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Age Autumn Poems | Age Poems About Autumn

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

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Details | Light Poetry | |



A winding path blanketed 
by a cornucopia of colours 
Thick rich leaves 
drying to hues of golds, and browns
A sparse canopy arching over the path 
dapples the ground
Diffused hopscotch patterns 
spotlight the grass
Birds darting through blackened hedgerows
Callings of panicked discovery 
Scuffling in the undergrowth 
forest life      comes alive...
A low sun for shaded eyes  
peeks pulled down.....
Autumnal clothing 
matching an autumn mood
Damp mulched leaves deep trodden
breaking down to food
To feed the ever needy roots of the great oaks
Trees slimy with moss
Shiny damp with the cloying dense mist 
rising from the forest floor
We've walked this path a million times
marvelled     never the same
a tapestry of shifting colours 
the autumn odour of breakdown and decay
My hand held firm       
we reminisce 
think about the time to come.....
when we will never walk.... this walk again
we sigh,  
this wonder is      now
a captured memory 
to be shared later   
And enjoyed!

Copyright © Ian Guyler

Details | Rhyme | |

Autumn Erupts, Colors Splash

Autumn Erupts, Colors Splash
              (Red Number Two)

Dark red colors spring into view
 Autumn feast wraps eager trees
 Winter issues early pleas
Cold breezes form long overdue!

Gold springs in the season dance
 Nature awaits more vibrant hues
 As Winter sends racing clues
All a certainty, nothing by chance!

Green races far into a distant past
 Life braces for a drastic change
 Colors splash , such varied range
Some wish, season to forever last!

Life births so much scenic pleasure
We each pick those we most treasure.

Robert  J. Lindley


Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Lyric | |

While You Sleep

While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly 
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.

Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel, 
And so before it I choose to kneel.

I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.

I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.

I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.

My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.

Copyright © Kristopher Higgs

Details | Rhyme | |

Memories on Branches

How did a cherry kiss? Bitter flower petals with sweet pistils.
So laden they act as halos while we breathe the love
in a pink hollow, silence sounding like taste, acting like epistle
to hold this moment in a silvery image, like moon, or  dove
low, low, a bowl formed while sunshine flickers above.

Chains of yellow petals hang over our deck, the leaves hands--
offer welcome resting branch, our sheltered home.
Seeds follow close, fragile like beans, hard case to feed the land
crawl before God, they say, be grateful as we weed and stir loam.
Together seeds and flowers and hands make a life a poem.

Awaiting the sumac, the flame at summer's ending is fruitless
we've passed the feathering, the pimping of red underneath bristle
the deer horn softness crawling out in oddest places in a mess
lining the sand pond, above the purpled iris, the pestle
of stone and sun, no rain to bring down sumac's fiery trestle.

Vulturous crows squawk and fight the ring-billed sea gulls
waiting, one in the bared hollow hands of the cottonwood
the other fat-bellied and waddling after rain finally dulls
we're under hoodies,  under shivers, our neighborhood
waits the pinking and mossing, will it unfurl new wood?

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper

Details | Carpe Diem | |

A Wife

My grey haired neighbor was right

Bimbos touch your body

it makes a good feel

a wife touches your soul

and you're never the same man;


while we crossed the thin trunk

across the stream

I could not help

but notice how you squeezed

your face in panic

It gave me an assurance

for you'll remain beautiful

even in a wrinkled body

friends say I exaggerate your beauty

that's because they've never

seen you cry

and they have never been on a

lonely path with just you

I've seen you think

and I saw myself in your actions

My grey haired neighbor was right

love is energy on its own.

Copyright © Mawunyo Adjei

Details | Rhyme | |

Silence And Serenity Are Both Golden

Silence And Serenity Are Both Golden

When your brain cries out for that very sweet release,
from mind pains given by a darkness thus embolden.
Let bright shine from the color of Jason's fleece,
remind you that serenity and silence are both golden!

Turn off the noise , race right on to your comfy bed,
set the stage for a quiet, restful time for dreaming.
First consider a nightcap to soothe the pounding head,
acknowledging the power of good whiskey so redeeming!

Be not dismayed if silence races not to join so fast,
most good things teach us how to plan and just wait.
Greatest blessings are those sought that truly last,
best to cook the food right before loading the plate!

Life, music may be great but often silence is golden,
say your prayers but do not wait until its too late.
Remember to a higher power you are rightly beholden,
ask for silence to soothe your soul and quietly wait!

When your brain cries out for that very sweet release,
from mind pains given by a darkness thus embolden.
Let bright shine from the color of Jason's fleece,
remind you that silence and serenity are both golden!

