Autumn Shadows

the upper peninsula autumn colors have faded and now warped brown leaves are at the mercy of the november winds. i am now feasting on my crockpot rice madness stews and waiting for the creative long white season to begin. as a senior graybeard frequently musing, i often feel like a ghost in the peter bogdanovich film "the last picture show." i grew up in a small town like anarene on the eve of the korean war. the rialto theater, our cars, fred's pool hall and flirting with...
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the upper peninsula autumn colors have faded and now warped brown leaves are at the mercy of the november winds. i am now feasting on my crockpot rice madness stews and waiting for the creative long white season to begin. as a senior graybeard frequently musing, i often feel like a ghost in the peter bogdanovich film "the last picture show." i grew up in a small town like anarene on the eve of the korean war. the rialto theater, our cars, fred's pool hall and flirting with young girls were the important things. to escape becoming a papermill lifer, i chased after a college education. following graduation, i married three-and-a-half times, had children, divorced, and paid child support. however, i still miss the stepdaughter i almost had who now is a young woman. rebelling against the sears "revolver" debt and house beautiful demands i lost myself in demon rum ethers. mysteriously one morning i wrote a poem and suddenly realized creating poetry was what i wanted to do all my life. i wrote without any formal rules or mfa requirements, and have acquired a modest collection of work. in addition, i have no sympathy for poets who "talk" about a new poem, and feel the test of a determined writer is the next poem that they create. autumn shadows published by editor alison vyain of "moon press" contains poems that reflect the world through the eyes of a bardic geezer. with my days rapidly passing, doing contest with the elusive damn dame lady muse has the major adversary of "rat bastard time." however, for the reader and writer of poetry, never forget, the most beautiful thing in the world is the wild brook trout