- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Death in October
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A huddle of dying wasps
caught by an unexpected frost,
blanket the front porch.
Decaying leaves float like sacrificed dreams
on the murky water of our pool.
Their skeletal remains drift
aimlessly in the sharp October air.
A bitter chill bites deeply,
driving the dying traces of summer underground.
Soporific cold turns blood to ice.
This dormant world is locked in a frigid vice
as winters beckons with her glacial glove.
- COMMENTS
unpredictablebijouover 15 years agoThis is an excellent piece, truly. I rarely offer specific word critique but this one is so close to perfect that I couldn't help but notice that "soporific" might not fit as well as something more vivid. Just my personal two scents. In general though, this is just great.
LeBrozover 15 years agoThis poem has been selected for listing in Wednesday's New Poems Review.<br>
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WickedEveover 15 years agoI really like the poem, but while I'm reading it, I keep thinking I'd like to see the second line omitted and the title changed to Unexpected Frost.
