Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Introspection Autumn Poems | Introspection Poems About Autumn

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Quatrain | |


An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and 
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of 
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field 
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community 
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound 
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the 
evening to be appropriate for the purpose. 
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical 
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that 
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the 
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by 
our café.

When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew, I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true, A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent. I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more. Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore, The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry, As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by. The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes. The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve. My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before. She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside, And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride. Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart, For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part. Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear. The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years, Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears, When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew, And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.

Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Unfettered Words

Sometimes, there is, between the lines,
a silence, that trembles with unspoken goodbyes
Expectant and charged, like a theater scene,
in the moments before the curtains rise.

In the dream that I'm in, I am southward bound, 
so I assume it is autumn 
And it resounds through the changing season
with the words never said,  things never did
and with more forgiveness, and threads
of reason and understanding

Debris fills the gutters, and shades are drawn
Wild thorn-berries have been picked,
Trees are barren, naked, without a sound
Grief is thick, from the fog that was a cloud
And through limbs of questions never asked, 
each branch has stretched with some neglect
and light of sun, still filters through
holding deep regret

Leaves are adrift, as if disturbed,
littering a speachless sky
Unfettered words we never cried
clamor up against the sky
still pleading to be heard.

Leaves are crushed and swept away,
by a bridled hesitation.

No summer arias have ever been sung,
and words to say have disappeared.
Vaporized and turned to dust
Sunlight dims, and I am thrust
into the void of too many wasted years

100 In A Row Contest: #18
Sponsor PD

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Continual Autumn

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

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2012

Details | Personification | |


.                         ‘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'?

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.

Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2010

Details | Verse | |

One Autumn Day

As the wind ripped the leaves from the trees
I thought of you
As I stood there like those trees
Stripped of all their glory
Their only crime
Giving birth to beauty

I watched them fall
All those brilliant leaves
And knew you could never stop
Poetry in motion.


Written:  September 14, 2014
Author: Elaine George

Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


I never knew I'd be in heaven
In the autumn of my years,
Or that I'd be immerged
In the brilliant art of words,
Or float above operatic notes,
Or view ballet through
My elated tears.

I never thought I'd meet
Inspiration face to face,
Or feel it rise within me
With a poet's surrendering grace.
I just know that I'm contented
As profound love keeps flowing
From my impassioned heart.
This is the gift that artists
Of this world yearn to impart.

© Connie Marcum Wong

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |


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!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Seasons and Imaginations

Wind so cold.
Fondles my face.
The tears from heaven.
I wonder if i wish
    to stop them
From numbness,
    to waking,
          then sensing.

The little voice in me says,
Wait, don't go.
Stay a little longer. I plead.
Sing for me today, rain.
With the gliding rhythm on my piano,
                                                  I'll play.
Chilly Wind, caress my bare skin 
     with the pure coldness that you bring.
     like it's my first time in the snow.
     the fire tree never fades in the picture.
The yellow sunkissed leaves, too.
What is it about Summer and Fall
    that I can't forget?
Memories. Sweet imaginations.

The chilly rain. The misty wind.
You are here. 
Freeze me with the sharp coldness you give.
Calm me. Maybe, comfort me.
And, if you leave
Will you visit me when summertime comes?
Before it gets too late
   And again I fold.

Copyright © Wendy Meyer | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |


“Look up,” she cried,
And the rains came swiftly,
Overwhelming her youth
With migrant purpose.

Summer’s demise,
So abrupt,
Interrupted her sound-scape,
Giving her pause.

“Look around,” she said,
And autumn bowed to her,
A colorful character
In shades of golden afternoons.

Sequestered among
Such vividness,
She found solace and comfort
Through the grace of experience.

“Look up,” she laughed,
And silver dusted her hair,
Weighing the diversity
She wore as a crown.

Abstract changes
Became her teacher,
A benevolent
Yet unforgiving presence.

“Look around,” she said,
And spread her arms wide,
Dancing in the perspective
Of winter.

This life is transitory,
Best marked
By the seasoning
Of one’s attitude.

Copyright © Pamela Davison | Year Posted 2005

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 | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse | |

Dreams and Reality

When I awoke 
from that place once dreamed 
when I was seventeen, 
and looked around
I saw how swiftly autumn came
rushing by
through falling years

I have no tears...
yet, still, I get,
a few small pangs

A tinge of blue, a bit askew, construed regrets
So futile yet…they linger near... 

My eyes were wide, with expectation,
when youth was mine, 
So little did I know
what line or direction I would go

The plans and dreams and schemes I chose
would touch and teach and rush to change
I'd make an impact in the chain...

My offerings would change the world
I would be heard, I'd leave a mark, a light, a spark
A legacy would be my life
No matter pain, or sacrifice

   Of course my life had other plans
   I stayed, on course…like others do
   My dream turned into sanity…
   Those youthful schemes had sincerity, 
   I see them now with clarity
   What I've learned since then, makes sense to me
   Some things are simply meant to be
   Those dreams became a family…

   My offerings have changed the world, in grander ways
   I do believe
   My children came, first one, then two, then three
   I never dreamed of dreams so full
   Three supreme adults, are the result 
   How dreaming dreams, can still come true
      and often is
            in fact, the true, remarkable

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

Where Frozen Embers Still Burn

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

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

When Autumn Comes

When autumn comes to drop it's leaves.
Unreconciled, the branches greive.
To enter winter's long goodbye.
Awaiting spring, again to sigh.