Robert J. Lindley, 08-09-2015

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Rhyme | |

This is me

My knees were the things that 
kept me up and my skin is my 
cutting board my eyes are the 
rain clouds to the fire running 
down my arms and my heart is 
the fire place that keeps me 
burning so calm

Copyright © brittney lopez

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 | Imagism | |

A Farmer's Eyes and a Sailor's Shadow

A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast

Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds

Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are

Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs

Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens

#Poem by +Gokul Alex

Copyright © Gokul Alex

Details | Free verse | |

If I Shall Grow Old 2K13

If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.

Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr.

Details | Quatrain | |

Old Age

The autumn of life comes upon sinner, saint or sage
          Holding the soul in withering body’s bondage

The birds of beauty, charm and vigor long flown
              What a profound calamity is man’s old age

Copyright © Mohammad Yamin

Details | Free verse | |


Abundance of life
Home to extinction

Copyright © Smail Poems

Details | Free verse | |

The Door is Always Open

Things get bad, then they get good again.
You can write yourself angry.
You can write yourself sick.
But never
should you write yourself sorry.

The world, to me, is many things:
A canvas, a movie, a place to store
everything you are and will ever be,
but never a bell jar.

As long as your hands can shake
and your voice can quiver,
never close the door.

Love the ground under your feet,
and your only sadness 
will be that a blanket of sky 
can't keep off the cold. 

Smile with every breath you take, 
and you'll realize that, 
no matter how much you weep,
you will never fill an ocean.

Look inside your heart:
There's answer there.
You'll find,
deep in an oblivion of night,
there is a light somewhere.

It may not be much light,
but it's brighter than darkness.
Follow it.

If you seek, you will find 
yourself always involved in 
and as long as that door never closes,
whatever something will be enough.

I promise.

Copyright © jes russick

Details | Rhyme | |

All That's Sure Is the Season

Approaching the winter of my years,
Never yet found my reason.
So much laughter, so many tears,
Yet all that’s sure is the season.

To few, all my days;
So many spent simply breezin’.
Should I regret their waste
When all that’s sure is the season?

What’s it been about anyway?
Perhaps there is no reason.
Did so want to learn the truth,
But all that’s sure is the season.

Always tried to consider others.
‘Tis much easier to be pleasin’. 
How many are my friends?
All that’s sure is the season

Felt the urge to make my mark.
Fame or fortune was my reason.
Fear of failure was my tether,
For all that’s sure is the season.

A man of Christian faith,
Hope God finds me pleasin’.
Fair chance tho’, I’ll go to Hell,
Yes, all that’s sure is the season.

So what of value will I leave?
Hearts and souls I may be teasin’
With too few words too few will read,
While all that’s sure is the season.

Approaching the winter of my years, 
Never yet found my reason;
But thank God for each extra day I search.
Still, all that’s sure is the season.

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Free verse | |

Rakes and Flames

As the dawn expells its authoritive cast; they awake, but are abandoned. They
turn--but their friend the sun ignores  and they understand.   They commune
their relationship and part with their memories;   and sigh.

They say their good-byes in a tone of fullfilment, but aface their anxieties
toward the skies for hope; but are denied. A clouded sky brings a chill in the 
air and a rustling of rakes and flames. 

Old as hell, written in HS for publication, circa 1971 by me. When I was young in the 60's in Ohio, we burned leaves in our backyard; sometimes our household trash too. You had to be me to be there GV. Count me in as last place. Take care.  

Copyright © Dave Collins

Details | Lyric | |



                             The Apple PASTURE

Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.


Copyright © JAY JOHNSON

Details | Blank verse | |

Mirrors Age

As morn braces against the emptiness of night
And cock crows echo in waves of yellow light

Fallen mixed colors brush along the coarseness’ of stone
As fall would have them, these leaves of gold

Age as time moving swiftly through coveted hope
Laid far along twisted roads, yearning there and then
to be not parted here, have alas a distance near

But what of it, who so best to have it, more!

I tire now on thinking further, 
and would love to simply settle
On piles of leaves bright along the way
To answer no more
to things that must stay

‘Cause with any wisdom here,
I would have experienced it there
On piles of leaves I will stay, and rest a time 
before another day

And should it be the last of things, then so be it,
for I would have had 
what it was before its last,
and what more can I ask -
to take on roads we can not stand

Copyright © abel olivencia

Details | Nonet | |

brush of fall

the old maple has grown tall with age
its branches are layered in green
little leaves that turn upward
to drink a gentle rain
its roots twist and turn
beneath earth's dirt
they bask in
September's air touches much like death
the tree shivers beneath her breath
and strips itself free of leaves
as they dance in her wind
colorful splashes
yellow, orange,
red... turn

Copyright © Sandra Adams

Details | Rhyme | |

Moon War

This is as simple as it gets
The truth displayed on blank pages
Lies on the written ones
For you, for me- the wages
From fighting this war are meager
And it seems that we are eager
To leave this hole we are in. 
Can we write a new story?
Nothing is happening but nothing
Can prevent this unbecoming glory.
Winning was never an option we
Had considered in the first place. 
But to actually have victory 
Would be kind of the one we call fate. 
This is as complicated as it gets
Food turns to drink in moonlight
But still we cross our fingers and
Hope that a beam could be our spotlight.

