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Sad Autumn Poems | Sad Poems About Autumn

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

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Details | Quatern | |

When Winter Comes, Remember Me


When Winter comes, remember me 
beside you on lush ivory sand. 
If icy fingers beckon thee, 
arise and brush aside her hand. 

As you awake on shortening days, 
when Winter comes, remember me. 
Hoar frost just may forsake her grays 
and let wet days set colors free. 

Light snow may fall so subtly, 
pale notes on parchment sheer as sleet, 
when Winter comes. Remember me
and I shall play each shivering sheet. 

July's abundant harvest gone, 
I'm owed no Summer memory 
but hope you will, from this day on, 
when Winter comes, remember me....


Name: Lycia Harding
Date: Oct 28, 2015
Contest: Any Sad Poem
Sponsor: Broken Wings

Copyright © Lycia Harding

Details | Narrative | |

when autumn comes

here, where I walk,
confused silence swirls around my feet,
and the anguished summer leaves
are lingering limp, waiting for autumn...,
waiting to crumble and mingle with earth
drunk with the morning dew

somewhere beneath them
under the thunder
earth wears the scab of a fresh wound
in a place that will not be forgotten...
corrupt with mourning
sprouting with questions
immersed with regret
hollowed with anger
and shadowed by trees of despair

birch-bark faces, heads bent low, shadowed eyes
stone-cold voices, carried in the wind, behind disguise
while mute birds watch without a song
the leaves will decay, green goes, and the eye forgets
forget?  never....
while pawing on the hard and bitter earth
of reason, is impossible...

autumn comes
and autumn goes
I will live in hope that baffled minds
will clearly see a winter sun
and give up blaming ... who?


Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Free verse | |

in absolute darkness

Do you know what its like to be 
in absolute darkness?
I do. 
And I want to be back
on a foggy night
where winter doesn't fall too far
the only thing you can see 
is a distant street light
yellow and gold
glowing from the distance
the wet leaves that fell from the trees 
fill the night 
with a dewy smell
I turn the key
bright headlights
flood the road
one line, two lines, 
they all combine
into a white blur keeping me 
from crossing into the abyss
I could drive forever 
I want to be gone again
back to my home.

Copyright © Amy Kramer

Details | Heroic Couplets | |

Saint Blackheart

Saint Blackheart walks the Autumn streets and smiles with diamond eyes;
   She's well-aware of what you think, but listens to your lies.
Confess your deepest fantasies or never look her way --
   She's free with random kindness, though she won't have much to say.

Saint Blackheart seeks the shadows for the secrets they impart.
   Her life's a patchwork puzzle made with jagged shards of art --
Impressionistic paintings on a canvas dipped in red;
   She dances like a demon for the angels in her head.

Saint Blackheart loves the twilight and the elemental rain;
   She'll stand and watch you suffer, yet she senses all your pain.
A soft, Franciscan echo making up a primal scream
   Can hurtle from her crimson lips and dart from dream to dream.

Saint Blackheart lives in solitude among the ancient trees --
   You'll find her there within the mist, but never on her knees.
Her hands will offer nothing which is not her own to give;
   And though you wish to die in peace, she may just let you live.

Saint Blackheart will not weep with you or wipe away your tears,
   Yet she may catch their crystal hue and treasure it for years.
She'll lay a little flower on a long-forgotten grave --
   A tribute to the tortured soul she never tried to save.

Copyright © M. Teresa Blaylock

Details | Rhyme | |

In The Mood Of Autumn

Summer sleeps lazyly in the sunset
When Autumn takes the lead slowly
The clouds creep sadly in a grey velvet
And the thrush sings low and lonely

I hear rustle ot death in the bare forest
And the sound of the wailing dying wind
I see motion upon the lake.the deepest
A dismal sonata that life is going to sing

A hazy mind was beholding that show of emptiness
In a state of despair and ''gone are the happy days''
when the  swallow breaks the time in broad loneliness
and the lake takes its image in the sunset rays

The life of Autumn means '' FALL'' and sadness
When you live your last days in the month of October
Melancholia.dullness.loss and more madness
If more want to live.i's now or never


Copyright © True Feeling

Details | I do not know? | |


We once walked along together, 
In the morning, by the sea.  
Two young hearts rejoicing sweetly, 
Hearts as happy as could be.  	

