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Autumn Life Poems | Life Poems About Autumn

These Autumn Life poems are examples of Life poems about Autumn. These are the best examples of Autumn Life poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

Where The Sycamore Grew

The house seemed smaller, now seen with older eyes...
The street seemed narrower, the trees taller..
Where once were open fields across the road
New construction had bloomed
The small fruit orchard had disappeared

But somehow we knew it would still be there....
Strangely different, ...yet much the same

There was an unfamiliar young child's tricycle
On the flagstone path that we laid...
In front of this little house that lies
Beyond the curve, where the old sycamore grew...

Suddenly, thirty years faded into that autumn day
And quickly had become a springtime of our lives..... 
...of first Christmas trees,..of first anniversaries...
            ...a place where I cried night after night when mother died...
                       ...and spent long, starry nights holding newborn babes....
Yes....it is all still there, in the little yellow house

Funny, but I'm glad they kept the yellow...
It has the same white shutters...
The little yellow house, with a flagstone pathway that we laid
That sits beyond the curve, where the old sycamore grew...


                                         ++++++++++++++++++


Details | Rhyme |

Winds of Autumn

I called to the winds of autumn
As they wrapped up the dying year;
"Oh stay for a moment and tell me
Of answers I need to hear".

Who is the rival of prudence
Who is the merchant of crime
Who closes the eyes of beauty
And steals the hours of time?
Who brings the winter to age
From the springs of the fountain of youth
Who is the companion of sorrow
And destroys the justice of truth?
Who's the apprentice of Satan
The Prince of the Power of Air
Whose appetite is transgression
With more than enough to share?
Who weakens the power of the great
Who slaughters the wisdom of wise
Who brings the honest and gracious
To depths that others despise?

The winds of autumn now answered
With a voice like a phantom call
"It's an evil afflicting so many
Who drown in the drink alcohol."
This is the spell of the devil
Who casts his net from hell
An addiction with power to destroy
Gathering all who are caught in its spell
For his net will gather the unwary
To beguile lost souls with his breath;
This is the destruction of lost dreams
That perish in the arms of death






Details | Free verse |

THE OLD OAK TREE


         Oh I am but a simple leaf
         withering within the gutter
         one summer of bliss
         now! Just an autumn flutter.

                   For some; destine to fall
                   upon stony ground, a part
                   of life’s infernal gyration.
                   Yet for those that fall
                   within your reach, to live
                   on within your soul!

         While limbs that stretch
         towards the solstice, create
         vivacious veins as channels of hope,
         a pledge of foliation continues
         to endure what spring has
         furnished; autumn expires. 

                   Yes! If we can but learn
                   from nature’s complex simplicity,
                   that life be of a cycle
                   from the seed we are conceived,
                   then let spring be my beginning
                   winter my exultant eve!

         Let our two cultures
         merge as one, the
         decomposed humus
         to become the sustenance;
         our transfusion the
         new beginning.

                   Let us breathe the
                   fragrance of born again;
                   let each slender limb,
                   stout body bear our
                   tenaciousness, each lyrical
                   leaf our life’s blood.

          Let us mollycoddle each
          precious tear that falls from a
          angry sky; dance gracefully
          upon the wind, embrace
          on moonless nights, bathe
           in summer madness.

                   Let us hear the bluebell call,
                   the daffodil pray, the apple
                   blossom bear witness; the
                   clamour of the field mouse
                   the pitapat of the butterfly
                   the silence of lovers in love.

             Let us be sanctuary to the
             symbolic songstress, scuttling
             squirrel, vulgar urchin;
             a fortress for the warrior
             a haven for the pacifist
             an inspiration for the poet!

 EPILOGUE 

                  The call of springtime
                   we will invoke,
                     logging representative
                      we will gladly choke;
                        nature’s guardian.
                          “This! Obliging old oak.”


        

         








Details | Rhyme |

Lives to Live

I need more lives for me to live
In this universe of beauty;
I plan more days to find new ways
Of doing freedom's duty.
I need not more joy than this
For I am life's dear lover;
And when I wage to turn the page
I'd never want another.

