Les Feuilles Mortes Options

[Guest_ohsteve_*]

Hanging like bitter fruit,
forgotten,
ragged,
umber in their starkness.
Dry rattling at the hint of winters breath,
loose fingernails on bone, stark limbs.
Eager to join in the desecration,
decaying slowly.
Once living, sun absorbing
turned into an opus of multicolors,
at frosts first full force.
Left as a shell at the shore,
listless,
lifeless,
gone.

[Psyche]

Coming back to this one, Steve! Have to go out now.
It's interesting, just needs a few tweaks, OK?
Cheers, Syl***

[Arnfinn]

Hi Steve,


I read, as a poem about Zombies.

Am I close.



John

[Guest_ohsteve_*]

John, interesting asumption, but no not Zombies, the translation of the title says it all.
Steve

[Arnfinn]

Hi Steve,

i KNOW A LITTLE gERMAN. Mort. dead

All I can work out perhaps: The Fire is Dead.



Hanging like bitter fruit,
forgotten,
ragged,
umber in their starkness.
Dry rattling at the hint of winters breath,
loose fingernails on bone, stark limbs.
Eager to join in the desecration,
decaying slowly.
Once living, sun absorbing
turned into an opus of multicolors,
at frosts first full force.
Left as a shell at the shore,
listless,
lifeless,
gone.



Hmmm... makes a pretty sad piece, Steve.

Very good.

I can feel the absolute; no chance of reconcilliation throughout.

Regards,


John

[Psyche]

Hi Steve, at last!

I adore the title of your poem, as it brings back such wonderful memories of the famous French singers. I've actually pasted the French lyrics down below, there must be an English version, but that's all I can manage for now!
Let's see whether I can nit anything, for you to toss or take.

I think perhaps your poem could be a metaphor -albeit subconscious- of other, more serious issues than dead leaves. That's because you've included some strong vocabulary, indicating dying or death, that apparently wouldn't apply to one of Nature's least harsh processess. Autumn is so lovely, usually!


Hanging like bitter fruit,
forgotten,
ragged,
umber in their starkness.

Tho' these 4L are very good, still I find it difficult to associate them with Autumn leaves, which can be so beautiful and are seldom 'forgotten'...That's why I have to ask whether you had something else in mind? Or maybe it's a war zone, some devastated bombed-out area?

Dry rattling at the hint of winters breath, You need an apostrophe for winters: winter's

loose fingernails on bone, stark limbs.
Eager to join in the desecration,
decaying slowly.

'Dry rattling' reminds me of 'death rattle'....gee, Steve, this gets more & more harsh.
For me, at least, it makes me think of dead bodies on a battlefield....perhaps the trees' 'limbs' can also be construed as human beings' limbs? All decaying together.

Once living, sun absorbing
turned into an opus of multicolors,
at frosts first full force. Apostrophe for 'frosts': frosts' or frost's


After the first 3L there is a swing in perspective, maybe from Autumn to Winter?

Left as a shell at the shore,
listless,
lifeless,
gone.

Here again, I can't relate 'left as a shell at the shore' with dead leaves. The word shell can be a seashell, but is also war vocabulary. Normandie comes to mind....

Steve, altho' I find this a striking poem, I think it needs a little clarifying. Please don't take my interpretations as anywhere near absolute, I'm simply telling you what your poem transmits to me! My problem....LOL....

Thanks for sharing, Syl***


Les Feuilles Mortes, lyrics by Jacques Prèvert, music by Joseph Kosma. (Sung by Edith Piaf, Yves Montand and many others)

Oh! je voudrais tant que tu te souviennes
Des jours heureux où nous étions amis.
En ce temps-là la vie était plus belle,
Et le soleil plus brûlant qu'aujourd'hui.
Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle.
Tu vois, je n'ai pas oublié...
Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle,
Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi
Et le vent du nord les emporte
Dans la nuit froide de l'oubli.
Tu vois, je n'ai pas oublié
La chanson que tu me chantais.

C'est une chanson qui nous ressemble.
Toi, tu m'aimais et je t'aimais
Et nous vivions tous deux ensemble,
Toi qui m'aimais, moi qui t'aimais.
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s'aiment,
Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable
Les pas des amants désunis.

[Guest_ohsteve_*]

Wow Sylvia, Such an indepth look at something so simple. It always amazes me when someone reads so much into something that I wrote as so simple to me in my mind. But after reading your great analysis Syl I can see where you might get the idea that this was written a lot deeper than you think. Although of course it could have been part of my subconscious mind that helped write it this way.

I was reading a book, I was reading a book at the Doctors office about 'Bones' which the TV series was based on. when the title popped off the pages at me... 'The Dead Leaves', and immediatly this image of the pear trees I have on my front lawn came to mind, of when every spring they always have a few bunches of dead brown leaves and ungrown pears just hanging from the limbs, (there for bitter fruit). They are often unnoticed thru the winter, and stand out very stark against the first buds of white on the trees.

The shells were just that sea shells, have you ever seen a small pile of shells left behind by some forgetful child like a lost toy, to me that is an image that seems forlorn, and sad. Then soon they are washed away by the in coming tide...gone. and that my friend is the simplicity behind this poem. Oh and please forgive my puncuation, Spell checker doesn't catch those things and I forget to put them in...shame on me.
Thanks for the effort of your time Sylvia, I do appreciate it, and thanks for reading.
Steve