depiction of leaf raking by Harry Payne‘Raking Leaves’: A Poem by Cheryl Corey The Society November 15, 2024 Beauty, Poetry 22 Comments . Raking Leaves The blaze of autumn’s orange-gold is gone, And now it’s time to rake the fallen leaves, __To clear the cluttered eaves, __And face a colder dawn. Those piles and piles of crispy, mottled leaves Become as chaff between my sieve-like hands __And whirl in changing winds. __I gather up the sheaves Of days—of what has been and now is gone, While trying not to dwell on leaves and leavings, __Or dark and darker evenings, __But face the colder dawn. . . Cheryl Corey is a poet who lives in Connecticut. “Three Sisters,” her trio of poems about the sisters of Fate which were first published by the Society of Classical Poets, are featured in “Gods and Monsters,” an anthology of mythological poems (MacMillan Children’s Books, 2023). NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. Trending now: 22 Responses Jeremiah Johnson November 15, 2024 I like the progression from mere sensory observation to deeper meanings placed on the same observations. Also, to “clear the cluttered eaves” has a nice sound to it – and, in general, the tightness of the rhyme scheme has a pleasant repetitiveness. Thanks for this autumnal reflection! Reply Cheryl A Corey November 15, 2024 I’m pleased that you enjoy it, Jeremiah. Reply Joseph S. Salemi November 15, 2024 This is a perfect autumnal gem. In the third quatrain, the wordplay of “leaves” and “leavings” is a nice touch. Also, when the speaker talks of raking up leaves as gathering up sheaves (the bundles of wheat after a harvest), I hear an allusion to the famous passage in the Iliad when a warrior asks “Why ask my lineage? The generations of men are as the generations of leaves — each falls, to be replaced by another.” Autumnal poems tend to be somber, meditative, and melancholy, because they inevitable remind us of mortality (“the colder dawn”). Reply Cheryl A Corey November 15, 2024 Thank you for your kind words and comments, especially the reference to the Iliad, with which I was not familiar. Reply Roy Eugene Peterson November 15, 2024 Cheryl, this is an enchanting autumnal poem of dealing with the falling leaves and then resolving into the deeper meaning of comparing our late life situation while attempting to turn aside from our fearful inner thoughts about the “darkness” and “colder dawn”: facing us. Well rhymed and meaningful. Reply Cheryl Corey November 15, 2024 Perhaps it’s all part of being a New Englander, Roy, but for me the season always lends itself to a lot of introspection. Reply Paul A. Freeman November 15, 2024 You’re raking in the compliments, Cheryl. And quite righty so. Reply Cheryl A Corey November 15, 2024 SCP has the best wits. Reply Cynthia Erlandson November 15, 2024 This is just beautiful! And I love “sheaves of days”. Reply Cheryl A Corey November 15, 2024 Thanks, Cynthia. At times my pea brain serves me well. Reply Warren Bonham November 16, 2024 I’ve never seen that structure before with the transition from pentameter to trimeter in each stanza. It helped with the mood change from autumn to winter (which I’m not looking forward to). Great poem! Reply Cheryl A Corey November 16, 2024 I came across a poem by William Collins (1721-1759) called “Ode To Evening” consisting of two long lines followed by two short, as below, which I believe is called an “Alcaic stanza”, and wanted to try something in a similar vein. If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear, Like thy own solemn springs, Thy springs and dying gales, Reply Maria November 16, 2024 Dear Cheryl, just when I was debating with myself whether to go out and fight another losing battle clearing leaves or read poetry instead, I came across your poem. Suddenly the task is no longer an effort but poetic and glorious. Reply Cheryl A Corey November 16, 2024 Don’t feel bad, Maria. I’m still tackling red maple leaves, the last to drop. Reply Isabella November 16, 2024 A wonderful autumnal poem! The change of metre in the stanzas works beautifully with the subject. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. Reply Cheryl A Corey November 16, 2024 Thanks, Isabella. It’s a nice feeling when a poem comes together for you. Reply Margaret Coats November 16, 2024 I recall seeing “performance art” while at college in New York State. It was nothing more than a woman raking leaves–without any useful gathering or removal of them. The artist left that to the college maintenance men. You’ve done far better, Cheryl, with this elegant poem that rakes in meaning with every line of choice words. The form and its repetitions are as tight as a medieval French poem with a refrain, yet more packed with contemplative content than most of them. As Joseph Salemi says, an autumnal gem. Reply Cheryl A Corey November 16, 2024 Thank you for the compliment. I often recite a poem to myself over and over again until I’m happy with the wording and sound as well. Reply Shamik Banerjee November 17, 2024 Cheryl, you have skilfully delivered a spiritual message using a common post-autumn activity. I also like the metrical structure of this poem. Very lyrical and pleasurable to the senses. Reply Cheryl A Corey November 17, 2024 So glad you like it, Shamik. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant November 17, 2024 Cheryl, what an exquisite piece. You capture the very essence of autumn and conjure the spirit of the season with your rich tapestry of words – all very pleasing to the ear. This poem benefits from being read aloud. I love it. Reply Cheryl A Corey November 17, 2024 Thank you, Susan. Sometimes all it takes is a few words, a line, or a couplet, and then it’s like a kind of possession that seizes me until I see it through! Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Jeremiah Johnson November 15, 2024 I like the progression from mere sensory observation to deeper meanings placed on the same observations. Also, to “clear the cluttered eaves” has a nice sound to it – and, in general, the tightness of the rhyme scheme has a pleasant repetitiveness. Thanks for this autumnal reflection! Reply
Joseph S. Salemi November 15, 2024 This is a perfect autumnal gem. In the third quatrain, the wordplay of “leaves” and “leavings” is a nice touch. Also, when the speaker talks of raking up leaves as gathering up sheaves (the bundles of wheat after a harvest), I hear an allusion to the famous passage in the Iliad when a warrior asks “Why ask my lineage? The generations of men are as the generations of leaves — each falls, to be replaced by another.” Autumnal poems tend to be somber, meditative, and melancholy, because they inevitable remind us of mortality (“the colder dawn”). Reply
Cheryl A Corey November 15, 2024 Thank you for your kind words and comments, especially the reference to the Iliad, with which I was not familiar. Reply
Roy Eugene Peterson November 15, 2024 Cheryl, this is an enchanting autumnal poem of dealing with the falling leaves and then resolving into the deeper meaning of comparing our late life situation while attempting to turn aside from our fearful inner thoughts about the “darkness” and “colder dawn”: facing us. Well rhymed and meaningful. Reply
Cheryl Corey November 15, 2024 Perhaps it’s all part of being a New Englander, Roy, but for me the season always lends itself to a lot of introspection. Reply
Paul A. Freeman November 15, 2024 You’re raking in the compliments, Cheryl. And quite righty so. Reply
Warren Bonham November 16, 2024 I’ve never seen that structure before with the transition from pentameter to trimeter in each stanza. It helped with the mood change from autumn to winter (which I’m not looking forward to). Great poem! Reply
Cheryl A Corey November 16, 2024 I came across a poem by William Collins (1721-1759) called “Ode To Evening” consisting of two long lines followed by two short, as below, which I believe is called an “Alcaic stanza”, and wanted to try something in a similar vein. If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear, Like thy own solemn springs, Thy springs and dying gales, Reply
Maria November 16, 2024 Dear Cheryl, just when I was debating with myself whether to go out and fight another losing battle clearing leaves or read poetry instead, I came across your poem. Suddenly the task is no longer an effort but poetic and glorious. Reply
Cheryl A Corey November 16, 2024 Don’t feel bad, Maria. I’m still tackling red maple leaves, the last to drop. Reply
Isabella November 16, 2024 A wonderful autumnal poem! The change of metre in the stanzas works beautifully with the subject. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. Reply
Cheryl A Corey November 16, 2024 Thanks, Isabella. It’s a nice feeling when a poem comes together for you. Reply
Margaret Coats November 16, 2024 I recall seeing “performance art” while at college in New York State. It was nothing more than a woman raking leaves–without any useful gathering or removal of them. The artist left that to the college maintenance men. You’ve done far better, Cheryl, with this elegant poem that rakes in meaning with every line of choice words. The form and its repetitions are as tight as a medieval French poem with a refrain, yet more packed with contemplative content than most of them. As Joseph Salemi says, an autumnal gem. Reply
Cheryl A Corey November 16, 2024 Thank you for the compliment. I often recite a poem to myself over and over again until I’m happy with the wording and sound as well. Reply
Shamik Banerjee November 17, 2024 Cheryl, you have skilfully delivered a spiritual message using a common post-autumn activity. I also like the metrical structure of this poem. Very lyrical and pleasurable to the senses. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant November 17, 2024 Cheryl, what an exquisite piece. You capture the very essence of autumn and conjure the spirit of the season with your rich tapestry of words – all very pleasing to the ear. This poem benefits from being read aloud. I love it. Reply
Cheryl A Corey November 17, 2024 Thank you, Susan. Sometimes all it takes is a few words, a line, or a couplet, and then it’s like a kind of possession that seizes me until I see it through! Reply