She began to hear strange voices 
Speaking words I could not hear.
Voices from her inner sanctum--
Words not meant for human ear.

Soon her mind began to hearken
To the voices from within,
And a heart that once sang sweetly,
Never sang so sweet again.

I remember, in September,
On a golden, autumn day, 
My true love was not beside me
When I strolled beside the bay.

I had searched, but could not find her
For our early morning stroll,
And my heart was beating slowly--
There was anguish in my soul.

Then they brought the tragic tidings;
That they'd pulled her from the sea.
Unheard voices had seduced her--
And took my very life from me.

Phantom voices in the midnight
Had aroused her from her sleep,
She'd surrendered to their calling,
When they beckoned from the deep.

Copyright © William Robinson

Details | Verse | |


Another year has gone, it just slipped away,
Without notice or warning or eulogies to say.
On purpose, I barely register its passing…only crack
A bitter smile;
A half-raised, quizzical eyebrow, maybe, laced with a brief 
Sense of a long forgotten once close friend
Giving up the ghost.

From starved tree branches the leaves tumble down,
Sheets of rain guillotine on this dirty old town.
I watch the autumn gale axing…havoc from
The frozen North.
I'm digging graves for memories, perhaps, meticulously fast,
For they really need interment
As they are the living dead.

Funny, it's the first time ever, I realise I'm getting old,
The heart misses beats and the room feels always cold.
I see the lines etch on my face…gritted warp
Of aching bones.
And try as I might to shove longing and regret back into
Their woodworm coffins,
It does not keep the pain at bay
When the past craves resurrection.

Copyright © Tony Bush

Details | Rhyme | |

He Can't Tell Her Now

He is playing in school
Acting like a fool
Little girl makes his heart go Wow!!
He is kind of shy
She's the apple of his eye
But he can't tell her now.
It is a few years later
And he starts to date her
She fills his dreams somehow
He wants her to stay
To never go away
But he can't tell her now.
It is the secret of his life
He wants her for his wife 
He would take that final vow
Though the years go by so fast
He knows his love will last
But he can't tell her now.
Now in the Autumn of his years
He realizes his fears
That life has past them by somehow
He knows his love will stand
As he touches her cold and lifeless hand
But he can't tell her now.

    Of all the emotions we go through in life, the saddest is regret.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr.

Details | I do not know? | |


              Dedicated to
          Robbie Philly and Boo
         (Robbie DOD 10/13/1986)

  In past autumn seasons there were we,
Parents Bob and Jan kids Kim and Robbie.
   As a family we'd roll up our sleeves
  Tackle job of raking and piling leaves.

  Together we would work while having fun.
 Admiring leaf piles when raking was done.
We'd call our dogs Philly and her pup Boo,
 Encouraging leaps into the high piles too.

  Dogs dived in and then the four of us too
 Leaping as one Bob Jan Rob Kim Philly and Boo.
 We'd disappear deep then we'd leap in the air
   Scattering those leaves to who knows where!

  Leaves are memories pressed deep in my mind
   As scrapbook pages of a much happier time.
  Autumn comes each year and when the leaves fall
   Think of Rob, Philly and Boo wish I could
             again hug them all!!!

Copyright © Janet Grace

Details | Diamante | |



                                            Red, yellow, orange
                                        Crackling gloss and color
                                 Leaves dancing beautifully in the air
                    Cold, clear air a quiet morning before the sun has risen
                          Small streams are converted to large waterfalls
                                   A melancholy goodbye to summer
                                                A silent prayer


A-L  Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen

Details | I do not know? | |

The Loyalty Bond

How kind of you to think of me
On this beautiful autumn day
Were your thoughts regarding your loyalty?
Or were they thoughts rehearsed to display?

