Archive for the ‘Autumn’ Category
Technically this is early autumn,
but it feels like late summer to me.
The temperatures my energies drain
each time I venture outdoors daily.
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I long to wander in the woods again
for longer than an hour at a time,
but I cannot do that yet, for the heat
deprives me of that pleasure sublime.
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Autumnal temperatures, my dear friends,
where are you? Please speed, like Mercury
the winged, to us, and deign to remain
until winter comes gloriously.
KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR
SEPTEMBER 23, 2017 COMMON ERA
Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor
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Leslie Catherine Taylor,
my furry feline child,
will be my child forever,
half-wild, all-cat, half-mild.
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She has joined the pantheon
of great cats I have known–
Jean-Luc, Harry, Charlemagne,
Caesar, and Duncan; done
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are their lives on Earth yet they
remain my furry kinfolk;
those feline monarchs do reign
in my heart; death can’t revoke
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their status as cat children
in my mind. This tuxedo cat,
with her determination
to leave feral ways at
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the altar of the past, has
chosen the better part.
And the black on her nose, paws’
pads, and her fur is art-
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ful. Her nose is pink and black,
her fur coat distinguished,
her manner no sweetness lacks;
she’s all I could have wished.
KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR
SEPTEMBER 29, 2014 COMMON ERA
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Below: Leslie, September 30, 2014
Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor
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Above: The Original Text
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AUTHOR’S COMMENT:
I looked up at the sky tonight and thought of “islands of night sky.” So I wrote the prompt down and let it develop into a concise form.
KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR
DECEMBER 11, 2013 COMMON ERA
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Islands of night sky
populate the ocean of clouds
above my head
on a cold night.
KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR
DECEMBER 11, 2013 COMMON ERA
Above: Chalfont Drive, Athens, Georgia, December 8, 2013
Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor
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On a cold, wet, and gray day,
after having attended church and
consumed the body and blood of Christ,
there did commence, I am glad to say,
a quiet, studious time, one easy to stand,
but indoors, which, I do surmise,
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was proper, given the weather.
It was a time to study and to grade,
as well as to make family history
inquiries. These quiet behaviors
near lamps were for today made,
given the outdoor cold, wet, gray misery.
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It was an indoor kind of day
on which to do little–and that
at a leisurely pace–and to consume
caffeine and well-lit to stay,
for such weather affects me bad-
ly; outside felt like doom.
KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR
DECEMBER 8, 2013 COMMON ERA
Above: The Beginning of the Draft of This Poem
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On a December morning,
I pull into the parking lot
of an auto parts store,
in search of ice scrapers.
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Inevitable is my noticing,
next to that spot,
where, for a month in 2010, I did score
high school graduation papers.
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It was a brief employment fling,
something which I got
to supplement my teaching pay, for
I thought I’d like to grade more papers.
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Instead, I wound up learning
that the part-time job did not
satisfy me, and even bothered me sore-
ly; the task I came to curse.
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It seems that my scoring
proved too strict. I got
no invitation for an encore,
for my standards I did not reverse.
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That ended three years and a month
ago, and I am still in town.
When I was a child, seldom did I remain
anywhere longer than three years,
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so my tenure in Athens doth stunneth
me; I smile, not frown.
Moving so often was a great pain,
one which engendered terrible fears
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within me. My blessings of stability runneth
over; I welcome familiar sights and sounds
from three or more years past. The main
thing is that they are around here.
KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR
DECEMBER 3, 2013 COMMON ERA
Above: Chalfont Drive, Athens-Clarke County, December 3, 2013
Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor
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On a late afternoon
in early December,
rain falls, uttering
“pitter, patter,”
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hoping, perhaps, that I will swoon
and not, as I collect the mail, shiver,
in the wet and the temperatures cooling,
then return home, water splatter-
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ing until, quite soon,
my home I re-enter,
mail delivering
into dry shelter.
KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR
DECEMBER 3, 2013 COMMON ERA
Above: Part of the Second Draft of the Poem
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A tree in Americus woods grows upward
then back to the ground, forming an arch
of wood and bark unbroken–not severed–
through which one might even march.
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Why did the tree grow this way?
It is a good question, I propose.
Pondering such things, I do say,
regarding how Mother Nature goes,
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is a helpful spiritual exercise,
for to look around and pay attention–
really to open one’s eyes–
is to notice what God has done.
KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR
NOVEMBER 29, 2013 COMMON ERA
