Season of Strange

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    Poem Commentary

    I stumbled upon this paper I wrote freshman year for my English class. So be aware if it is confusing, I was young.

    Season of Strange

    It is a matter not my own
    I will become another sight
    Brightly colors of orange and brown
    I do not like it, stolen nights
    I am but a season named fall
    I come around at winter's call

    It is another matter again
    To see another costly sight
    To see the ice, it screams in vain
    Many colors, but mostly white
    I call myself, others too, the winter
    Around 'till spring cannot stand brr

    But another matter again
    Wonderful flowers, come up 'Pop!'
    It is inevitable; rain
    Several fall down, many drops
    I am but the spring, spring alone
    Welcome in the coming bright tones

    Another matter, never known
    The sun comes up, brightens the sight
    Sleeping creatures, eyes get unsewn
    It is so strange, such a greater light
    I, the season, one of summer
    Welcome in, such things are warmer 

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    Chaos128 commented on Season of Strange

    12-13-2010

    A diamond in the rough has more than value, it has potential. Infinite possibilities abound in this keen reminder of the days when you spoke another language. Tell your younger self I said, keep up the good work. : )
    Reply to Comment

    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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