Such a powerful thing, this loyalty bond
Something we all inevitably yearn
A bond of trust and fidelity
A bond which we all must earn

Many will take it lightly
Most will not understand
Some will honor and embrace it
Yet the majority will heartily disband

I laugh at the thought of the loyalty bond
The yearning of a bond which does not exist
Its amazing how all of us will long for
An illusion so easily dismissed

Copyright © Stacy Stiles

Details | Acrostic | |

Reflections: Midlife Crisis

P     aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face,
A     cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race,
N     othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace,
I      nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase,
C     hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Couplet | |

In high definition

In high definition... There is an old oak tree in our backyard. This old oak limbs weep like a willow. It branches out to the stars. The moon effervescent shines above. During the winter, the moss hangs low. I see the wind blow through its leaves in autumn. There is an old oak in our backyard Where a widow sits beneath weeping over love lost. The dawn has broken. The dew is high. This old oak is well defined. She has limbs that reach high in the sky. The sun photosynthesis makes each leaf shine. Her depth is sublime. This old oak is part of home. Many visitors she knows as a widower rests before he moves on. This old oak tree stands tall As a City's landmark. |__________________________________________________| Penned on November 22, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

Details | Free verse | |

The Autumn Affect

There's something unspecific about the autumn nights
A certain shade of color that uplifts my inner child's eyes
Beside a cashmere moon Venus and Jupiter shine bright
Complimented by a sea of blinking infinite twilight
The scent of burning oak lingers in the air from home made fires
Reminiscent of a time when this man was just a child
Careless and so free to dream and any dream to live
Like feathers floating across a field carried by the wind
As a gentle breeze blows through the leaves shivering delightful gloom
Unlike flowers of springtime the disheveled autumn vibrance bloom
Leaves crackle beneath my feet along the skeleton tree path
Where I try to find my peace or a song to make me laugh
The air is so much crisper and also soothing when I breathe it in
Underneath a starry sky and brighter constellations of Heaven
Amidst the trail I pass a lovely couple holding hands
While their children run aside frolicking in a playful dance
An old man and his wife admire the view from a wooden bench 
With smiles on their face as if nostalgia is still their closest friend
Its these specific autumn affects that bring me sorrows and joy
Reminding me of all theses things Ive wanted as a man since I was a little boy 
Its times like these that I wish I wasn't always so alone
Because I would light an fire with my family and call it home

Copyright © Jesse James Forster

Details | Lyric | |

Debutant's Lament

Summertime…they say the livin’ is easy,                                                
Flowers growin’ and the sun’s sittin’ high.                                    
They say your Daddy’s rich and your Momma’s so good lookin’;               
So hush now pretty baby…there's no reason to cry. 

One of these days, you’re gonna rise up smilin’.
Take a look around and think you’ve got it all.
You’ll have your Momma’s looks, all your Daddy’s money,
And all the boys in town at your beck and call.

Summertime…Yes, the livin’ is so easy,
Laughin’, singin’, havin’ so much fun.
No time to stop and think about your future
And what life will bring when your Summer’s done.

‘Cause Summertime, it don’t last forever.
Breezes cool and the leaves begin to fall;
And in your quiet moments, you'll sit and wonder
How you came so far, but have no love at all.

Summertime....They said the livin’ was easy; 
Ain’t it sad how fast the good times fly; 
And now, your Momma’s looks and all your Daddy’s money
Another sweet, warm Summer’s day they cannot buy. 

