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Sonnet Autumn Poems | Sonnet Poems About Autumn

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

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Lilah of the Lilacs

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. For the "One of Your Best" contest of gautami phookan

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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.

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Ode to Autumn

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

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Novella My Love


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..


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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

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September Chill

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

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Leaves of Rust

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
Russell Sivey

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Field in Retrospect

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
Russell Sivey

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Sonnet I : Ink and nothing else

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.

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Sweetly Fragrant

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

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I am Jacob

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.

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A Kiss Of Sunshine

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

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                      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.

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Snail's Simple Pace

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"

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A Stone In The Cold - 5 Runner Up

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.)

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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.

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Moon Is My Muse

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 

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An Autumn Sonnet

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

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Autumn's Breath

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
Russell Sivey Contest: Autumn's Breath Sponsor: Gail Angel Doyle 8/13/2013

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Autumn Spread

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
Russell Sivey

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Seasons Turning

The wind turns rustling the reddish-brown leaves. 
Trees stand devoid of their cover and howl
Like bathers caught without a green towel.
The wind turns, the arctic soul misconceives.
The snows pile up around my silver car.
Outraged the trees thrash and howl in the wind
Smarting like young children regimented.
The snows pile up; the heart is as stones are.
The iris bloom, couples old, young elope.
Buds develop forth from bare twigs and grow,
A bald man farming a new luscious mo.
The iris bloom, the heart feels raptured hope.
The grass browns the dams are slowly emptied.
Branches hang drooping in the severe sun,
Young mothers at their hot sinks deflated.
The grass browns the heart resigns abandoned.
You seduce others, caress them and give
Love, mine remains fervent and I forgive.

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Thrill of Autumn

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
Russell Sivey

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Autumn Sonnet

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.

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October's Crown

The growing dusk draws this fall day to term.
October crowned in warmth and brilliant light.
The sun across it arc shines to confirm,
that these fall days be passionate and bright.

Heroic are the colors autumn wears.
Yet, soon its rich-hued robe will fade away,
to know the sting of winter's icy airs.
We wish our coldest season would delay.

The gleanings of these golden days are rich.
We hold such gifts within our hearts, sublime.
Nostalgia is the providence from which,
we warm our souls the span of winter-time.

Hold fast, through dormant season, sharp and cold.
Soon, warmth will grace spring's light to be extolled.


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first thought

First Thought
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.

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Autumn Arrival

The stained 
glass fragile 
face of the blue 
Gently whispers 
the arrival of 
shorter days.
As boring 
laziness of 
summer days 
kiss the earth 
Bright sun 
paint the day 
with chill rays 
Beneath the 
merriment of 
yellow and red 
colors of 
Perfumes of 
the stealing 
autumn arrest 
my keen nostrils
As busy-laden 
squirrels hustle 
nuts with belief,
Mine eyes are 
fed with 
Soon, the 
sentry poplars 
shall undress to 
yield wind 
And dance 
naked before 
the scented 
Their ripped 
fruits dangling 
like damsel's 
Shall kiss the 
lips of sunlight
Then, autumn 
has cursed the 
earth with her 
chill wand
And all shall 
dance her 
drumming band

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The Smokestacks of Auschwitz

A trail of smoke fades to an autumn dawn
as sounds of morning break unearthly still
arising to the day, some life goes on
while others have the fear it never will.

Some ashes drift about the morning air
appearing as do snowflakes in a stall,
to restless breezes they drift everywhere
and they are spread about before they fall.

Each life that was is slow in pure descent
and longing for the earth that pounds below
the mother of all life, where time is spent,
until time's all run out--it's time to go.

Down in the valley echoes from a train
awhistling here come the dead again.

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Thirst for Life 2

(Blank Verse Sonnet)

Autumn sun at noon lends wilting ordeal,
and scorches earth to wither blossoms' face;
the breath to whistle shrinks away to aught,
and throats athirst are choking with no spit.

As turtles, lizards, thirsty toads cry out
for rain, the birds begin a shelter search;
the trees dig deeper, leaves become dry curl,
and life performs a drooping dance of death.

Yet rain has come, a slow, obscure nimbus;
as showers mantle earth with warm, wet tears,
the dry-bed rivers rise as children splash,
and wakened earthworms twine back on the job.

We stand here hand in hand to sniff the air,
breathe in, and watch new life return to earth. 

