Of autumn and longing

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Once in a while
sun falls on sugar maple trees
Once in a while
comes soft prayer upon her lips
carried aloft on languid breeze
when poet truly loves and sees
Once in a while

You rarely smile
  sometimes it’s hard to understand
You rarely smile
in autumn cold and shortened days
I sought to trace on shifting sand
with hope held in far-stretching hand
You rarely smile

Once in a while
glimpse ardor in his earnest eyes
Once in a while
is maple lit by harvest moon
autumn is tears and wanton sighs
as I write beneath azure skies
Once in a while

You rarely smile
but delight in november rain
You rarely smile
at discreet tongue and wistful odes
burn with sacchariferous pain
as hand in hand we tread again
You rarely smile

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

Form: Rondelet

Posted for ‘Sunday Mini-Challenge’ @ Real Toads

and posted on the Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

56 thoughts on “Of autumn and longing

  1. Magaly Guerrero says:

    I’m laughing (quite joyously) because when I finished reading, I let out a huge sigh of acknowledgement. Once in a while, poetry makes us do physical things… and that is a great reason to laugh (with living joy).

  2. Marian says:

    Okay Sanaa… this is just gorgeous! I was right in referring to you as overachiever 🙂

    The consistent rhymes throughout this longer piece make your poem read like a song. Which is entirely appropriate for these old French forms. I really want to hear this sung to music. !!!!!

    Also… I have a new challenge for you. Try writing a roundel, which is a longer version in the same family as the rondelet. Here is the article from the Garden when we tackled this one: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2011/08/burned-tongues-and-unfamiliar-waters.html Try it!!

    xoxox to you!

    • Sanaa says:

      Oh gosh! ❤️ Thank you so much, Marian 😀 so glad you enjoyed it! ❤️

      (The form is absolutely exquisite. I wrote a poem last year 🙂 )

  3. Mary says:

    Sometimes a person can show their delight by just being there….not necessarily smiling. I like the form of this poem, Sanaa, and also the repetitions.

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