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Autumn Prose Poetry Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Autumn

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

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.

Details | Prose Poetry |

Her Name was Autumn

Thoughts of " Autumn " and her " off Spring" 
Seasons change as do people...
Her name is Autumn...
She quietly puts her mark the on Season ….
Yet no one sees her there..
She has a certain presence, still …
and her perfume fills the air..
Yet no one speaks to her…
Her colors are not light, but bright…
reds, yellows and orange, quite a sight…
But even though , she’s more than that…
No one approaches, some don’t seem to care..
So she quietly leaves ...before all the trees are bare...

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Autumn Mist

Mellow autumn….how refreshing!
Draw nigh that my soul may find delight 
In the vibrant hues of red and gold
The long walks in cool brisk air 
Watching the wild geese fly south  
In quiet solitude, latent dreams resurrect 
They haunt my fragrant reverie
As I walk a familiar path, down these steps of stone,
That lead me to “my place” by the sea!
Where the cries of hungry seagulls resound
As they squabble over a miniscule meal, 
Wild surf crash into boulders-twin, standing in its midst 
Nonchalantly, I toss my loafers aside, 
“Where are you today, Sir Knight?”, I inquire aloud
“I can not find you in this mist!”  
“One moment you are here inside my thoughts
The instant  I turn, then you are gone!”  
Like ocean spray, refreshing, you then vanish!
So, here I stroll upon this desolate shore, alone

The fireplace lit, soft, pink candles abound
What ambiance these feelings inspire
"Where are you this dreamy day?"
Hear how fiercely the ocean roars!  
Wild and relentless, bashing boulders in its path!
Winds softly whispering, brush my cheek, and instinctively, I smile
”Was that a kiss from you?  I whisper.  But there comes no reply. 
Only the silence in the whispering wind
“Gentle, autumn winds, do you know of my fate? 
“Have you no secrets to share with me?”
“Do tell, is it you in the mist and wind?”
“Or are you  just a wandering phantom 
Lost, upon this beautiful, shore?”
“Or, perhaps a magician from afar, casting random spells?”
“What grateful audience you have found in these,
The mighty sea and its countless creatures!  
Listen!  Hear their thunderous applause for you!”
“Is it you I see, in my autumn dream?
“Is it you within the mist?”

Details | Prose Poetry |

Dreams like Light-Waves

Dreams like light-waves,
in my memory.
Birds of loneliness,
flowering days,
waves of silence
into daydreams.
The horizon,
verges – dissolving
like far desires.
In the hours of silence,
falls remembrance 
like autumn leaves
in an uncertain future.
Dreams remain
like light-waves
in my thoughts.

Details | Prose Poetry |


The armada sailed before my 
eyes, crispy autumn leaves in
the evening breeze. Into  the 
mist of the cooling pool, away
on a voyage of serenity
The watching reeds and sedge
wave farewell, the damsel and
the dragonflies in harmony sang 
their goodbyes.
And the evening crept silently
dragging its cloak and diamond 
skies, over hedge and stile, offers
sleep to this once sun kissed land.
But the moon has her friends, 
who walk and fly her calm. Live 
the safety of the night and the 
daylights hunters eye.
The pitter patter of tiny feet, the
bats transparent wing against the
moon and reynards silent stalk.
Sit quiet listen and the night
comes to life, the owls glide,
the grass snakes slide, branches
gossip in the breeze, hedgehogs
grubbing as the foxglove rings
the hour.
The petals fold and sleep, the
willow with soft dew weep, and 
in the peace the spider plucks 
his web and serenades the
silver clouds as the land lies
deep in the heart of serenity.

Details | Prose Poetry |


It’s back to school time
Fresh from a summer of fun and laughter
Suppressed excitement – meeting the friends
Exchanging and embracing new challenges
While autumn leaves turn golden red and fall
On summer nourished grass and dance
Wind gently making ballet of the shapes
You breathe in and absorb the essence of all this
Half sad that summer’s gone and winter beckons