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Shall I compare thee to an Autumn day

Shall I compare thee to an Autumn day?
Thou art more windy in the afternoon.
Old leaves of gold October throws away
Can never match your bottom's lively tune.
The scents of fruits are sweet at harvest time,
While scent of you can make a strong man cry.
Much beer and curry serve to fuel your crime
For saving scent of harvest I must sigh.
Each year the sweetness fades to winter rain,
When mud and grit are mixed with diesel fumes,
Your pungent stench appears whene'er you strain
Eternally we know your rank perfumes.
    So long as beans are served and you still live,
    You'll have a complex mix of scents to give.

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The Poet and the Player

The poet met the player in summer
When the days are long and the roses bloom
She rhymed the word summer with lover
And he smiled as his strings he tuned

The poet loved the player in autumn
When the trees turn as golden as sunbeams
And the player strummed and sang of freedom
And the poet compared him to a dream

The poet missed the player in winter
When distances seem to grow with the cold
There's much merit in words, but cold fingers
Do so beg for a lover's hand to hold

But the poet gave the player her heart
And that is the way the sweetest songs start

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Fall Expense

Beauty expressed during the real soft light “Candy corn scented candles burning bright” That which comes from the center of our soul Smells scented you no longer can control There’s a crispness in the air this autumn Leaves gradually falling, surely awesome Many colors display autumn’s beauty Hues are shown on the ground, a litany The ground is wet after a cold shower This is all seen right by my cool bower I walk back inside where the candle burns And the scent sure fills the air where I turn Looking outside there is the glow of fall Which tugs at the heartstrings, love one and all
Quote is “Candy corn scented candles burning bright” from A Magical Halloween Night from Gail Doyle
Russell Sivey Contest: Pick a line any line! Sponsor: Richard Lamoureux 9/2/2013

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Upon your days, tedium has imposed, Dull shades have tinted your point of view, And each woman yearns the hues of a rose, A palette that blossoms solely for you. We, too, were buds once, so tender and small, The world had its thorns, but petals unfurled, A trellis we found, so stable and tall, ‘Til autumn came with its frosty upwhirl. My friend, we both know the strength of one bloom, When clipped to the quick it grows all the more, The charm of your words fills hundreds of rooms, I bestow a bouquet and shout “ENCORE!” ~ Lush Romanticas in rouged ivory ~ Gifted to you for your sweet poetry.
By Cyndi MacMillan, February 7, 2012 P.D., I really enjoyed bumping into you in the chat rooms. Your exuberance is needed here at Soup. Kooky, vibrant, honest and fierce. Yup! That’s you! PS- the Romantica Rose is the French version of the English rose, a ‘hardy’, beautiful rose that comes back again and again… ;-) If you can, click on the about this poem link for a photo of the Romantica.

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The call of the mountain

out and away from home there is a place
where all the tracks of foot have never been
away and within a nest there's a face
where all the faces on earth are unseen

where there is a breath there will be a life
among the rocks and between the evergreen
i can feel the warmth of the meek sunlight
when the rocks turn hot and the trees lean

what a bless to be in such company !
when the pure spirit of God is around
what sounds and sites chime in such harmony!
it's here where the true joys of life abound

lifetime in the streets nearly made me sick
too much noise beside heaps of smoking tar
the walking dead unaware, roaming the streets
as if some alien from decaying star

i packed my tools after the hills have called
a free ticket i got for the calling hill
home is up-there from whence comes the wild
that is more cozy than our streets that kill

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The will

The Will 
 The trees down the hillside have taken a more sober hue
 yellow, pale green and brown, despite the weather tries
  to pretend it is still summer and tourists wear sunglasses 
  when in jeeps they explore the mystic interior away from 
 sandy beaches and summer charming waiters who hope 
 the summer  will last  forever, without it they will soon be
 unemployed, yes, like it or not fall is here in all its glory,
 and it is also the time when I must write my will.

I stop at a layby and compose my testament, the house 
goes to my wife and money left in the bank after 
the funeral expenses. My literary estate goes to my 
brother, which means he gets nothing of value, anyway
he hates poetry, so this is my sweet revenge.
But I love fall and hope to live to see another one.   

