Summer's Last Stand.

Everton Brome

A rocky patch that had no claim

To be beach, or shore, or land

But yet did witness all the same

Nature’s tricks and her sleight of hand

 

It, a victim of frosted nights

A crumpled face of weakened ground

Was a spectator of sheer delights

Where the Tamar fills the Sound

 

Here, it heard of things up river

Children playing, having fun

The summer’s whispers that joy delivered,

Now fell silent in the autumn’s sun.

 

The devil himself came to see.

Where his burning hoofs tarnish the sand.

Rocks fell when a smile he released

Admiration for Summer’s last stand.

 

A man-of-war did pass this way

Grey, silent and with a serious intent

To retrieve those stolen warmer days

Owed to Plymouth and were heaven sent.

 

Autumn is the magical place the earth must go

When the silent bells of the equinox toll

To rest, replenish whilst the winter winds blow

Taking dues for warmer days; taxing our happy souls.

 

It’s a moment of maturity verging on decline

Where vivid colours anticipate the last

Chlorophyll’s final attempt to hold the line

Against a relentless enemy driving pass

 

The last warm winds blew with a cause,

Like on a predetermined plan

To move the warmth along because

It was requested in a distant land.

 

Red flavoured berries and some a yellow taste

Offering pleasure to your thirsty soul

Inviting you to try one before the winter haste

And their beauty relinquished to the nipping cold.

 

Orange shrubs mimic the sky

To repel the changes and take a stance

To stand against the cold and defy

Its forward motions, its deathly dance.

 

The leaves on the ground surrendered their last rattle

Like wounded soldiers in a deciduous war

The red the brown and yellow from a silent battle

Fallen foliage, their beauty like blood out-poured

 

Yet no one heard the foghorn blow

Warning of a rolling mist

We were too busy

Gathering embers from the summer’s glow

Collecting remnants from a dying bliss

 

But the flowers still radiated their beauty,

And tree displayed their sugar ladened fruit

This was nature last call and respectful duty

To thank the sun;

And to the summer salute.

End

  • Author: Everton Brome (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 18th, 2016 08:04
  • Comment from author about the poem: Devils Point is a beautiful location in Plymouth Devon. Steeped in war history yet bathing in beautiful peace. This poem was inspired when a small patch of ground fell into the sea revealing a red circular patch of ground as thought the devil himself came to admire its beauty and stepped on weak soil and burnt it.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 107
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Comments +

Comments2

  • SilentLaugh

    OmG! This is unimaginally mind blowing! Just amazing.It left me breathless.

  • Tony36

    WOW amazingly Awesome write



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