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Colin Hassard
I am 23, live in Banbridge and have been writing since I was 15 - anything from poetry, to stories, to scripts, to shopping lists. My influences as a poet are primarily the Beat poets, as well as Ted Hughes, Robert Frost and Sylvia Plath. I'm working to live and live at the weekends.
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Autumn Leaves by Colin
Hassard
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When a leaf falls to the ground its life is not over.
Retribution, a hibernation, it seeks a solace in late October.
Without hesitation, tell me what I want, maybe need, to
hear.
Say, with a murmur, that it is still beautiful.
It could be crumbling, withering, perhaps dying.
Tell me, in spite of its faded bloom, you love to gaze upon
it.
The colours may have distorted to red, to brown, or to gold.
A delicate dreamlike watercolour painting of autumn,
Whispered to a blank canvas like whispers to a loved one.
A sad lament with brush strokes no one could feel.
Some say that it is still breathing, still beating;
I believe it is grieving. Golden slumbers always waken in
black.
Send a prayer to the virtues; it will not be coming back.
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