If e're we could move that mountain from between thee and me,
where would be lament or reason to grieve?
How remove the hollow from the tree, or shore from the sea?
What left would there be?
What if ere the beam lost it's moon.
Or lovely Autumn raiment lost it's tree? What then would it be?
Can one sow the seed without the land?
Would this be what Powers planned?
The grief, the longing, oh, the heartfelt gaze,
The strife the loneliness, but a soulful phase.
A mountain surmountable, a hollow fulfilled,
A sea able to be, a beam again spilled.
A stage again for raiment,... a fertile valley for seed.
Our love could not be boundless without the bonds of these.
Earth’s sphere of fire bids adieu to me
As dying embers gleam across the sea
In rare hues reflected by autumn trees,
Swirling in motion with October’s breeze.
I feel the joy this season has to share
In golden harvest that the branches bear,
And I am thankful for this blessed year,
For divine abundance I share so dear.
The sun and moon take on a special glow
As thunder clouds move swiftly with the flow.
Yes, autumn coaxes feelings to revive,
Those mem’ries of past seasons still alive.
When autumn spreads her dress of lacey frost
I know, in breathless beauty, I’ll be lost.
© 2013 Connie Marcum Wong
Leaves twirl through the chilly air
Leaving naked tree limbs flailing
Soft sweaters cover me with care
Winds caress with gentle breezing
Crackling and popping beneath my feet
When I walk across the dirt pathway
Colorful leaves even cover the street
Creating oak, poplar and birch bouquet
Squirrels carry nuts into their haunts
While birds begin to fly toward the south
Melancholy feelings start to taunt
Bringing suspicions of winter’s mouth
Autumn is a season of colorful charms
When harvest begins at all the farms
©2014 by Regina Riddle
Written on July 24, 2014
Like violets were her eyes when first I spied
the lady with a sweet child’s face who peeked
at me from bushes that she stood beside,
alluring Lilah, beaming, apple-cheeked!
And so it was that more and more I found
myself among the lilacs in that place
where first we’d met, that I might hear the sound
of Lilah’s laugh and glimpse her angel’s face.
On fragrant garden paths we knew the thrill
of blossoming affection. Poetry
was time we spent! But when my love fell ill,
the autumn of our bliss was not to be. . .
I visit Lilah now where she’s at rest
nearby the lilac blooms she liked the best.
I've been dreaming of a sonnet in the cradle of the breeze
I've been dreaming in the silence of her feathered nest of dream
perched in peaceful solitude autumn falls with golden leaves
where hymn's flow free within a quest along the winding stream
Has my presence ever crossed your mind in lonely nights of need
of placid love refined in gold where one desires thee
a place where time has come to stall of gifts of love and deed
in lust I wait in colors of spring for her my sweet jubilee
In last breath fare of desperate need my eyes have finally seen
my fair young lady from distant hallow floating near within my dream
I hear her voice in loving song with tales of gifts foreseen
with silken wings she flutters free to rest along pure stream
I've been dreaming of a sonnet in the cradle of the breeze
I've been dreaming in the silence far beyond the graceful trees..
Burnished bronze, tarnished teal,
flare warnings yield to winds of steel.
Their urge to jump, to flee and hide
cuts off the warmth for suicide.
They leap and land at such a cost,
far flung debris- refulgence lost.
They shrivel brown, dark fibers done,
decay beneath the wayward sun.
Their shredded shells in supine piles,
small hells ignite by human wiles.
Gray smoking wraiths slip out to sigh,
soar off to smear the flannel sky.
Green progeny will take their turn.
One chance to live is what they earn.
It was the first part of September
As the leaves were just starting to turn
The bonfire shrank to just one ember
A fearful forecast she would discern
Yes, the hurricane season lived on
Although the seas were starting to cool
Bounty of trees now plucked – pecan
As children made their way back to school
Indian Summer brought such sad news
A woman still in her autumn years
Struggled from her eyes, tears to excuse
She had to face the greatest of fears
The doctor offered no hope for her
Would this month be her last September?