Details | Prose Poetry |

Ode to the Orange Gourd

It’s that time of year again...
When family and friends gather together..
To share and give thanks for all that they treasure..
The young and the old, the tall and the small..
The Vegans and the Carnivores, come one come all...
There are dishes of tradition, like Turkey and stuffing..
Mashed potatoes, gravy, and cranberry muffins..
Green Bean casserole, and corn soufflé...
Are just some of the dishes of the day....
And of course a relish tray to take off the edge...
With that awesome Spinach dip in Pumpernickel bread...
So many desserts at this time of year...
But the favorite of all , synonymous of the Fall..
Is that Jack’O ‘Lantern, orange Gourd.....
 known as Pumpkin Pie...
As the children play a game of touch football...
Something that is 24-7 on this day in  Fall..
As Grandpa sits in the afternoon sun...
Remembering back ..when he was young...
Then the words of “ Let’s eat “ fills the air...
And everyone sits down in their chair..
Who wants the first slice ? Dark meat or White ?
Grandpa asks...then proceeds to take the first bite..
Everyone fills their plate, till it can’t hold no more...
Yet some go back, for more and more....
Finally everyone is full...can’t eat another bite..
Till the smell of fresh coffee brings on a plight...
Aahh  dessert ..and the best part of all....
“ PUMPKIN PIE “ !!!! ....It appears was a "Majority Call"...
This is “ my “ favorite time of the year....
When you mention "MY" name, everyone gives a cheer !!!
So without  further adieu  ...Grandpa picks up the knife...
As I am the “ MAJORITY CALL “ and receive the first slice....

Details | Prose Poetry |

Herbstblätter/ Autumn Leaves/ Hojas de Otoño

Fallen im Wind
wenn der Herbst sie müde macht am Baume.
Durchsichtig, wie Stücke aus Glas,
ruhen sie am Ufer des Flusses,
haben ihre eigene Sprache.
Und, wie die Nachtigall ihre Lieder dem Wind anvertraut,
so erzählen die Blätter ihre Legenden den Wäldern.


Falling with the winds
if  autumn makes them tired in the tree.
Transparent, like pieces of glass,
when they rest on the shore of the river.
They have their own language.
And like the nightingale entrusts  her songs to the wind,
the leaves take their legends to the woods.


Caen con el viento, 
cuando el otoño les decansen en el árbol. 
Transparente, como  piezas de vidrio, 
reposen en las orillas del río, 
tienen su propio idioma. 
Y, como el ruiseñor confie sus canciones al viento, 
así cuentan las Hojas sus leyendas a los bosques.

Details | Prose Poetry |

First Mother, First Son - The Unspoken Words

 …What he found told that they each live lives which revolve around an ever deepening sense of a mother’s regret;
 … a weighted loneliness, held only by the truly broken of heart that surrender to their own pain. 

This was a pain obviously based on guilt; with enough for him to realize, - could’ve led her young mind to find comfort in his presented destiny… 

“…but at what price?” he asked out loud!

Edifyingly, the few times she spoke of the adoption, in her voice there always maintained a high level of doubting inflection. 
This was a conscience still ensconced at the summit of its grief; there would never be a fulfillment of her self-sacrificing penance.

That was the way her life ended…

   In stark, contrasting analogy of her coercion, – was that he too, has since found himself on same like hilltop. 
This place was real, in overlook and earth. 
One that evokes true ironies, where metaphors in life’s journey’s reflections do view from both sides …, 
but sometimes, - these stop you cold!
    His person just stood there mesmerized, while staring at this lonely snow fence, still dripping after a late summer storm's rain. 
Upon fleeting touch, he back away when felt was the wet of sorrow’s myriad of shed tears; … he would soon feel the stinging salinity of his own!
    It then occurred, and not by volition, an eerie loosing of these forlorn and mystic cries; 
a sounding that had instantly chilled the autumn air. 
These were the conjured bring from tailing empty winds that rush thru and by a fence’s waiting pickets...
 …In this field of view were the unknown mothers of different circumstance;
 each knowing what he had heard only all too well.
  They were his gone but stalwart Praetorian Guard, only long gleaned of any shown emotion… 
And now, through his welling eyes, a vision became this phalanx of weathered but now endeared souls,
 - yet still howling for the cold, cold company charged to their every winter’s keep. 
His tears now began to fall – and follow…

Details | Prose Poetry |

Thoughts from the Mind of a Blogger

It was a chilly morning in paradise...

Autumn was already here...

A time for strange things to happen, as it is that time of year...

She was up most of the night, doing a write....

Regarding some hubs and her series titled "Legend of Fred "

Ahh the questions she had... rolling around in her head..

Were “where were her readers, her followers “ her Hubbers...?

They had all seemed to like what she wrote in the past..

But lately her hubs were falling so fast....

She had written articles on health and life..

perhaps she had targeted too much strife...

Maybe they wanted to read about food..

But when you're not a cook, that would be kinda rude..

Oh, will wonders never cease ?

So she decided she'd get some zzzzz's

She lay in her bed, not moving at all...

but breathing quite deeply, as I saw the covers fall...

So I stretched my muscles and walked ever so slow..

So as not to wake her , then I spied her big toe..

Sticking out from the was such a temptation..

And with me having such a" foot fixation".. however...

She needed the rest , so she can finish her quest..

I have some thoughts of my own...

that I would like to share in a poem..

And I would be happy to help her.. but..

I don’t think the world is ready for me...

as I am a BLOGGING CAT.. you see

So I will close for now...everyone have a great

I'm off to seek something that has a tweak and a squeak..