Copyright © Juli- Michelle

Details | Free verse | |

Silver Tongue

His fingers left blood on the strings 

but, come time to walk away he hadn’t really learned anything.

Course and dried brushes sit atop the rubbish,

His mind held a perfection too delicate for his clumsy hands to create.

He opened his mouth to sing like a jay but, instead of notes it was rust that fell out. Part of the wear and tear of early adulthood.

But then, this same boy picked up a pen and found some paper. The pen in his hand felt as natural his own bones and he began to write.

He wrote every tear

He scribed every star

He built towers from mountains with every line

High enough that the angel’s just might hear them.

He made pages for chapters of his life that could make those seraphim weep sapphire tears.

He could write the wind blowing across the nape of your neck in Autumn

And make you feel the chill on your skin.

He could articulate the sad beauty of a lover’s quarrel that ends in tears

If they cry, it makes it all more real.

He documents the history of a war inside himself that will never end.

The loss and the gain,

But not those of monetary nature.

When life begins to scream around him

All he must do to silence it is to put it in a stanza.

The boy’s tongue can pave the way for good intentions, and we all know those can fall South. He finds strength. And with this Strength a power.

Finally the boy knew his gift. But how is he meant to use it and who will truly listen to the personal strands of his soul he ties together with punctuation?

And now that he has tasted the pleasure of his power, will that be enough?

Copyright © Alexander Schwartz

Details | Free verse | |


The keys rattled gently in his pocket.
Gradual jumps like the ocean,
Peaking with every heart
Or every step.
The music was in sleep
Allowing silence for thought
To contemplate on the sun,
Of this clean, clear October.

He sunk his eyes into the core
Of pale and fresh above,
Ember, his numbed head rocked from
Slow and forced breathing,
Suppressing the smell of deep,
Deep purity
Yet conscious of the high brick wall
Where the wind taps
Like a faded voice sighs through a lost keyhole.

He was greeted distantly
By early-anthem families,
Walking the dogs
Or singing with linked wrists;
Sipping at the last, smoked bowls,
And the circling of the roads.
How they would pass,
With a stranger’s recognition
And mutter as they retreated;
 “His hair is thinning!
His eyes are fixed, like
The bolt in a crossbow.
His arms are depleting
For slow, heavy breathing...
Yet his eyes are fixed.”

And sometimes they pass alone;
A little too close
With their gaze separate.
Their tight coats
And pocket smokes,
While they sway to poisons.
How a smile can turn damp
At the thought of past brothers.
And how a passing car can sigh,
With misunderstood pity.

The lamplight’s warming,
The Gutter dweller’s dawning,
The dented camber’s pouring,
The rugged throat with it’s sweet inhale
For the decisive steps
And the vivid gold Yale.

Dream in encumbered times,
Where the destination is a home to rest.
And you walk a shadow amongst the binds,
That break the folds of your armoured vest.
For my ear is a raven,
For my feet are hooves,
For I make a thousand strides,
Within these tightened shoes,
And my arms are not depleting,
And my slow and heavy breathing,
Is only the product of the season,
And will soon falter for my reason,
And my hair can never thin,
While the lamplights never dim,
And my strides will form the door hinge,
That stands so high across the fringe,
And I find lavender in the bins,

While my empty pockets.

Copyright © Aiden Asoll

Details | Classicism | |

Thanksgiving Water Drops

The wind was moving into the mist of heaven, 
it is a fog of light streaming from down below, 
in its eyes of realization,
into the unknown of the bliss and sound waves
echoing to be into the vastness 
of the light blue sky, and beyond the enormous
bright stream of shadowy rainfalls.

