Autumn Leaves

Gavin Meggs

Description

"How beautiful the leaves grow old. How full of light and colour are their last days."
John Burroughs When nature lets go the leaf and cushions its journey to the forest floor, does she know that the settling leaf will form part of one of the most beautiful mosaics known to man? There is magic created as each leaf folds into another, finding its home alongside the siblings that until this time it has not been able to touch. Joining together as one with part of something to which it has always belonged. Like raindrops falling into a stream so they may flow into a river and return once again to the shore of their birth. This is how the memories of my love come together. Now as one within the pages of this book.

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
• Date de parution: 04 mai 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528968737
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Autumn Leaves
Gavin Meggs
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-05-04
Autumn Leaves About The Author Dedication Copyright Information © Foreword Autumn Leaves Gifted 255 Colchester Road Tomorrow Is Another Day, Just Another Day My Ever After You Signed Your Name Across My Heart Thunder, Lightning, Shocks and Me Time Passes, Feelings Linger Ignition Nature’s Truth Lost in Iris No Regrets To My Other Lover January Through May Age Comes to Those Who Deserve It Renée Gene Deprivation Sows the Seeds of Desire Butterfly Valentine Tsunami There’s a Touch upon My Lips Byng Lane Bereft of Time The Pauper Wins Anything but Ordinary What’s Your Passion Flower? Was Your Journey Far Too Long Elevation Why Words Are Not Enough Chase Me, Catch Me, Kill Me Why? Why? Nothing Means Anything Without You Wholesome How Do I Feel? I Cannot Happiness Must I Leave You? I Must My Treasure Yours and Mine Clarity My Perfect You Thrown Clouded Why Bother Turning? My Earth A Million Buts Christmas Constants As One If Only Fels Farm Wordless Get Well Soon Artistry Trading Ease Airborne The Letter on This Desk The Letter on This Desk (Part Two) Beneath What If It Hurts Like Hell? The Angel on the Stair
About The Author
Gavin Meggs was born in London, England. He studied artificial intelligence at Sussex University before moving into corporate life, where he has worked in a number of research, consultancy and leadership roles. Gavin has always been inspired by life in all its forms. In his writing, he seeks to share perspectives in a way that he hopes will live on in the hearts and minds of those that read his work.
Gavin currently lives in London, where he is married and is a father to five sons and one daughter. Autumn Leaves is his second collection.
Dedication
If we are constrained to live but one life, then I am glad to say that you have been part of mine.
Copyright Information ©
Gavin Meggs (2020)
The right of Gavin Meggs to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a poetry book, which is a product of the author’s imagination. It reflects the author’s recollections of experiences over time. Any resemblance to other works of poetry, quotes, slogans, to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528936514 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528936521 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781528968737 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Foreword
“The crispness of autumn leaves underfoot on the paths we never walked.”
These words, more than any others in this collection, tell of the imagined existence that gave rise to many of the verses contained within. In truth, even the sliding door moment was imagined – there was no splice between two parallel worlds, just the need for an existence where I could express myself and where I could ‘be’ without fear of rejection. A love that existed on paper alone and which remained largely uncommunicated.
For the subjects of my musings, I am immensely grateful. Without their inspiration, I would have been unable to live such an inspired life; without their acceptance, I would have had to put down my pen, and I would not have so many weary leaves of text to look back on.
I know I cannot be alone in having lived moments like these.
I hope that as you read through this collection, you become accustomed to how beautiful love can be. As someone that was once described as ‘having more love than he is capable of handling’, I have learnt, over many years, that it is okay to be like that. You just need to learn how to write it down.
Autumn Leaves
A s life’s winter’s tale moves from one page to the next, I find myself wanting to unfurl the dog-ears that obscure the footnotes. The yellowing pages make the once stark contrast between black ink and white page less extreme, and I see for the first time the patterns hidden amongst the text. The rhythm, rhyme and reason instead of just the symbols and punctuation.
Characters take on a life of their own, and I sense that I no longer just know of them. I begin to grasp them, feel as they feel, want as they want. I ache to satisfy their needs. Fictional though they appear to others.
My hunger for these characters to be part of me and for me to be part of them is real and is suppressed only by the knowledge that if I were subsumed, I would live on in their lives. Be a part of something real instead of this partial existence.
It is not the passion of my conviction that now surprises me, rather the time it has taken to reach this state. The days of unknowing which precede the enlightenment.
Youth still flows through my veins, but only occasionally do I feel it. My autumn years approaching too rapidly as dreams of summer fade amongst the hue of the deciduous life that surrounds me.
As I near the end of the tale, I return to savour the notes I have made through the years. Each weary leaf of text scarred by the careful precision of my nib. Each phrase drawn out and full of the memories to which it pertains. Each chapter an artefact catalogued like a specimen ready for examination. Each page loose in my hand as I struggle to hold the story together.
I miss you most of all, my darling, when autumn leaves begin to fall.