Damn was not going to survive anyway. It was his time. I feel sorry for him

Shit happens.. Again one of your wonderfully sarcastic poems, dear Keith!

Powerfully penned, Keith. It’s that time of year, when you tell halloween stories. With a name like, Rusty Trombone, he was dealt a bad hand from the start. Appreciate you.

Damian

Your halloweenish spooky words are the best for the month…

That’s some heavy fucking irony, Keith. The title reminded of an old song, though it had to do with trains it wasn’t this twisted. Appreciate you.

Damian

Gotta be on your toes. Getting too comfortable can get you hurt.
This also reminds me of people who text and walk into polls because they don’t look around.

Scrumptious minced blind meat…

Interesting. cyborg seem to be reminiscing about what it loves to do.

Your autumn melancholy is eloquent and flows unhindered, Sappho. If we, like the leaves, could let go we would be more free and happier.. I like to think, anyway. “Until death embraces you again”, that line evokes a strange though peaceful reaction within me. All things return to their original state, which I guess in the case of living things is nonexistence. Only my take on things. A joy to read and very thought provoking piece.

Clay

Just beautiful…🙏

Greetings Elke. What a marvelous piece of poetry my friend. I absolutely love this time of year. I don’t look at this time of the year as the end but the beginning. Peace & tranquility with cooler temperatures and an appreciation for nature. Stellar write as always!

I like the idea of embracing shadows, not everything needs to be terrifying.
Nature shows us how to accept change gracefully.
Wonderful write.

An especially brilliant line: “…Until death embraces you again.”

Beautifully penned, Elke. Such an amazing write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

Autumn is the best season. Besides the beauty of it, it’s also about reflection and preparation. It’s the kindest season, too.
As per your usual, this is a strong write, with great details to capture the readers interest.
Many writers say that they write for themselves. That is only partially true. We also write/post to be seen somewhat. And we describe what we see, feel, etc. You write like a leader. A gentleness in your guidance through your poetry.

Autumn, when color is the harbinger of death and the bleakness of Winter. I think it is true, you don’t really appreciate living until you have seen death. Most people see Autumn as a cyclic event, but this is not true. It’s more the contradiction of all life in which death is a fundamental element within it, and until it becomes dominant over life. And ironically, we humans are the only life form on the planet that contemplates our lives and our deaths. We are amazing creatures and should not waste one precious second of our lives thinking about our inner lives when the whole world stands before us and we have the responsibility to make it better for the next generation.

Thank you Sappho, for your amazing poem.
-Curt

We all reach for the sky only to be brought back down to the ground. Wonderful ink.

So eloquent and delicate with your language here. Like a leaf feathering to the ground.