Amidst the heat of summer's sun.
The planted seed will soon be done.
Only the rain of heavens love.
Can help the plant rise up above.

The seasons we all have to live.
Are waisted if we don't forgive.
A heart that's full of pain and sorrow.
Requires hope to meet tomorrow.

When someone needs a helping hand.
It's nice when they can join the band.
To know that they can sing along.
To harmonize in life's long song.

Copyright © robert johnson | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain | |

I Stand Here

I stand here and watch the changing of seasons,
a summer of winters, an autumn of springs,
I stand here in thought, not knowing the reasons,
to the meaning of life, how the caged bird still sings.
I stand here and watch as the years pass me by,
regrets of my past, what my life might have been,
I stand here and muse over one butterfly,
freed from the prison it had put itself in.

I stand here and watch as the dark turns to day,
the first glimpse of sunrise, a shimmer of light,
I stand here and wonder where clouds go to play
would they take me with them when day turns to night?

I stand here on guard while my inner self dreams,
of a world free of hurting, a life blank of stain,
I stand here and listen while my inner self screams,
with fear in his eyes and a soul filled with pain.
I stand here alone, memories by my side,
a flood of emotions, bittersweet in my mind,
I stand here unknown with the tears I have cried,
searching for answers in a world where I'm blind.

Copyright © Curt Mongold | Year Posted 2008

Details | Rhyme | |

Trumpet Call

My heart is the same full of love
     My house that shelters it full of pain
But it's autumn in my life, Dove
      The hair of gray and wrinkles reign

I set the table full of food
        For the family to dine fun times
But it is autumn in my life
       When changes prepare for winter

I'm not sure I'll know winter now
        For I have not experienced it
But it's autumn in my life somehow
        Where beauty glows bright from the depths

Producing leaves of many hues
       Love the autumn of my life, Dove
Now all that's left winter's white snow
        I think that when winter comes cold

Plants freeze if left out in weather
      They will need a warmer place inside
But since it is just autumn now
       There's time to prepare room somehow

I still watch the birds from window
       They have not all gone away love
But it's autumn in my life now
        Soon most will be gone for winter

Winter soon will approach with cold
       Seemingly death of the roses
But it's autumn in my life my bold
       There are few thoughts of approaching winter

But when winter comes my way
        The body rest to rise another spring
Now it's autumn in my life this day
         On another day I'll be called by trumpet away

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme | |


I keep pecking at the tree of life
Only finding the bugs of strife.
No nourishment for my aching heart
No detailed map or starry chart.

Pieces of bark I chip away
Searching for the essence of yesterday.
Rings of wisdom in the tree
My eyes too blind to clearly see.

The autumn of my life is here
For spring and summer I shed a tear.
For if I knew what I know now
Would have done it different somehow.

Yet different choices would have led
To different sets of regret.
Better to stop pecking at the tree
Maybe it made, for a better me.

Copyright © Heidie Buys | Year Posted 2008

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Words Like Wine & Water

It's difficult to fabricate a verse
whose words convey like water in a stream,
but one should try, for there is nothing worse
than words that cannot flow nor form a theme.

I wish to write with words imbued with spring:
the kind that bloom within the reader's mind
and linger with the scent that season brings;
no better words than these can writers find.

Though, words of autumn also can console,
and so I'd like my words to warmly fall
as different colors toward a common goal;
and, like that season, may such words enthrall.

Upon my page I wish for words like oil:
acutely bold and never poor in point,
the kind that gurgle under ivory soil
and long to meet the eyes that they'll anoint.

Have not you ever yearned for words like song--
the sort of dialect that sings when said,
or maybe words whose voices carry strong
within the reader's mind and ring when read?

I want my words to thrive like fervent fire--
engulfing every eye that wanders near,
to dance with little match and never tire,
for words should last and never cease to sear.

It's also my desire to write like ice,
with words akin to water-- smooth yet sound,
the kind that naturally form and gleam concise
when brought to light where thirsty eyes are found.

But every word at least should taste like wine:
a flavor fermented and rightly earned--
the kind when sipped again, tastes more refined,
the kind that urges readers to return.