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Rhyme | |

The Wound

When my mother died
My craving eyes rained
And tormented soul cried
Blood sucked and energy drained

The sky fell, the sun eclipsed
It was a horrifying dark day
The fragrant breeze turned into easterly wind
O God! Orphaned at the age of twelve, why say

The spear of loneliness pierced my heart
Causing deep bleeding wound
Pointed at me was misfortune’s dart
All my hopes and aspirations drowned

Seasons came and seasons went
In the desert of heart autumn never changed
Gardens were filled with bloom’s scent
The butterflies with colors artfully arranged

My heart remained a symbol of despair
No one ever shared my grief
My cancerous wound alone to bear
I searched and searched but no relief

(Winner in the Member Contest of Destroyer Poet judged on 6-20-2012)

Copyright © Mohammad Yamin

Details | Rhyme | |

Autumn Is For Lovers

The summer's almost over
The days wane shorter week by week
The hills have shed their clover
And, the sun his warm mystique.

Each month becomes less weary
The pain fades each passing day
The future seems less dreary
But, this awful yearning stays.

My music fills the silent void
Where your voice hung like heather
But of course, I must avoid
The songs we danced together.

My walks help ease the mourning
Like, leaving bad thoughts behind
But only in the early morning
Before the couples walk entwined.

I walk through most of the year
Through summer, winter, and spring
But never in autumn, I fear
My heart just can't take somethings!

I must never think of autumn
Not since our last adieu'
For, if I ever thought of autumn
It would break my heart in two!

For autumn is for lovers
And is also when we met
A time to enjoy another
And, not for love's regret.

Spring is past encroaching
The summer has gone, and then...
Winter is fast approaching
That dead season, my life begins.

                            Timothy I. Brumley

Copyright © Timothy Brumley

Details | Classicism | |

Flight of Fall

As I lay one sullen autumn morn
on pearl dew turf with the day unborn
staring at the grey grimacing sky
with the mood and moment not quite high
sepulchral static wherever I looked
when my dreary dizzy gaze was hooked
at a lone leaf's death-descent down
to join its wilted kin on ground
then a sudden silent slithering breeze
deprived me of my warmth and ease
and the disturbed withered shroud of Fall
hustled revived in a rustling brawl
hurled and curled in the fading mist
till the whispering winds chose to desist
but Nature lies dead once again
until the wind resumes,retrieves restrain
and I know this flight of life is brief
for I'm none other than a fallen leaf.

Copyright © Aseem Alagh

Details | Rhyme | |

A Homeless Man's Christmas Wish

Christmas day is coming soon
I can hear the little drummer boys beat 
As I sleep under a stack of newspapers
At my home here on the street
I have no shade from the summer heat
No shelter from a spring storm
When autumn and winter roll around
I have no blanket to keep me warm
I have no one to talk to 
No doctor to keep me well
My life is like the seventh circle
Of an everlasting hell
I have no feast on Thanksgiving
On my birthday, I have no cake
Most nights as I sleep in my concrete bed
I pray and hope I won't wake
I think about the man I used to be
The one that died so long ago
Now all that's left is this scruffy, filthy creature
Who I don't even know
Now that Christmas is here again
I pray to the good Lord above
For a gift that most don't appreciate 
Filled with lots of happiness and love
I'm not talking about material things
I can get by without any of that
All I want is a house and a family
Complete with a dog and  a cat
I wish every single Christmas season
That my dear, sweet Lord would send me
A beautiful family with warm, smiling faces
Sipping hot chocolate around a Christmas tree
We would have a most amazing feast
A rack of lamb tied up with a bow
Then we would all get bundled up
And go caroling in the snow
Oh, how glorious that would be
To have a family and a few friends
To have people who love me
Even after this life ends
God please hear my prayers
And answer them if you can
Just grant one simple Christmas wish
To this old homeless man

Copyright © Abby Lovern

Details | Ballad | |


I am the face of misery
My life, a dissonance of autumn and spring,
The years are written in the same
Lugubrious, nostalgic grey
How can it be the author to blame?
I cannot scream this all away…
Burn nor Bleed this all away…
To Death I am Ordained

Lacuna ever growing
With Velvet sheets of life flowing
Aeons apart of my "royalty"
Under the mask the cannot see...
Can you dispel this tragedy:
Antigone - Epiphany failing

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,

No words of hope
No words of hate
Do I have Lenore to send to me:
The sordid child of Thebes
Caught In the longest nightmare
life - the slowest way to die

I know this is my life 
But I'm not under control
under the mask the will see
Just Another Human

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,

Can you dispel my life; this tragedy?
Can you control the storm in my mind?
I'm asking you: can you rid me
Of The Curse of Antigone?