Copyright © Brigett Hurley

Details | Rhyme | |

long days of the past

i speak trouble yes
i speak trouble
late night rumble
very quiet mumble
summertime symptoms
slipped in subtle
suddenly i want to see
the warmth right before
the crunching of some autumn leaves
too hot at noon, makes the warmest evenings
writing on walls, illegal to draw
remind me of nights, all fear was small
bliss and inner peace
abundant as dinner treats
everyday i made away
with darker skin, and dirty feet
heart disease not bittersweet
park and freeze like little creeps
when passerby, might quantify
activities, helping secrets to keep
no such trouble yes
no such trouble
all the wonder, many lovers
i wrestled and played with shovels
pedestrian and landlord
i rummaged through the rubble
pasta without sauce, and gallons of tap water
vaporizing sacred flowers
that smell of exotic jungles
worries never entering
my vision like a tunnel
fleeting as a hummingbird
never ashamed to cuddle
never new a softer word
never cared for struggle
running free to paradise
cause my license priced had doubled
delighted to ride a bike
rain reason not to huddle
traveled all i sought to see
carpool or a shuttle
impermanence just a word
pouring down the funnel

Copyright © Davin Payne

Details | Free verse | |

Summer Passage

            Summer Passage

Bones burnt white and crisp on deserts open hell of summer
Eyes turn painful red in sun’s fierce and punishing glare
But children only know the surf and blue rolling waves
Cool breezes, endless play, and warmth of friends
Sky and sand take over 
Become the blue and white of life
These things pass into tranquility in slow autumnal flow
On gentle orange and yellow spiraling leaves at leisure
Drifting, tumbling as in sleep, with no particular place to go
Autumn catches every fragrance of the harvest too
Lavender and pumpkin tell the truth
The moon grows large as we pick every plant
September, October and November forget the past
As they sleep beneath the green serene 
Of summer's grass

Created on 8/30/14 for Summer’s End Poetry contest


Copyright © Earl Schumacker

Details | Free verse | |

Cold War

A series of hello’s, and only that;
We are each other’s familiar stranger.
Those glances queer yet unsuspecting,
My soul begins to wonder-
My thoughts, they dance and wander.

A careful denial to a careless disregard;
Surrounded by a wall t’was built amiss.
A trap in a non-existent black hole
A suffocating sorrow-
A melancholic hollow.

Your deep-set eyes and glimmering iris
Don’t miss the warm facade
Of a beautiful countenance
But a sombrous ghost I long to know-
My curious and subtle soul.

Your perfect golden smile,
And then, presto, it’s gone.
The mystery of your avoidance
And the dreaded war of silence-
The war that’s non-existent.

Oblivion is no excuse to ignore each other’s presence
But still confined for decades
Behind the walls we put up
For our souls to only converse in silence
As we are a series of hello’s and only that.

Copyright © Cheri Teng

Details | Rhyme | |

Autumn leaves

in strength’s aging wane
as joints ache with pain
lies a heart still and pensive
beneath hands folded restive

and as thoughts ponders life
against a calendar of strife
the eyes brim with feelings weary
as vision fades in circles teary

but then as memory plays
sepia thoughts of golden days
the heart smiles so ever faintly
on moments blessed and loved and saintly

of children playing bubbling loud
screaming pleasure laughing shout
in back-yard pools splashed wetly blue
as red stringed kites on breezes flew

Copyright © Daniel Human

Details | Free verse | |

The Darkest Place

The fall comes early to frost covered souls
bound in damp, worn wool blankets
barefoot wanderings
over cold birch branches, sticks,
crack covered ground

thorns, thistles, briars
scratch, pierce the skin
tug at the coverings
lay bare
the naked heart

to face the hollow cold
without purpose
only a ceaseless longing

Copyright © Jack Bowman

Details | ABC | |

The spinster and sycophant

How could a man be so cruel, i was thinking at deep
How could one make her weep , i was thinking at deep
she was a  spinster,,and it was all she made for her
the abiogenesis of emotions never grew as she met a  sycophant
it was all abnegated as she was a shrew,
 while he was a taciture with a misogynistic heart
 She was all fastidious but he always had a belief ...Nothing is IMPREGNABLE ENOUGH


Details | Free verse | |

Beauty, to Teresa Brewster Teresa Brewster

I see you in the rising sun
In the glamour of it's setting
You wander with the lonely butterfly
sucking nectar from the open flowers in my heart's garden

I hear your voice 
In the sunbird's song
In the highlife tunes
My heart sings

I smell your presence
In my favorites food's aroma 
In the sweet scented herbs
In the first mass incense

Anything beautiful
Anything appealing
Anything pleasant
Rings out your name

Copyright © Sarpong Kumankoma

Details | Free verse | |

Entangled In Grief-Stricken Questions

Soon the autumn will come And the winter too. As I lay counting my days - I wonder, will this autumn be my last season? Yet I long for winter and spring too, Will my dying day be happy as I am now? Yet I long for sunshine and moonshine too. Will I be able to face my death? Yet I long for more years and immortality too. Will my soul reincarnate after I go? Yet I wish but hate this life too. Will I be paid for my deeds in eternity? Yet I don't believe in superstitions. Will I be welcomed in heaven? Though nobody has seen heaven and hell. These questions are mysteries And I'm entangled in grief Searching for the answers !!

Copyright © Kiran Bantawa