Copyright © Michael Perriatt | Year Posted 2010

Details | Couplet | |


Immersed in the sound of the low rustling wind
Memories and places they haunt yet again
Passed by so quickly as each falling leaf
Drifting and flowing on an unyielding stream
A current to carry from birth right on through
Filling our moments with cares which ensue
A mind lost in remnants of lovers and friends
Babies and children and time long since spent
Familiar, intangible, just out of reach
Longing for ghosts that my heart doth beseech
Winter is looming and summer is past
A time for remembrance the years gone so fast
Beauty is captured in my last breath of life
The sparkling colors in the warm golden light
Do mimic the glory and wonder be told
In those bright days of autumn and a life to behold

Copyright © Sara Ray | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballad | |


The wind passed through the trees 
A delicate touch 
A delicate leaf, 
fell on me 

Crisp and tan, 
down it fell... 
You cannot change 
A turning leaf 
A falling leaf 
A falling man 

I held it in my hand 
So light... 
So fragile... 
How this leaf could withstand 
A Summers season 
Now a dying Autumn, 
in this changing land 

The colour turned... 
The leaves fell on me 
A falling man, 
in a changing Autumn land 

A delicate touch 
A delicate leaf 
Could be crushed 
Yet, with a soft blow 
I let an Autumn leaf go 

The leaves falling... 
From an Autumn tree 
Crisp and tan 
A falling man 
A falling leaf 
A falling me 

I will appear 
Lush and green, 
in a summer next year 
A delicate leaf 
you have seen 
you have let it go 
in a changing colourland so 

Copyright © Matthew Brackley | Year Posted 2006

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 | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse | |

Down Fall

Pride and prejudice has been ripped from me,
and my strength has abandoned me,
yet my will still crashes against the 
breach within.
My citadel a long forgotten fortitude
left to rot and decay.
As my soul seeks refuge in other hosts
to take and mingle while balancing
my mental ballast before it erupts.
With guilt peeking in on me 
to remind me i'm still in debt.
While my Autumn years have yet to arrive,
I feel vandalized,sterilized,and alone.
The very root system of my essence
has retracted the twilight of my descent
is not as dark as one would imagine,and
yet I am still a minor in time and
I can not consent to my downfall.

Copyright © Malcolm Dyer | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse | |

The Photographer's Dream

A photographer dreamed 
Of a telephoto lens 
Capturing light waves  
From beginning to end.
Since time unleashed 
When the Big Bang leaped 
And particles began life’s history 
In swirling clouds he wondered how 
He might picture a piece of the mystery.
Through polished glass converging past
Planets, stars and seas
Of swirling waves that danced and swayed 
No less than windswept trees.
As he focused his dream glass
Where present meets past 
And depth of field is wide;
Where the image is clear and light streaks steer, 
Far away from the photographer’s eye.
With shutter speed set like a fast speed jet 
Blazing through the blue-white wispy above
Turning his wings on the bird that sings 
And a girl who once stole his love.  
Racing through time while continuing to climb
Higher through the prism of light
His finger feathers the button below
Capturing the moment in flight.  
Lingering there in pure mid-air 
Like a magic carpet in the wind; 
Until jolted by the sun on its morning run
While still dreaming of that telephoto lens. 
Maybe today, perhaps tomorrow,
He’ll capture the illusive the beast;
The athlete who strives for the best inside 
Or the homeless sleeping in the streets.         
He’ll stop small birds he’s seen and heard 
With their colorful feathers, breast and crown;  
And children playing in autumn leaves  
Scattered on the ground.   
Weddings and rings, flowers in spring,
Butterflies, wistful and bright;
Pollinating bees and hives in the trees
Or a harvest moon late at night.
Meadows and mountains, free flowing fountains
Ancient temples in faraway places; 
Fireworks up high on the 4th of July 
Olympics and fast car races.   
But now fully awakened he knows he’s mistaken
About the focal length in his dream glass;
Lens lust is a photographer’s must 
But this too, he knows, must pass. 
Like water flowing in the river
And wind passing through thin air;
The world he sees through his own eyes
Is a wonder beyond compare.


Copyright © Terrell Martin | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry | |

The Wind of Yesterday

Life is
Death is knots
A box of thoughts
Is not that above?
A twisted thing to ponder
Staring at 
A wilted rose by the casket out yonder

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

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 | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

Autumn Sees Winter

Autumn sees Winter
far to near, approaching fast
never an escape

© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
Wausau, Wisconsin USA
October 12, 2011

Copyright © christine a kysely | Year Posted 2011

Details | Haiku | |

In Silent Color

in silent color
late Autumn waits quietly
bids her leaves goodbye

© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
Wausau, Wisconsin USA
October 12, 2011

Copyright © christine a kysely | Year Posted 2011

Details | Haiku | |

Autumn Blows A Kiss

Autumn blows a kiss
 mists dance amongst painted leaves
 Winter soon arrives

(c) Copyright by Christine A Kysely
(November 9, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)

Copyright © christine a kysely | Year Posted 2011

Details | Haiku | |

Autumn Walks Alone

autumn walks alone
shorter gray days soon approach
colors disappear

© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
Wausau, Wisconsin USA
October 12, 2011

Copyright © christine a kysely | Year Posted 2011

Details | Haiku | |

Jewels Dance About

jewels dance about
bright Autumn spirals downward
into deep dark heaps

© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
Wausau, Wisconsin USA
October 11, 2011

Copyright © christine a kysely | Year Posted 2011

Details | Haiku | |

Brilliant Autumn

brilliant autumn
trees shower earth with color
gray days soon arrive

© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
Wausau, Wisconsin USA
October 11, 2011

Copyright © christine a kysely | Year Posted 2011