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen

Details | Lyric | |

Scarlet Moons and Indian Suns

Written August 29, 2013

She could have had my son
As we'd spell our names as one
On scattered ocean shores
Beneath that Indian sun

I loved my ma
And I loved her well
I loved my pa
And that musty smell

I hope to see them some day soon
I hope to see them smiling too
This Earth they left a bit too soon
Much thanks unto the scarlet moon

Some day well all be joined as one
Under scarlet moons and Indian suns

I love my family
How I miss this feeling
Of constant embrace
Awaiting at my feet

So come and pray for rain
To wash away our pain
Before the winter stains
What autumn left to drain

I hope to see them some day soon
I hope to see them smiling too
This Earth they left a bit too soon
Much thanks unto the scarlet moon

Some day well all be joined as one
Under scarlet moons and Indian suns

Copyright © Brandon Carter

Details | Lyric | |

Ride The Wind

Written February 24, 2012

One too many times
Our love has been unkind
To the rigors and chills of the snow
The streets they meet
Intersecting the heat
But the cold will blow without heed

To rekindle the flame
Must sound quite insane
But it's all I have left in this world
Yet to feed from the hand
Of another's demands
Could lead to the start of the fall

Ride the wind
Wherever it goes
Don't ask it questions
You don't want to know
The wind will carry you home

Copyright © Brandon Carter

Details | Rhyme | |

The Sacrifice of the Forest

haven't laughed much lately
the sound just doesn't hold the same meaning
not when the trees taunt me by dropping their leaves
making me think it's alright to sit quietly, bleeding

death comes so easily for them
and i sit watching each fall with such envy
my autumn has come and gone, and I'm still here
the leaves never have to stay long enough to feel this empty

i sit and imagine myself as one of them
tired and weak, falling, floating, letting go
not having to explain why i couldn't stand up to the wind
everyone understands that I'm just making room for others to grow

letting my life into the soil, finally serving a purpose
what a sense of accomplishment that would be
i can almost taste the anticipation i would feel while falling
knowing that more deserving ones will be able to live because of me

the human existence is far more complicated however
and i find myself staring at the forest in shame
knowing that their death is more noble and self sacrificing
than this self centered depression that i should just try and tame

I manage to peel my mind off the forest floor
amidst all the martyred leaves i wanted so desperately to become
i breathe in the life they have given up and decide
that i can't leave with so much yet to be done

Copyright © Joshua Aguire

Details | Haiku | |

Barren Scene Seen

Barren branches show Invisible camouflage Leafless season seen .

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Free verse | |

Forget me nots

I stood in the midst of a meadow, 
as an autumn breeze swayed its flaxen hair. 
The last  flush of sun was giving way 
to a peach blossoming evening sky, 
readying the day to lay and replenish,
beneath the strokes of night.

As it unfolded around me, 
I watched with hungry eyes, 
as visions of you etched upon a lowering cloud, 
slipped by in outstretched shadows,
out of reach of my trembling hand; 
for dreams still held you captive within its grasp.

I held myself with tired arms,
repeating sighs, choked on sadness,
as my heart grew gossamer thin; 
another tear stained page stored in memory;
painful forget-me-nots.


