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...
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
to become the sustenance;
our transfusion the
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!
The call of springtime
we will invoke,
we will gladly choke;
“This! Obliging old oak.”
Copyright Harry J Horsman 2000
i am surrounded by a blaze of flaming colors in God's garden.
autumn happily creating with her palette in hand the September scape.
a thousand shades of reds, yellows, browns, earth tones spread,
blended perfectly by the artist's loving hand, a sensual delight.
a masterpiece, sketched against a bark colored scrim of nature's flesh.
with my eyes opened wide and my body clothed in autumns light
quenched but still wanting, unwillingly i stagger away, drunk from exposure.
September 2 2014
Our shadows are silhouetted against the fading orange sky.
A blanket of russet and brown leaves carpet the ground
Like tiny children we kick the wind blown leaves, hearing them crunch under our feet
The silvery moon casts its eerie glow, illuminating the trees
Branches once dripping with their coats of leaves are now naked and exposed
The biting wind reminds us that summer is just a distant memory
Pulling our hoods over our heads we hurry home to a roaring fire
Contest:- One Autumn Night
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
~awarded 7th place~
autumn is here.
of the rain
and blossoms spring.
the snow shapes
the crisp cold
ices the wintertide.
the sand sculptures
a childhood summer past.
the seasonal airs
stimulates the senses
and the memories they carry.
in the glee,
in the hopes and dreams,
in the human spirit,
lives the miracle of life.
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
of echoes and whispers – uncut.
Any Old Poem Will Do - Contest
For Skat A
Entered: August 29 2014
Summer is like bathing naked in honey
Liquid hot gold shiny sweet honey
You feel it like velvet on your skin
It fills you with wonder - sweetness and grace
Dancing in a field of timothy filled with summer scents
A gust of wind that kisses your cheek - it's summer time
Small buds on the trees - a little bird sitting in the tree and singing
Summer day suffocated by autumn crisp and cold breath
Grief catches my deepest spirit but the waves hide my tears
On my palette colors are perfect - red, yellow, orange and brown tones
The trees pray and hope - but someone has to lose for severe storms
My eyes capture the most beautiful moments
Autumn dress in beautiful colors dancing and ripples in the wind
Withered autumn leaf - no small bird sitting in the tree and singing
- A-L Andresen :) 30.08.2014
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Contest Name:Summer's End
- Thanks for my 1st place in the contest - :)
A flower blooms - only for a time -
then petal by falling petal, dies.
And faster still when winter settles -
washing white all color from sight.
An heirloom clock wakes sleepy night,
a new calendar sits on tidy desk,
a still life hanging on shadowed wall -
helps to remind of spring's rebirth
as days grow ever shorter.
Does winter's chill call thoughts of death
to those who would rather forget
or bury our discontent beneath the snow?
In late autumn's weary hours,
I tend to the fading flowers
and waiting, hold my breath.
God’s inspirational napalm set ablaze upon the trees of autumn,
Welcome to the ascension of the fall season, bursting forth onto
The leaves once evergreen.
Colors of crisp snapping, auburn reds, fires aglow oranges, and
Subdued darken browns to contrast the mixtures blending, created
By the masterful hands of a higher powers creativity.
Tender timbers mutated into a glorious display of light and color,
Splashing the palette array of natural beauty.
Blessed in magnificence the lord hushes and stills, the mortal heart,
As inspiration captures the poets ink pen to write,
Upon the empty parchment page.
Strolling lovers huddle together, beneath a wondrous tapestry,
A canopy of leaf petals, that descend as it is caressed
By a chilling fall breeze.
Whispering softly in each others ears tender words
Sweet nothings, youth in utter splendor wrapped
Embraced in loves devotional shawl of emotions.
Behold vows promises of perfection uniting
These spirits of fall, united against the winter
Winds forever more.
Cold and slain lay the roses of summer, yet within
The wild heart of innocence, the flame of desire
Shall not flicker out, nay it lives strong in the young,
A blossom of delicate distention is true loves flower.
