'TEN' REPRESENTS THE MONTH OF OCTOBER

October

BY ROBERT FROST

              O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call;

Tomorrow they may form and go.

O hushed October morning mild,

Begin the hours of this day slow.

Make the day seem to us less brief.

Hearts not averse to being beguiled,

Beguile us in the way you know.

Release one leaf at break of day;

At noon release another leaf;

One from our trees, one far away.

Retard the sun with gentle mist;

Enchant the land with amethyst.

Slow, slow!

For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,

Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,

Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—

For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

ITS MOMENTOUS CONSEQUENCE WAS SOLEMNLY EXPERIENCED YET AGAIN:

THE

'SUMMER 

WIND'

 WHISPERED

 (COME HOME ... COME HOME) 

R. I. P.

Marilyn Audrey Grenn 

SO TRUE...OH! SO SADLY TRUE

Just ask his ex-wife Judith...

AND 'FLY' SHE SURELY DID!

My tribute to Toni Morrison

(and her most memorable quotes)

... There is really nothing more to say-except 'why'. But since why is difficult to handle, one must take refuge in 'how'.

At some point in life the world’s beauty becomes enough. You don’t need to photograph, paint, or even remember it... It is enough...

"And I am all the things I have ever loved: scuppernong wine, cool baptisms in silent water, dream books and number playing"... 

Anger … it’s a paralyzing emotion … you can’t get anything done. People sort of think it’s an interesting, passionate, and igniting feeling – I don’t think it’s any of that – it’s helpless … it’s absence of control –

I have no use for it whatsoever.

"He looked at her face in the mirror and

was reminded of days at sea when water

looked like sky".

B. 2-18-1931

D. 8-5-2019

R.I.P.  (gentle poet)

"She is imperturbable, articulate, magisterial, satiny, wise. She makes no apologies for her work, her honors, her offerings..."

SOULFULLY RECALLING THAT INFAMOUS NIGHT BACK IN NOVEMBER OF 2016,

  I pen these verses, all the while invoking the spirit of W.E. Henley [for his beautifully measured cadence via 'Invictus' ]. In the same spirit, I entitle my own written poem 'Convictus'.

 C *O *N *V *I *C *T *U* S 

Around that bleak November night,

      Among the nation's voting polls 

Whatever gods that might exist 

     Encountered pain within their souls. 

                  Some viewed this outcome 'circumstance',

      Much eased by Russians from abroad;

Behind dim cloaks of secrecy,

      Their stealthy actions beckoned fraud.

YET...

Abhorring pretense, scams, and cons

      Remain some guardians 'unafraid'; 

As years unfold, and facts give way, 

      It finds them weary of such trade.

No matter when feign glamour calls,

How charmed one is by crafty lure,

We MUST be masters of the 'GOOD',

Assuring grace and truth endure.

Written by LPG

                                                    EPILOGUE- The root of all evil...