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a couple's stroll

above an autumn's moonlit sky
'twas there in flight, a hurtled star
then visions land as from afar
what wants 'came focused on mind's eye
was it shining gold that called?
a better man it's left enthralled
fame and power? the skill to jest?
so many dreams, thy brain was mauled
but out from selfish musings sung
a thought so single, bright, and true!
on crisp night air I felt it hung
it melted over, then I knew
for next to me my lover strode
i wished for us a sweet abode

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We boomers, as our generation’s called,
have lived through two seasons, considered great,
during which our values were overhauled --
The Summer of Love and Autumn of Hate.
Both brought us together and gave us hope.
In the face of injustice, both were staged --
the first, a celebration with free dope,
the other a tragedy that enraged.
We were innocent in ‘Sixty-Seven;
we saw world violence and were appalled.
Our attitudes changed by Nine-Eleven;
we sought revenge, though we were shocked and galled.
While Winter of War passes, may we find
The Spring of Renewal and peace of mind.

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Enchanting Days of Fall

Slowly backs away the shadow that looms the morning
Fallen leaves gleams the ground, a new beginning.
The world went still, racking noises from inside subsided
Damp breeze feels like romantic dill, then and now collided.

Lull away into the afternoon chills, make no such haste
The whispers of the rustling leaves, slows the pace.
Familiar aroma fills the air of joyful childhood years
Be taken past traverse with the melody of holiday cheers.

Warm and cozy into the night, gaze at the skies with awe
Of glimmering stars adorns the view, and the moon’s afterglow.
Delight into the zenith of the enchanting midnight chime
And the wind’s murmurs, akin to frozen tales of time.

Passions renew, snuggle safe into the love’s sweet embrace
With a clean slate, this wistful season departs with glaze. 

© Arabelle Sanchez-Grospe 0823014

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the mare and I

The Mare and I

Georgia on my mind, I remember a song the sweetness of America, 
I have never been there but once I was in Huston, Texas, my ship 
was there for repairs. I rented a car and drove deep into 
the countryside which was hot and dry Just like in a western movie,  
I stopped at a dud farm and they gave an old mare to ride.
When tired of riding the mare and I walked side by side along dusty
tracks and tumbleweeds and I thought of Indians who lived here
and left no history behind other than baddies in western movies.
Both the mare and I knew while there might be historic changes and 
upheaval, human nature remains the same; it is about war and peace,
love, hate and jealousy...and finally death. But not quite that, above
all there is dignity and respect for life.  Texas has a big sun and it was
setting. “Home on the ranch” a song remembered. Time to get back
to the ocean and admire the dolphins and listen to their song. 

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Signs of autumn

The signs of autumn are upon us. Wow!
The Sun is heading south and harvesting
Is ready for a host of crops by now.
In early fall the days are warm as spring.
The leaves are turning yellow, some are red
And few are brown as yet. The oaken tree
Is dropping fruit and squirrels running ahead
Of other squirrels to claim a guarantee
Impending drops are won. The scent of leaves
Is carried by Septembers gentle breeze
Throughout the day bestirring memories
Of seasons past: A time of youth, who seized
The autumn moments with a measured scheme:
To laugh and play; to sing; to love and dream.

Details | Sonnet | |

Autumn in Albany

On northern hill and range and leaf again
  Flower the Toitoi - the Ponga's silver gild:
In planted field and alluvial plain
  Droved is the fatted calf and the earth tilled.
The long-tailed Pheasant foraging does sing
  In search of wild berries to feed among:
And up above in splendid chorus wing
  The Tui, Bellbird, and Grey Warbler song.
O to be a bird at first dawning light
  High above the dew shine of fallen leaves,
And the Macrocarpas in April flight
  When the blooms have shed and bare are the trees.
Soon the solstice will a changing invoke,
And idle woodfired stovepipes fill with smoke.


Albany is a small town in New Zealand.
Toitoi is a native coastal tussock grass.
Ponga is a native tree fern.
Macrocarpa is a cypress tree common to NZ.

April 1996

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Initiation Kiss

Moment like an autumn leaf, golden and gone;
Fruit scented like the autumn wind, joy winged
To eternity. Awake from dusk till dawn
Dream crowned in sweet surprise and love unkinged
I through the movie reel went twisting all night
Longing yet hessitant to face the light
And know again thóse bright eyes had sweet lips
Cool as sugar plum where gladness drips

Our eyes were customed to look and reverse
The intentions that drew them in silence
Up the basement stairs through darkness I'd traverse
Knew not whose footsteps tap near my presence
I saw the smile flashed, the liquid lips felt
Footsteps and smile fled, and I stood and melt.

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folkloric music

Folkloric music 

Portugal is not Lisbon it consists of small villages and districts
where people have their own songs, local costumes and sing 
songs relating to their world. To Alte they came for 
an evening of music and dance. What were the songs about, 
they were about hardship of working in the field looking after 
animals and milking cows and goats. But it was very sexy too, 
a woman sang, you can’t come to my bed unless you behave, 
and a man´s voice promised he would always take care of her 
if she would be a bit forthcoming. And there were songs about 
young love kissing in the hay stack and disapproving  parents. 