Oh in timeless remembrance as years will pass,
And only one shadow remains between these two
Souls united joined in life as one.
Shall beyond another single silhouette awaits,
Tracing these burnt ambers of autumn from long ago,
In cascading showers of melted colors of memory.
In angels tears a gentle rain does fall, yet a smile
Crosses the face of this eternal love, a blessings
Promise in one word spoken, always.
God’s inspirational napalm set ablaze upon the trees of autumn,
Welcome to the ascension of the season, bursting forth onto
The leaves of the evergreen.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Sometimes between the lines,
trembles the silence of unspoken goodbyes,
expectant and charged, like a theater scene,
in the moments before the curtain rises.
In a dream that I've had,
you are southward bound, so it must be early autumn,
which, fades to sheer, then disappears.....
Debris fills the gutters, and the shades are drawn
Wild thorn-berries have been picked, all the branches are bare.
And through limbs of old questions, and tall, knotted trees,
Limbs filter regret with a light, between
Leaves are adrift, as if disturbed,
littering the speachless sky
along with unfettered words,
that clamor against the leadlight of a window,
pleading to be heard.
Crushed leaves are swept away,
by a bridled hesitation.
No summer aria has been sung,
and the words go unsaid.
Leaves fall straight to the ground,
and the light leaves the world.
The red velvet drape descends,
leaving unfettered leaves, and unsaid words, bereft, in the dark.
For The Contest "Vibrant Verse" Sponsored By Charlotte Puddifoot
Slow bleeding trees stand,
pallbearers to a failing Summer’s
last warm, moist breath.
Cold moon casts shadows into
early darkness, on flowers shivering
in chilling soil. Thus does Autumn’s
beauty shield us from our pain.
John G. Lawless
for PD’s One Autumn Night(in just 7 lines) – Poetry Contest
There is a wind , which sketched,
Without my knowledge, the message;
Autumn had lying words,
On my page.
It was by way of red leaves,
The bird of passage,
Twirling in space,
I followed it of my glance
And its woven loops,
On the canvas of the sky.
I just transcribed,
What the wings,
Supported on the wind,
Said to me.
(translated from french )
C'est un vent qui traçait,
A mon insu, le message ;
L'automne avait couché les mots,
Sur ma page.
C'étaient en guise de feuilles rousses,
L'oiseau de passage,
Virevoltant dans l'espace,
Je l'ai suivi de mon regard,
Et de ses boucles tissées,
Sur la toile du ciel .
J'ai seulement retranscrit,
Ce que les ailes,
Appuyées sur le vent,
one late night in the grip of a super moon, captivated by the elegance of
the season in an even slumber with bulbs sleeping on the brink of winter.
we surrender our senses to the alluring view and feel of this exclusive new.
autumn in its evening gown, its hibernating blooms, its brittle bark and rusted grass
in repose with sleeveless branches against a midnight sky and in a hovering haze.
wrapped in a multi colored coat of changing leaves and scattered acorns to gather
we walk on air enticed by the flow of a cooling breeze in the warmth of what is we.
September 6 2014
One Autumn Night (in seven lines)
CONTEST FOR LINDA
Can you hear me now? Good!
I can't seem to forget you
I love what you do for me
It must be love
between love and madness lies obsession
Like always. Like never before
At the sign of the cat
have a break, have a Kit-Kat
Tastes so good cats ask for it by name
Schhhh ... You-know-who
I'd rather die of thirst than drink from the cup of mediocrity
Perfect to you
There's a smile in every Bar
Obey your thirst
This Bud's for you
One a day helps you work, rest, and play
More fun than rum
Heineken open your world
... nobody can say no to the honey nut O
a bowl a day keeps the bullies away
Our plans are based on yours
You have my word on it
Be the first to know
Who we are
The "no problem" people
Only smarties have the answer
Making it all make sense
Because that's the kind of mom you are
Sometimes you've got to break the rules
Blow your own bubble
Catch our smile?