*Entry for Brian’s September Contest
Leaves of rust do bounce within the brisk wind
As trees release them from whence they ascend
The frigid air blows down the lane of leaves
Orange charms lay about where we all believe
The sun sits low barely over the drive
Straw blends with the grass as fall comes alive
The crispness of each day flaunts us with pride
Colors of autumn describes the outside
Trees are nearing their midnight life cycle
Almost bare with few leaves to recycle
Crops are near the height of sowing prowess
Yellow stalks surround the farmhouse fortress
The season does explain the cool weather
It’s the most beautiful time of the year
There’s a path of flowers I glide across
Such a beautiful color made of gloss
Orange pieces of delight made to pass
Within this meadow that is long to last
The blades of grass are surely tall with pride
Turning colors from green to brown inside
There’s a lone tree in the sight of the field
Where orange and red leaves become its build
Flowers impact this field in retrospect
Looking at it from my past with respect
Power of the flower is prominent
Secure in my heart which is dominant
Orange is the color of the plant’s choice
Field is glad of their presence, they rejoice
Freedom differs on how each men define it,
like the love of autumn or cold of winter.
Vast it may be but meaning is implicit,
so vast that no soul can ever hinder.
I define liberty as a pen and paper.
Mere it is , but my understanding is sure.
What is simple for you, to me strikes deeper.
Thin a paper be , but it lasts to endure.
The glory of ink is immeasurable,
for a tender soul of mine to comprehend.
Though age has numbers, I am an example,
of a generation's hope for we to ascend.
May the world be courageous to project art.
Like this sonnet , this is where I start.
Sitting under the pale pink running rose
At the end of a beautiful Autumn Day
Searching for inspirational sonnet to compose
For my love who lives in heaven's way
To me He's like a honeysuckle vine
Blooming in the month of May
Sweetly fragrant essence among the pines
He's like the gold of mountains that's refine
To me He's like the babbling brook
Sweetly singing in tune
For everything in heaven He forsook
Fo prove His love for me is beyond the moon
Words cannot describe my love for Him
But daily I'll try to draw close in His realm
Not now the Egypt of my death for I
Have not seen my Bethel yet, nor have I
The coat of many colors made, let me meet
First the soft Rachel of my enslaved years
My heart for her cannot yield to defeat
No Esau can assault my love with fears
Bend me only fore the God of the sky
Bow me to meet his boundless sovereign eye.
Then I shall rise my new name a crown for kings
And bring that boy to bulwark mortal joy
In this Canaan, hear now my Rachel sings
Fox wit and grace, and love without alloy
I am Jacob, heir to the promise of God
Not yet to Egypt desolate I trod.
Look now this sky, more blue than all I know
Taste this water, how calm the rivers go
Feel now this peace, the angels singing slow
And yet all these hours like a prison seem
Like solid bars around my silent dream.
It is not for heaven yet I toil today
My treasures I lay in love, and toil still
Till my bright Rachel heeds and come away,
Only my longing shackles here my will.
How then met I her soft moon's loveliness
First amidst the thirsty creatures, I am
Jacob, I see His will, his plan to bless
If I be steadfast, and trust in the Lamb
I am Jacob, let me yearn, time's tame bars
Shall not my spirit's wings detain. Let toil
Not think it's too hard for me, I keep stars
In my loins to light my hope. Dreams recoil
Where love pushes me; my Rachel will be
Mine. This prison then of Laban's folly
Shall not crush my faith, in chains, yet I'm free
For grace my ransom paid. You may tally
Time in seconds brief, my God tallies it
In years. I am Jacob, soar my spirit
Now away, on angels ladder let me stay
Till Rachel brings anew my autumn day
For I shall claim atonement's jubilee
When her arms are wrapped tightly around me.
Come now, my Rachel, give me jar and string
Let me from the deep well draw, let me bring
Cool as praise the water up, I'm Jacob
Sit here awhile, and with your servant sup.
Fairer art thou than Esau's riches now
Better than Isaac's legacy that I stole
For you the labor of my life I vow
More precious than Laban's cattle or gold.
