the girl’s yellow dress and the sky above.

 

The girl runs through the grassy field ahead.

Unchained she is a madman. The poor insect she tramples.

Yet in excitement she goes and goes, and doesn’t stop, oh no.

Where does the horizon end she ponders?

 

Her smile turns to ploughshares; the girl runs off.

At every glance from the girl, she can’t help but turn aside.

She has a bouquet prepared for the girl, with a card

 “Go and go, before the horizon is met!”

 

Adjacent the girl, was the river.

Her feet drifted to the side, parallels were an expectation.

She got lost in the grass, high as her. 

No false mower to cut her down, a maze she’ll burn.

 

When her feet are oiled again,

And her gears tune in motion,

Perhaps she will follow the girl

And maybe the flowers won’t rot in her hands.

 

Up, up, titanic like the Southern Cross.

The girl is fading into the grass, skipping to the rhythm of her soles.

A smile is broken for her, vaguely.

Run into the sun that sets, swallow the light.

Savour the warmth, for winter is expected to come.

 

To that horizon where she presumes the girl wondered,

She places the bundle, arranged full of bulbous colours.

The rivers ran off, cowering from this line.

She lets the weeds catch her, so she can watch.

There as it dried out, she stares just to watch the flowers die.

 

© Christos Floratos 2019