Everything we do is driven by you
Driven by what's inside
We'll take more care of you
You asked for it. You got it
We know what it means to serve
On your side
Allied on your side
You're in good hands
We make it happen
We'll be there
Get the feeling
Im lovin' it
You are the controller
Only on Playstation
You are now free to move
Unleash the beast
Is it in you?
Do you dare?
About this poem:
To "write" this poem, I used slogans, short and often memorable phrases
used in advertising campaigns. Below you can find the name of the product
(or the company) in order of appearance.
-Verizon Wireless; Wind Song; Toyota; Honda; Calvin Klein; Saturn
-Mercury; Kit Kat; Meow Mix; Schweppes
-Stella Artois; Wella; Dell; Hershey's; Sprite; Budweiser; Mars; Malibu;
Captain Morgan; Heineken; Rice Krispies; Cheerios; Applejacks Cereal
-Assurant; Isuzu; CNN; Guardian Life Ins; Auto-owners Ins;
-Captain Morgan; Rice Krispies; Buger King; Bubble Yum; Red Hills Inn;
Pacific Southwest Airlines; Ford; Subaru; British Airways; Toyota; USSA;
Nationwide Mutual Ins; Allied Ins
-Allstate; IBM; Chevrolet; Toyota; Mc Donalds; Microsoft Kinect; PS3;
Southwest Airlines; Monster Energy; Gatorade; Curious.
Branches wave naked in the autumn wind,
Leaves being tossed carelessly through the night.
Dark rain clouds are dominating our sky
And my eyes ask where the beauty has gone.
Daybreak shows sleepily its weary head
Just to return to bed, early again.
Cold and wet invading our daily walks
And my eyes search for signs of a blue sky.
Alas, the first of many snowflakes fall
Bringing the beginning of brighter days.
Grey disappears under a white blanket
And my eyes applaud November’s beauty.
The white snow has brought pureness in its wake
And nights are brighter from shimmering snow.
We light a fire, and it brings us such warmth
And my eyes feel the sun shine once again.
Poet Destroyer A's Contest
Impress Me with a Poem
DECLARATIONS OF A SOCIAL SCIENTIST
Indeed, I am that Poet and know it.
Just in transition to a more enriched poetry form.
I want to talk about life, politics, and religion.
Maybe not simultaneously but how I am feeling today.
I tell you life isn't a bowl of cherries.
I am not harvesting berries.
I live a vivacious existence.
I nature walk and take beautiful pictures.
I thrive in my leisure time.
Even more so, I work until my mind unwinds.
I am just a thrill seeker but not an extremist.
I am an illustration of wellbeing.
In fact, I am striving for better physical dexterity.
In all, my body desires more agility.
To eradicate the clumsiness,
My ability to monitor my own quickness is propensity depleted.
My mind, body, and spirit have superseded.
Oh, I am told that it is all right to be big headed.
Of course, gloating is good for your inner being.
Dwindling is not something I will let occur.
I am the booster of morale.
Be assured that I am there for others who seek a physiological mental form.
Do I appear to be titivated?
I am what I have stated.
Doubtlessly, there will be jealousy.
Without doubt, they will envy me.
Undoubtedly, this will not hinder.
I have overcome obstacles since the being of my existence.
Liberated from birth via a nation of government, I am free.
I can wave my hand and be seen.
I can stand up for what is right.
I can ignite the political fire.
I can educate my mind to genius.
I can defeat enmity.
Negativity may come but I disallow it to be a formula.
I am abreast.
Penned on October 31, 2014!
By chance, I found them, there...
Three pressed leaves, with brittle veins of delicacy
Tucked between the pages
Of a tattered book of poems
Overlooked and gathering dust,
A cover worn, with broken spine
It had your names, an autumn date,
With script inside, a faded time...
Caressed in yellowed tissue, these three from ancient trees
Discarded long ago from russet crowns
A memory, kept, of time, so keen,
Of a long ago, brisk autumn day?