How beautiful thy face, thy dove's eyes shine
Brimming my darkness with sweet stars and moon
Surely you are that bride, that gift divine
You are my soul's Eden abloom in June
Come now, Rachel, give Jacob jar and string
I claim you a kingdom for God my king.
The equinox in autumn evens out
the nights and days and makes them equal length.
I lie outside because I am devout,
but you, dear Sun, eventually lose strength.
I dream in winter of each afternoon
we meet in summer. . . passion at its peak,
and I can play as if I'm a cocoon
wrapped in your heat till night time makes you weak.
Oh, Sun, I need again for you to surge
for hours on end, so I can take you in
and at the close of day, I can emerge
your monarch, tinged with scarlet for our sin.
Spring comes, and with it comes the moment when
a kiss of sunshine I will feel again!
Written by Andrea Dietrich/ 3/7/13
For "A Kiss of Sunshine" Poetry Contest
1 original, poem on the theme of .A Kiss Of Sunshine............
Any form is acceptable.
Now for the "Take Two" Poetry Contest of nette onclaud
The caramel leaves seem to fall from sky
In waves, as zephyr sings through chimes and eaves
Its song that whispers a fall lullaby
As a gentle rustling wind through autumn leaves
September a time to slow down, be still
Slowly now we have less light_ more dark
A drawing to home and hearth seems our will
Beckoning to fill with bounty our hearts
Caramel sauce for those crisp apples near
The heat of summer is in distant past
None of that snow of winter yet to fear
Watering chores of summer now are past
All things for coming winter out in place
Now one can slow to a snail's simple pace
In honor of Brian Strand's contest...
Click on"About That Poem"
seasons is the relationship.
changes a lot.
SUMMER tells us the value of FRIENDS.
WINTER tells us the caring of FRIENDS.
SPRING is about the quarrel with the FRIENDS.
AUTUMN tells about the LONELINESS.
THUNDER occurs when you fight with me.
LIGHTING occurs when.,
i miss my LOVED ONE.
RAIN occurs when.,
i spend time with my LOVELY ONE.
BREEZE occurs when you give a SMILE after a CRY.
that's the life,
which i spend with my DEAR ONE.
Another walking among seasons and holy beads
As our thoughts moves clouds in a grey sky,
And paint the leaves above our heads;
With a priori color of serenity, your eyes try
To open the white gates of transparent joyous morning;
The air got the scent of hot apple pies, the smile -a meaning
Of what the fingers are touching and what they are dreaming;
Are those our guardian-angels who silently walk by?
The rain of the morning tea falling from heights;
A new painted bench seemed to be almost dry;
White statues sit on the grass near the brave knights;
Two angels with glass wings have just learnt to fly.
But, leaves` procession under the kiss of the wind;
Buds of faith and hope live in philosophical mind.