Like religions folk music has the sharing about love and human 
hardship, it doesn´t matter which country songs emits from 
 which religion they believe in; no it is about simple drama of 
love, jealousy, and chaste kiss under the olive tree of peace.     

Details | Sonnet | |

Persimmon Whiffler

(A Slant-rhyme Sonnet)
As autumn treads across our piebald patch,
she drops her frost to shelter, soft as wool, 
but brilliant blossoms curl in moonlight watch
and shrink beneath the snap of hoarfrost cool.

Then every critter lodged inside the farm
begins to hide a hoard of winter chow,
use nature’s fabric fluff to cradle warm
and stash in cache beneath the muted show.

Persimmon limbs are bowed with orange loot
which deer desire if hunger leaves them poor.
The frost has signaled time as under foot
true sweetness swells at autumn’s open door.

          I rush before the deer, with knife in hand
          to read the seed as weather forecast wand.

Details | Sonnet | |


We boomers, as our generation’s called,
have lived through two seasons, considered great,
during which our values were overhauled --
The Summer of Love and Autumn of Hate.
Both brought us together and gave us hope.
In the face of injustice, both were staged --
the first, a celebration with free dope,
the other a tragedy that enraged.
We were innocent in ‘Sixty-Seven;
we saw world violence and were appalled.
Our attitudes changed by Nine-Eleven;
we sought revenge, though we were shocked and galled.
While Winter of War passes, may we find
The Spring of Renewal and peace of mind.

Details | Sonnet | |

Autumn of souls

those breezes do tickle. unchained and pale

A lonesome autumn leaf prepare to fall

A dull morning where all yawning do fail

to cleanse empty spaces of crowded souls

Autumns cruel nights and early morning chill

brings void to life for young hearts to detest

This cold reckless dawn seems to linger still

untill yesterday's dreams lay down to rest

blank faced and senseless does tomorrow seem?

for no signs of joy this mighty wind tells

will the sunshine blossom a rose to gleam?

will the stormy thunder roar down and kill?

yet in the ashes of the past we crave

an autumn for a lost soul to get saved

Details | Sonnet | |

The Tritest Song

“Renewal…Easter,,,April love…rebirth”
Are easy, archetypal terms for when
Fresh shoots begin to green the thawing Earth
And fill with sweet clichés this poet’s pen.
At least I know what Spring is not—
The “cruelest” month’s not April, no,
In spite of Mister T. S. Elliot
Whose Spring and soul were both of snow.
But he was young.  Age brings surcease,
And Spring, forsythia and daffodils,
As flowered sonnets sprout, increase,
And decorate the rain-swelled rills.
Thus, in the landscape of my autumn brain
The hues of yellow and of green remain.

Details | Sonnet | |

My Spring

In all the trees for miles and miles around
A breeze is blowing with a gentle sound.
Their sunlit leaves, now rolling red, now gold,
Are like a flaming sea for me to hold.
And held within my sight beneath the blue
I feel Her living passion which is true
(The autumn will be swept away at last
While She comes flying back to hold me fast).
O sun, O sky, O earth, O all I see,
You only reach the slightest parts of me;
You are not She, who is the all I bind.
She enters every deep place of my mind,
And every light place, too; and I will stand
Here watching, waiting for my Spring to land. 

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The slow, murky, drought-affected river
Snakes its way around meandering shores.
Its surface littered with leaves upriver
Like colorful scales on a constrictor.
Within its gut swim impervious prey
That nourishes it along its lengthy
Journey to the sea. All along the way
Its subtle currents swallow whole, debris
Left in the wake of Octobers fury.
Unmindful Canada geese fly over
The leafy surface honking their carefree
Calls while negotiating their stopover.
Standing high on the bank is I, witness
To this autumn picturesque loveliness.

Details | Sonnet | |

Fine Red Wine

Eager red grapes on the vine just waiting
Color so deep, sugar sweet time has past
Voices in the fields, breathe for the baiting
Harvest soon, autumn smiles may not last

Passionate nectar in the juices' drop
Garner gold in the fingers of famine
Oh dear dream you have made this season stop
This pleasure of flavor is no mammon

Red flows innocent under pretty feet
Peeling the patience from a thirsty man
Pining for that draught to quicken his beat
But he must hold, theft is no righteous stand

Fine red wine your favor is in the cask
I will wait; I will wait for you to ask

Details | Sonnet | |

An Autumn Scene

The autumn sun shines through the near naked trees exposing recent abandoned thrush nests
those months before were hidden from Mans eyes. The lingering colored, crisp, dying leaves
precariously cling until late November winds and rain end their brief lives leaving only
their scented remains on the ground.