Where leaves had fallen so bold and gay, then twirled on down
From breezes that gently made the Sycamores sway
A place you walked and held his hand, and knew forever your love would be
Perhaps beneath those trees you made a plan for me
When winter's chill and stolen years had not yet come
Where fragrance of fall and new young love was found
From soft carpets of scarlet, red and brown
You chose these three from all the rustling hordes that grew
A tree had finished using them, in remembrance of you
They were yours for awhile...for your love, perhaps a lover's bed
now....here in my hands they lay....
They are mine to to keep, pressed leaves,
To keep for now, close to my heart instead...
Her radiant beauty crested, wave ebbing,
summer shakes her flowing green free of cooling rains;
yet, stubbornly they linger, gathering
in misty gray garlands about her peaks.
Decay's first browns creep among the flowers,
drab omens of pallid landscapes soon to come.
Vain summer! Water mirrors she left scattered
reflect from every concave surface of the ground.
Fearful of the season's ending glory,
she reaches for a gown only a queen could wear--
parading field and forest in cascading folds of crimson velvet.
Brilliant oranges, scarlet, gold weave her leafing harvest crown;
Her saffron slippered feet trip down a path of aging green.
Even the moon grows large with October envy,
but he cannot out do her flamboyant display;
his grand act only lasts a moment
compared to summer's pretentious autumnal show.
She hangs on, only brown remaining,
wringing out every vestige of our praise...
until winter comes, ice bragging, to steal the last away.
August 28, 2014
The sun had a way, of lighting the fires
that would often die, and turn to ash, and dash our hope
The wind had a way, to spread the flame,
to light the way
or die in vain
Sun-ripe gold and red leaves
have lined each trail and every road with heavy brilliance
Our eyes, perhaps unwise, were often blinded by the glare
But embers, frozen there, remained alive
Approaching autumn, there is new fire
Ripe with the sun, we have been shaped and formed
grieving over postscripts, of a faded summer sky
while the outstretched arm of autumn
reaches through the trees---
Her leaf-fluttered hand opens fingers wide
brushing passed branch silhouettes, to look into the sky
and has tossed the evening embers
to light our way
For Gail's Contest: Where Frozen Embers Still Burn 8/27/14
Most beautiful honey
deep inside the pot
sweetly stirring thoughts
feelings velvet satin fluttering soft
touching sweetly emotions smile
Breathing in the fresh morning air
misty capped mountains speak
echoing winds carries
deep inside a faraway treasure
brushing across each warm skipping beat
falling dew upon the ground
thinking of you as an amazing dream
Spirit of your beauty flies with me
dancing warm waves upon this soul
within the loving you
Paradise on distant sands
golden in a faraway land
across many distant seas
I lay my heart
upon the sands
just for you my love
Good morning most beautiful
is when you smile
One Autumn Day
One cloudless, bright color-splashed Autumn day,
as a sunny sky frivolously frolicked with butterflies of iridescent blue,
and trees exploded with flaming colors of burnt orange, red, and yellow,
she rested on a soft bed of freshly-fallen leaves near a golden pond.
In her reflection, she saw the spirited girl she once was,
the brash nymph who uninhibitedly loved the sun god, amorous Helios,
with glorious memories of one Autumn day forever engraved in her heart.
Trees shake old cobwebs from their heads
A kaleidoscopic parade of colors tumbles down
Pretty reds and yellows, parasol shapes
Parachute softly and collect in mounds
Falling leaves that drift and cross our paths
Brought on by climates cooler winds
Leave the trees in all their majesty
To become the magic of the season
Created on 9/03/14 for Autumn Colors poetry contest
SMITTEN OLD MAN
High school year book, 47
I’m not a gad looking guy –
Short hair, sport coat, tie
This remembered as I gaze across the room
She’s sitting at a table near the wall,
Lap top open, ear phones, late and all
She wears a sleeveless blouse
On a cookie now I’m nibbling,
But, my God, her arm! What’s that scribbling?
From distance the appendage looks solid black
Is she weird, some sort of voodoo?
“No, you idiot!” I laugh. “Just a tattoo.”