The glorious pledge of sunny Spring
With sweet June coming after;
Bring autumn sighs and summers cries
Lost in winter's laughter.
With virgin moons and scorching noon’s
And stars of a thousand nights;
I'd need no heaven if love be given
With all its sweet delights.

There are many splendors for the eye
And such music for the ear;
The mind would reel with all to feel
And see to touch and hear.
There's many ways to spend the days
And more to do what's kind;
For bread now cast on waters past
Returns again I find.

There are such gifted souls to know
And many more to learn;
While a promise rests in earth's warm breast
And unknown stars still burn.
In six days God made all the earth
The bible is known to say;
Six lives I need to plant a seed
Of love with one for each dear day.

But sad if love should fly away
Or hide his face from me;
Six lives aren’t much if I had such
But one’s all that need be.
With unhappy May and sorry June
Sad dawns and weary night;
A sorry world through space was hurled
When love had lost her light.


Details | Elegy |

In the Autumn of My Life

I walk through flames 
of autumn’s sweet refrain-

That break  beneath 
a weight  too much to bear-

Where I tread in solitude 
and mourning there-

Along a path  of maple trees
and scented air-

As I recall the life that 
we once shared-

And in these twilight hours 
I see the beauty of it all-

In every autumn leaf
That softly falls-


~~~
Author:  Elaine George

Awarded : 1st place in - Brian Strand's contest - A Choice of Form


Details | Narrative |

My Favorite Devonshire :D

Past-Life Nightmare
A child of four suffers recurring dreams,
disturbing parents and siblings with screams.
When she awoke, always sore in one knee;
next to a birthmark, it throbbed painfully.

Night after night she feared going to bed.
What caused these nightmares that raged in her head?
Even when grown, the torment persisted,
so a therapist’s aid she enlisted.

“Hypnosis,” said he, “might offer some clues.
Why not try it?  You’ve just bad dreams to lose.”
Once under, he guided her to a room --
here people’s lifetimes in books were entombed.

“Find one that is yours,” her counselor said.
Quickly she did, but before it was read,
she felt an ache, saw just a faint title.
The words, she thought, said “Alister Bridle.”

The hypnotic trance now suddenly broke;  
puzzling questions “Mr. Bridle” evoked.
For many years she thought that was her name;
perhaps a past life had been filled with pain.

Who was this man?  She simply had to know!
Seasons passed, summer suns made way for snow.
In Florida now, 1998,
she thought all the nightmares she had escaped.

But strange dreams always catch us by surprise --
when the lights grow dim, our minds fantasize.
Cloaked in velvet, she left her parents’ farm,
stealing away on a late autumn morn’.

To meet her love, she climbed on the carriage,
knowing her folks would forbid their marriage.
Warm-hued leaves carpeted the hillside road,
and her pulse beat fast; she’d soon join her beau.

She thought only of him; joy cast its smile,
but that’s when he called, “Alice, the bridle!”
The leather band broke and wrapped ‘round her knee.
To the ground she was pulled; her horse ran free.

She met death, but past-life dreams recycle,
and she’d never been “Alister Bridle.”



*Based on real events I experienced.
--Carolyn Devonshire

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I first read this gripping narrative as an entry for my contest & I
felt chills when I read this-& to know that it is based on real events makes this even more amazing for me. I placed this 2nd place in my first ever contest :D.

For me (& I think to so many others) Carolyn has a real gifted pen-- she can write just about anything & truly evoke emotions within you. She writes about realities of her life & she can take you with her. So Carolyn, continue writing your gems & we'll continue enjoying them :)

Also, thank you so much for all the wonderful comments, they're truly heartfelt & that's one of the things I love about you. Hugs & love!


Details | Etheree |

Cruelest Winds

Autumn leaves released against the cruelest winds
unmoored, without  a distant shore to land
have no instruction, nor direction, 
swept up on waves of winter seas
Drifting boats without their oars
curled tight against themselves
Here, there, ...soaring where?
until they fall
and crumble
into
dust

While
I must
not stumble 
and must not curl
tight against myself
but be kin to nature...
soar the waves of winter seas
adrift in a sea of knowledge
following directions of my heart
unmoored, but with a distant shore to land
against the future of autumn's cruelest wind



__________________________________________
9/12/14  For Shadow's Contest: Double Etheree


Details | Personification |

MY POEMS

.                         ‘Violin’ was written on a soft dark velvet night,
                As I drifted - in the dreams -  of the flickering -  candle light;