Copyright © T.Nicole Williams

Details | Imagism | |

Something good

The smell of coffee: hot and bitter in the cold winter night 
With the rhythm in the left hand and the rhyme in the right, 
He wrote a poem in his secret pocket,
A wistful star like a speedy rocket
Ready to leave this planet intense blue
In search of other traces of life anew.
He remembered after mother had died,
In the cold touch ,stalagmites and stalactites cried.
Father and son felt a strong taste for sweets.
As in the sunset, the blind boatman meets
With an awkward touch the water`s ring
But generally they needn`t to eat anything
For a while they rested an extraordinary team:
Father insistently (sometimes boring) told him
All his recollections:childhood,war and the rest…
All muscles and teeth pressed hot, like ice on the crest.
The son learnt them by heart, and later
He would retell them to father, even better…
One was on duty to wash the dishes;
The other tried to follow his wishes…

Their only joy was to read and read and read…
One had to cook at home ,and to bake the bread
In a bread factory:He was happy even when he was sad.
He could recognize each bread: All his loafs were bad.
He was like Chaplin in “New Times”.
He was speaking in figures and rhymes.  
He wore a monk beard and father was much more younger.
Looking through the window: grey hunger and anger …

At the weekend, he used to ask his father 
About the favourite meal, but rather
He would find a surprise the next day.
Each day was windy winter and grey…

Father had the same touching answer:”Something good”.
In the strange interference ,water and fire ,one was rude.
Solitude  was their common friend stealing in like a lizard,                                       
But, in the afternoon they played sweeping their courtyard.
They had leaves in autumn and snow in the winter.
The sky was grey without sun, the clouds were bitter.
Father was counting the leaves, in the old horizon
The son was painting the days ,in the cold horizon.

The war with the falling down leaves fighting hard 
With red faces like an inveterate drunkard .
And years after his father met his final hope,
The son would stop in front of  the sweets shop , 
Ready to buy recollections as Christmas tree sweets.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa

Details | Light Poetry | |



empty roads which speaks
I've been there
sides of the street
under the leafless trees
waiting for him....

feride cool

Copyright © Feride SERIN

Details | Free verse | |


It makes no sense to 
Withdrawals what left with yesterday
Anonymous love...
We await the return of the dead,
Wondering what is it on the other side!!
Yet.. Nobody comes, and nobody speaks to us,
Silence overnight,
Without croaking frogs, without sparkling stars..
Only an abstract panel, 
Where the sky with the earth join in the line of sight
Hunger for beauty,
An explosive eager attached to the shoulders of gods,
While funeral prayers embrace yellow autumn leaves.. 
Then I asked you: do you remember when we infiltrated beneath the scrolls of time?
Ambigous destiny awaits my love
Oh, I got my soul in after life...

Copyright © Hassoon Hijazi

Details | Blank verse | |


I have never 
Actually seen all this,
I just fantasize 
In theme parks and pubs,
During an Alumni picnic,
Or while exiting bookshops.

Dreamland concoctions,
Warehoused in letters 
After mundane names
Inherited from 
A not so erudite father,
I would have the blood pumped in,
What goes out
Must, after all be replaced.

Lines and phrases
Twisted through history
This way or that,
Like autumn leaves
In a tornado of dust,
On a sunny day.

Sounds tell me
That life has woken up,
Time for cotton wool
In kidney trays,
Time for squirrels 
To gather nuts.

They will open
This sarcophagus
After me, beyond me,
Let the wisp escape the willow,

They will gather dust.

Copyright © Ashok Niyogi

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Tragic Feather

Oh, tragic feather what is thy tragedy
No longer freedom gay or certian loft
How is this thy new translation
From a majesty, unto a wing thou hath mighty dropped

Were thou thus, shunned, cast away 
Or merely, cut out or off
As limb from downward spiral angel
Perhaps, a troubled finch or insanity in wayward hawk

Lie, if thou must, be it amidst a deafening silence, lonesome soft
But, I plead, please tell me fallen feather, what hath befallen thee
Thy tuft to ne’er evermore touch again
What life should be, warmth of the summer's breeze

Sleep, sleep now 'neath the alley's gutter greys 
Catching Weeping Willows damning drops
Adrift as the drowning lily dying
In seas of the myriad scattered rots

An accomplice I shall say, within a winter's willing white
And alas, buried ordinary in this doth the corpse delight
Far beneath the crowds held at bay and forever lost
Now thou hath become the naked grove of wicker and then...
                                   the more of naked souless crops

Copyright © Michael Smith