Through her tangled blond hair a streak of purple,
No cosmetics improve the sallow face,
Clothes, by 40s standards, a national disgrace
I’m smitten – chair seat a bed of nails,
Arthritis rebels, bony hands clutch -
This modern generation, it’s just too much!
The spool of twine grows thicker
with the winding up of days,
the garden vines, yellowed, hug the ground;
the air, intoxicated with over ripened fruit,
grows loud with strident voices, the insects' final song.
The cooled night breeze shoves us gently toward the fire
and the love-large harvest moon bends low to kiss her dying child.
September 6, 2014
What autumn has bedecked
with plants, founts and flowers,
in colors of divine radiance
the sun hangs in the fourth sphere,
then comes purple daybreak
beautiful sky brimful with stars,
none can match mi cielo,
the lovely parts of your face!
Your black hair lost in the forest
hands soft and delicate as lilies,
hidden partially beneath your coat
breasts and arms, engirdling your fantasy frame,
stay, elusive shadow of my beloved,
lovely illusion on this soft autumn day
sweet woman for whom I love so sadly,
image of enchantment I love the best...
Today autumn washes gently along the Gulf of Mexico,
I gather cones of pines in yellow baskets,
opening a liter of sparkling red wine,
come mi corazon, in the energy of the Harvest moon glow,
for inside your simple and tender heart
my numb dreams yearn to snuggle up,
just as when the night of autumn starts,
we cuddle like two birds in cozy nests!
We walk on a crisp carpet of withered leaves
Purple, lilac and pink heather paints the hillside
The yellow gorse bushes emits a fiery golden glow
Vicious brambles protect their delicious fruit
We fight against them to pick their prized berries
Our fingers are stained purple with the blood of their juice
Then we hurry home to make a delicious pie
Contest: One Autumn Day (in just 7 lines)
Sponsored by Poet destroyer A
~awarded 4th place~
Red leaves cowardly fall from trees like arrogant men
The powerful wind creeps up steadily scattering them on battered ground
While caretakers gather them into bags and empty them into garbage cans.
The giant trees still hold their composure waiting for the winter band
Autumn chills and winter spills engraved in the soul of every man
Telling us that life is entering another round and hope is still alive.
It has been a miserable year casting doubt and myriad fear
The summer season could not stand up to the parching sun
Events after events stirring up the summer heat but now autumn is here
Blowing away the evil dust making way for the winter crust.
I drove out in the wee hours of the morning and penetrated the clear blue sky
I saw millions of shining stars embedded in the dancing blue sky smiling merrily at me
And the cool autumn morning whispering songs of praise emitting sparkling delight.
I long to wake up to the day when the grumbling and contention will cease
The war will be completed and mankind will be at peace
I longed for the day when families will reunite and communities will come together
I yearn for the day when countries will be delivered and enjoy lasting peace with their neighbors.
The seasons embrace life’s abundance
The seasons empowers pinnacles of hope
The seasons with its multitude of stars secured in the deep blue sky
And the red leaves scattered on the ground is a testament
That autumn will bring new joy and stunning changes all around.
©2014 Christine Phillips
Quote 2: "Observe the wonders as they occur around you.
Don't claim them. Feel the artistry moving through and be silent. ~Rumi
Old pages torn from ancient trees
with sage remarks upon the breeze
break silence, one by one
Catch them, hold them, before they flee
and listen to the past, unseen
for strong roots to lean on
For Nette's Contest: Rimee couee:
By Carrie Richards 4/20/12
Do you know what its like to be
in absolute darkness?
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
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.
There's a girl in the graveyard that never seems to leave.
She hangs like dust in the autumn air.
She has beautiful flowers and tangles in her hair.
When it seems she's right there, she's nowhere.
Golden threads finger through the fog
To whisper at frosted boughs
For dawn is yawning at quilted trees
Where sunlight doth tap the pane of silent glass
Reflecting the blaze burning bright
Through misty Elms denuded
Of shame through natures stark humility
Poet Destroyer’s contest: Autumn Day
11 September 2014