The singing moon serenades our two eyes
Come the autumnal celestial skies
The deep orange moon a beauteous glow
As the large moon starts its evening show
Low in the sky on an autumnal night
To the eye a large memorable sight
On autumn nights many hunters can see
As the large moon sheds it lovely light free
The singing moon, hunters and the harvest
These names in autumn the moon is now blessed
To lovers the moon sends out its love song
To help guide lovers to whom they belong
An orange glow our skies it adorns
Just after sunset to the new dawn
© 10/03/2013 ~GG~
It was a contest entry but it just closed 5 seconds before I could enter lol
The autumn rain falls, drip, drip, drip on down
As crisp as the breath of fall I don’t drown
I love the feel of the autumn evening
Being so filled with rain a great feeling
Rain cooled by the sky and the air fallen
As the clouds reaches nearer to the glen
They explode with the grey life of evening
My feelings in this time go exploring
The ground is slightly wet and the air damp
There is little light within the sky’s lamp
I sense the coolness of the evening air
Showing I truly love it and I care
The near night feel radiates peace and calm
Dampness with a chill is within my palm
Contest: Autumn's Breath
Sponsor: Gail Angel Doyle
In poems, I keep all the things
That I should not, ever, forget-
The robin preening as she sings
The sharp scent of autumn's breath
Pumpkins fast growing ripe and round
Fields turning to a golden brown
Frosty dawns make a crunching sound
Laughter rises as pale white clouds
Sunlight pours in through a window
The clear blue of the sky above
Trees painted in red and yellow
And the feeling of being loved
These are the things that autumn mark
Cold to the touch, warm to the heart
Trees all flare some bright orange and yellow
Filaments of red spread where wind billows
Up in the sky shows the darker grey mass
Slightly blue expressed, shows autumn alas
A special tree wallows near a calm pond
Tree explodes colors like that from a wand
And reflects onto the water below
An image of itself reversed I know
Fall rules this passive, semi-cloudy day
Grey dominates the sky, blue comes its way
Pond ripples by the bugs on the surface
Flying across displaying its own pace
Autumn releases some grand dynasty
Peace is in the air, sends tranquility
The dirt filled path holds pumpkins on the farm
Thrill of autumn is set with mighty charm
Heart skips a beat every year at this time
And sure invigorates to the sublime
No matter the colors, like reds and rusts
Yellows and burgundies where brown entrusts
Beauty surely comes from all of these hues
Evenings coming quicker with darker blues
The fog is enjoyed in the morning hours
Very cool mist fills all with its power
Down in the valley it stays much longer
The morning mist loves the fall to ponder
No ravens fly this dusk with nighttime’s view
Secure in knowing autumn’s peace is true
The hunter hunted; the past comes stalking,
breath now visible, I quicken my pace,
dusk has fallen, nature is now talking,
autumn's chill causes my heart to race.
My eyes scan dense forest from left to right,
I stop, gain my footing in the thicket,
only branch and crimson leaves in my sight,
owls call out, and prey upon the cricket.
Voices seem to speak from the babbling brook,
cold stones, worn smooth, waters of countless days,
eyes are everywhere, yet nowhere I look,
something is near, I cannot get away.
Struggling, my arrow kept at the ready,
my once stealthy hand, is now unsteady.
This was my original entry for Debbie Guzzi's contest - "A Crown of Sonnets"
(This is also the first sonnet that I had ever written.)
The solar perigree is all too brief,
departure signalled by the falling leaf,
bright colours in their duller Autumn hue
can glisten in the early morning dew.
November mists obscure the rising dawn
as coldness primed with frost welcomes the morn,
and sometime lingers into early night
with damp, translucent, eerie demi-light.
Some random days remind of Summer's call
to warm the country lane and urban sprawl,
their brevity prologues advancing cold,
already settling in, the Winter mould.
The visusl beauty drifts as shifting sand,
inexorably, just as Nature planned.
Mayte, Autumn Child
She'd rather when the season changes
from humidity to serendipity
to make discoveries at a turn
when the autumn leaves
fall to the ground
creating a tapestry of colors
in an unbroken sequence
A chorus of red, green and browns
blending together in natures song
as in a round
to greet the new weathers chill
She is galvanized by the change
of gaiety and glee
but it's not just for her
it's also for me.
written for Maria's love of Fall
(c) Ralph Sergi
The rich, famous, notorious, and singers get their lyrical poem written
by harp playing bards who as thanks get to eat and sit on the left side
of the most illustrious person and whisper flattery into ears that cannot
hear, but one voice. The muse has been corrupted by poets, who flew
too near the power, I feel like writing a poem to Saddam Hussein,
he used to, when young, sell cigarette in Al Basrah, kept Iraq intact till
warrior democrats arrived and turned the country into a failed state,
but I will desist; after all I have stopped smoking.
The tendencies to believe what our leaders say has yet again destroyed
a country and a voice in my head tells me how insignificant poetry is,
when it tells the truths about us, it doesn´t matter anymore, because no
one no listens. The poor are dead or frail and religion is an instrument of
torture as the world nears its total destruction, and all words written on
paper of trees slaughtered trees´ last breath will, be ash in the wind.