           Ne’er pre-planned -  nor pondered - nor was she - pre-conceived,
        She came from deep within me, appearing  on the screen,
               As did my favorite poem - my darling ‘Cannon Lee’.

                ‘The Love of a Gentlemen’ -  and ‘Where the Heart Resides,’
                   Came from treasured memories - I tried to keep alive;
                   With words - chosen carefully - to create solidity,
                          I brought them back to life - to live eternally,
                  In vivid hues - more beautiful - than all the autumn leaves.

                   Others - fell like drops of dew  - from flying fingertips,
           That raced across the keyboard  - in hopes they wouldn’t miss,
                The chance to share the beauty - my eyes now fell upon,
           Through the kitchen window  - across the river -  and beyond,
            Where fields of liquid diamonds - glistened in the early dawn.

                    Others came in metaphors -  disguising secrets held;
                      To painful in reality - for me to ever tell. 
                ‘The Rose and the Thorn’ -  poured herself upon the page,
                     A sonnet of over-whelming grief  - rising up from hidden rage,
                         Releasing me forever - from my gilded cage.
                                           
                                                     ~~~~~

                        These poems I write - come day come night,
                                  Come candle or come neon light,
                       Come wind, come rain, come joy, come pain,
                They are the life - the Great Creator -  breathed in me;
                                         They are my breath! 
                                          They are my poetry!

                                                      ~~~~~


                               Author:  Elaine George
                               Written:  January 13th, 2010

Inspired by:  Deborah Guzzi's contest 'How Do You do It - How do you write your poems'?
PLACED: SECOND

Authors Note:  This poem was written on route to Bath, North Carolina via Ferry 
crossing.  It was written on a note-pad from the' Hampton Inn' and transferred 
to my lap-top after returning to Swansborro.


Details | Terza Rima |

December Sky

I sit, with deep contentment, by the window 
And watching the young evergreen out-shadowed
The oak tree, where love once etched on it, I sowed 

My time quietly slipped into the picture
Between my only son and his firstborn son
Between the past, the present, and the future

I have the feelings, but no words are spoken
When the words are spoken, my own feelings gone
Hidden for life, in my sagging rocking chair

I felt the late afternoon cold breeze, touching 
White-bearded face, with the autumn scent tingling 
While the golden sun has faded, into gray

I saw the charmed naked ladies, still smiling
In a bright purplish pink, for there are no snows
Soon, the land will be white, when tomorrow bows

As I eagerly wait for December sky
To glow, with sensational firecrackers’ lights
In my arms, my grandson awaken from sleep

No words spoken, but, has the smile on his face
In him I saw myself, in my father’s arm
Now I know, December’s coming, to give grace




Details | Pantoum |

Ever Turning Circle

In winter’s white, as angels cry
for early spring to warm the wind,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned.

For early spring to warm the wind,
at Valentine’s romantic calls,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls.

At Valentine’s romantic calls,
rebirth of nature’s light divine,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls,
and blossoms pastel shades recline.

Rebirth of nature’s light divine,
when day equals the hours of night,
and blossoms pastel shades recline,
to hail the queen of May in light.

When day equals the hours of night,
a summer’s sun will come to play,
to hail the queen of May in light,
we chant and sing along the way.

A summer’s sun will come to play,
so life can grow as gods decreed,
we chant and sing along the way,
with warmth and light our hunger feed.

So life can grow as gods decreed,
the rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
with warmth and light our hunger feed,
the wealth of harvest is our own.

The rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
in autumn breeze that chills the heat,
the wealth of harvest is our own,
as gold and red belies our feet.

In autumn breeze that chills the heat,
a year that ends with blessed Samhain,
as gold and red belies our feet,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign.

A year that ends with blessed Samhain,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign,
in winter’s white, as angels cry.


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