A scorpion sun shines through near naked
Trees exposing vacant, forsaken nests
Where blue robin eggs laid comfortable hid
From probing Mans eyes and unwelcome guests.
The lingering, colored, crisp, dying leaves
Cling to the branches precariously
Until the blustering wind starts to heave
Its gusts from the north unrelentingly. 
Apropos of rain it soon will follow
Deluging hapless, defenseless brown leafs.
The wind and the rain display a grand show
Dislodging the leaves whose lives were so brief.
After the lull of the wind and the rain
What’re left on the ground are scented remains.

Details | Sonnet | |

Help Yourself First

Why do you weep there, lonely soul?
Do you feel that you’ve lost control?
Have you not a friend to assist
To guide you through your autumn mist?

Do you not wish to turn around?
Can you not find solid ground?
Can you see a friend to guide?
Or, are you destined to just hide?

Can you see the future, so near?
Have you given up and into fear?
Lest you be prisoner to thine soul
Can you not resume control?

For you must decide to make your change
Unto your life, you must now rearrange

Details | Sonnet | |

Auf Weidersehen

Auf weidersehen

The autumn frosts strike suddenly
 and blight the last remaining few.
Sweet peas which have so cheerfully
 improved my outlook and my view.
I’m very sad to see them go.
It seems unfair that they must die 
although deep inside I know
 they must: I know the reason why.
They have put on their bravest show
 and stored their images inside
 their seeds. Which will next season grow 
and spread their offspring far and wide.
Although I’m sad I can still smile
 I’ll only miss them for a while.


Details | Sonnet | |

Erasing All Trace of Elaine

It’s true, I have forgotten you, Elaine,
Utterly, as leaves when leaving summer trees
Die unremembering, as they coast along the breeze
Toward autumn ground.  No souvenirs remain.

Blurred images efface and fade.  I cannot see your plain
White dress, bedecked with flowered fineries:
Poppies…yellow, orange, with Death-dark centers.  Please
Believe my love’s dissolved, drowned in Fall’s grey rain.

Through dimming years I’ll rarely, any more
View you in my imaginings.  Your summer-tinted hair
Of golden tawn recedes.  My lust cannot recall
Your criminally-carnal figure, or

Your rose-flushed mouth.  Romance lies in Death’s lair.
In autumn’s pall, I have forgotten all.

Details | Sonnet | |

Thief Of Time

Day changes to night without a whimper
Another day of time I can’t retrieve.
The thief of time blithely robbing the hours
From me, a felon that I never see.
I once had youth; my heart was young as spring
Where all life’s offerings were there for me.
But now the yoke that once connected things
Somehow became a distant memory.
Here I am in the autumn of my life
Clinging like a withered leaf on a tree
As the setting sun again turns to night
And the purloiner robs again from me.
How long must I suffer this living death?
Until the thief of time steals my last breath!

Details | Sonnet | |


A trail of smoke fades to an autumn dawn
as sounds of morning break unearthly still
arising to the day, some life goes on
while others have the fear it never will.

Some ashes drift about the morning air
appearing as do snowflakes in a stall,
to restless breezes they drift everywhere
and they are spread about before they fall.

Each life that was is slow in pure descent
and longing for the earth that pounds below
the mother of all life, where time is spent,
until time's all run out--it's time to go.

Down in the valley echoes from a train
awhistling here come the dead again.
 ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown PoeT
This Friday, 20 April, is observed as Holocaust Rememberence Day.

Details | Sonnet | |

Scents of Autumn

Clouds of dim fluffs of gray float within the season,
Colorful cascades boldly scrambled by the winds.
This spell is magically prepared for definite reason.
Cooler breezes flows in directions, Mother Nature sends.
Each period has its own delights, for our splendid lure.
Four different stages for acts of purpose, by design,
I cherish the scents of autumn, most of all for sure.
Along with what it delivers, from which we dine.
Leaves falling, floating sets off aromas to regain.
Cooling temperatures freshen the evening essence.
Bringing autumn dew, which this sense does ordain,
Although the Morning star will erase in evanescence,
Each returning phase brings scents of autumn a new.
With breathless anticipation, we watch its ending hue.