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Autumn Colors 15 SEP: On the Tragic Fall of Maurice the Yellow
On the Tragic Fall of Maurice the Yellow
I’m up a tree, it seems to me.
My name’s Maurice, and life is hard.
There’s no way to fall gracefully.
In the Spring I was fancy free,
before I saw what’s in the cards.
I’m up a tree, it seems to me.
The Summer sun warmed and lulled me,
as my fate I did disregard.
There’s no way to fall gracefully.
But Autumn has come upon me;
I look down to imagine shards.
I’m up a tree, it seems to me.
Yellow with fear, I won’t let it be!
How was my life so evil-starred?
There’s no way to fall gracefully.
To have lived a life so shortly
to be thrust upon the pile of discard,
I’m up a tree, it seems to me.
There’s no way to fall gracefully.
This poem is part of a series of five, called Leaf Droppings. They take the form of villanelles. I hope you enjoy them. Feel free to make a few autumn verses of your own below.
Published in Group Writing
The streets are grey, the air is brown
The traffic passes, grim and fleet
That’s just the way it is downtown.
This post-er’s name has wide renown
Inventiveness that guides his feet
For making Father Time a clown
Some people call me Maurice.
I bet no one ever gets away with it twice.
Cause I speak of the pompitous of love
That’s a nice poem, Arahant. I’d never heard of villanelles.
Sure don’t want to hurt no one.
I’m a picker
I’m a grinner
Thank you. How about this rather famous one:
https://poets.org/poem/do-not-go-gentle-good-night
I didn’t even know that was a villanelle!
Not really surprising, given that you’ve never heard of villanelles.
Now you know, and can impress your friends and family, if the subject ever comes up. And if you follow the link in the original post above, you can even find out what makes it a villanelle.
I knew someone would say that, and I knew it would be you.
He’s predictable like that.
People keep talking ’bout me.
They say I’m doin’ you wrong
But you don’t hear a word they’re sayin’.
Only the echoes of your mind.
We had Jon Voight at one of our social events. The room was noisy, so he apologetically retreated to a corner to answer a cell phone call, one hand closing the other ear. We noted, “Everybody’s talking at him. But he can’t hear a word they’re saying. Only the echoes of his mind…”
Fred Neil wrote and recorded that. Harry Nilsson covered it. It went nowhere special. Then it got picked up for Midnight Cowboy and became a classic. Nilsson became a star. Fred Neil released two more albums, bailed on his music career, and took his pot of royalty money and lit out for Cocoanut Grove, where the sun keeps shinin’, through the pouring rain.
I’m loving the interplay of discussion of poetry theory and the Steve Miller Band in the comments!
This tragic autobiography of a leaf is part of our Group Writing Series under the September 2019 Group Writing Theme: “Autumn Colors.” There are plenty of dates available. Our schedule and sign-up sheet awaits.
Interested in Group Writing topics that came before? See the handy compendium of monthly themes. Check out links in the Group Writing Group. You can also join the group to get a notification when a new monthly theme is posted.
For those not in the know:
It’s more than just the Steve Miller band. And it could get worse yet. (Or better, depending on what you like.) But, hey, you don’t need no credit card to ride this train.
I’m hip.
I’d not read into Dylan Thomas’s story arc before.
Reads like Hank Williams, Sr.
A talking leaf by the name of Maurice! What’s next? A talking tree by. The name of Groot?
Your poem reminded me, of course, of the greatest Villanelle of all time, Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle.”
i’ve never met a student of poetic forms before. They might put this on your tombstone some day: He was a lover of women and poetic forms
Way to go, Arahant.
I forget who it was, but there was one famous person whose tombstone said “I TOLD you I was sick”
Hank Williams was a very interesting character. The Luke the Drifter work is a very different facet.
No, other talking leaves and maybe a talking and very self-satisfied pine needle.
I think it was a person who became famous because of her epitaph.
There are many of them.
I also like Merv Griffin’s.
Erma Bombeck’s: “Big deal. I’m used to dust.”