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Best Autumn Poems

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Details | Autumn Poem | |

Indian Ink

“Indian Accent”

Hear the whispers inside

Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow

A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices falling from the sky
Rising hymns release ancient demons that cling to the soul

The darkness dwells under gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World,
Exposing Indian hands that weave native smoke into the air
Their spirits taunting burrows from the muddy Earth
Moccasin makers rise from underneath
Guardians of dream catchers
Smooth thread from the outer edge, bowing heads.
Luminous gems of ivory,
Chasing a florid kiss.

Through the winds of enchanted drums, voices cry out for rain.
The hollow chimes mesmerize  
An ancient rage begins to flare
Stale madness, 
The spears of the perfumed buffalo skin pierced my senses
Removing the veils that cover my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Washing the scalp that bleeds on my face
They collect tears from memories of the past.

KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!

Raven silk braids, feathers fall from my hair.
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.

I AM A BIRD!

By; PD

Details | Autumn Poem | |

Where The Sycamore Grew

The house seemed smaller, now seen with older eyes...
The street seemed narrower, the trees taller..
Where once were open fields across the road
New construction had bloomed
The small fruit orchard had disappeared

But somehow we knew it would still be there....
Strangely different, ...yet much the same

There was an unfamiliar young child's tricycle
On the flagstone path that we laid...
In front of this little house that lies
Beyond the curve, where the old sycamore grew...

Suddenly, thirty years faded into that autumn day
And quickly had become a springtime of our lives..... 
...of first Christmas trees,..of first anniversaries...
            ...a place where I cried night after night when mother died...
                       ...and spent long, starry nights holding newborn babes....
Yes....it is all still there, in the little yellow house

Funny, but I'm glad they kept the yellow...
It has the same white shutters...
The little yellow house, with a flagstone pathway that we laid
That sits beyond the curve, where the old sycamore grew...


                                         ++++++++++++++++++


Details | Autumn Poem | |

Past-Life Nightmare

A child of four suffers recurring dreams,
disturbing parents and siblings with screams.
When she awoke, always sore in one knee;
next to a birthmark, it throbbed painfully.

Night after night she feared going to bed.
What caused these nightmares that raged in her head?
Even when grown, the torment persisted,
so a therapist’s aid she enlisted.

“Hypnosis,” said he, “might offer some clues.
Why not try it?  You’ve just bad dreams to lose.”
Once under, he guided her to a room --
here people’s lifetimes in books were entombed.

“Find one that is yours,” her counselor said.
Quickly she did, but before it was read,
she felt an ache, saw just a faint title.
The words, she thought, said “Alister Bridle.”

The hypnotic trance now suddenly broke;  
puzzling questions “Mr. Bridle” evoked.
For many years she thought that was her name;
perhaps a past life had been filled with pain.

Who was this man?  She simply had to know!
Seasons passed, summer suns made way for snow.
In Florida now, 1998,
she thought all the nightmares she had escaped.

But strange dreams always catch us by surprise --
when the lights grow dim, our minds fantasize.
Cloaked in velvet, she left her parents’ farm,
stealing away on a late autumn morn’.

To meet her love, she climbed on the carriage,
knowing her folks would forbid their marriage.
Warm-hued leaves carpeted the hillside road,
and her pulse beat fast; she’d soon join her beau.

She thought only of him; joy cast its smile,
but that’s when he called, “Alice, the bridle!”
The leather band broke and wrapped ‘round her knee.
To the ground she was pulled; her horse ran free.

She met death, but past-life dreams recycle,
and she’d never been “Alister Bridle.”



*Based on real events I experienced.

Details | Autumn Poem | |

FALL IN LOVE

F eeling enraptured, Autumn dances in the wind, then undresses.
A s bright robes fall to the ground, her passion paints the twilight skies.
L ike a nymph, she beckons, tossing her fiery auburn tresses.
L ongingly she sighs - September’s bliss lingering in her eyes.

I ndian summer days come; then they go.
N ights though chill, embrace her in indigo.

L ater, in November, her sweetness wanes.
O ctober cannot stay forever loving her.
V acantly she gazes through freezing rains.
E ndearments whispered - cease - when Fall loses ardor.


for the Romantic Acrostic Poetry Contest of Regina Riddle

Details | Autumn Poem | |

Winds of Autumn

I called to the winds of autumn
As they wrapped up the dying year;
"Oh stay for a moment and tell me
Of answers I need to hear".

Who is the rival of prudence
Who is the merchant of crime
Who closes the eyes of beauty
And steals the hours of time?
Who brings the winter to age
From the springs of the fountain of youth
Who is the companion of sorrow
And destroys the justice of truth?
Who's the apprentice of Satan
The Prince of the Power of Air
Whose appetite is transgression
With more than enough to share?
Who weakens the power of the great
Who slaughters the wisdom of wise
Who brings the honest and gracious
To depths that others despise?

The winds of autumn now answered
With a voice like a phantom call
"It's an evil afflicting so many
Who drown in the drink alcohol."
This is the spell of the devil
Who casts his net from hell
An addiction with power to destroy
Gathering all who are caught in its spell
For his net will gather the unwary
To beguile lost souls with his breath;
This is the destruction of lost dreams
That perish in the arms of death






Details | Autumn Poem | |

THE OLD OAK TREE


         Oh I am but a simple leaf
         withering within the gutter
         one summer of bliss
         now! Just an autumn flutter.

                   For some; destine to fall
                   upon stony ground, a part
                   of life’s infernal gyration.
                   Yet for those that fall
                   within your reach, to live
                   on within your soul!

         While limbs that stretch
         towards the solstice, create
         vivacious veins as channels of hope,
         a pledge of foliation continues
         to endure what spring has
         furnished; autumn expires. 

                   Yes! If we can but learn
                   from nature’s complex simplicity,
                   that life be of a cycle
                   from the seed we are conceived,
                   then let spring be my beginning
                   winter my exultant eve!

         Let our two cultures
         merge as one, the
         decomposed humus
         to become the sustenance;
         our transfusion the
         new beginning.

                   Let us breathe the
                   fragrance of born again;
                   let each slender limb,
                   stout body bear our
                   tenaciousness, each lyrical
                   leaf our life’s blood.

          Let us mollycoddle each
          precious tear that falls from a
          angry sky; dance gracefully
          upon the wind, embrace
          on moonless nights, bathe
           in summer madness.

                   Let us hear the bluebell call,
                   the daffodil pray, the apple
                   blossom bear witness; the
                   clamour of the field mouse
                   the pitapat of the butterfly
                   the silence of lovers in love.

             Let us be sanctuary to the
             symbolic songstress, scuttling
             squirrel, vulgar urchin;
             a fortress for the warrior
             a haven for the pacifist
             an inspiration for the poet!

 EPILOGUE 

                  The call of springtime
                   we will invoke,
                     logging representative
                      we will gladly choke;
                        nature’s guardian.
                          “This! Obliging old oak.”

Copyright Harry J Horsman 2000


        

         








Details | Autumn Poem | |

Windowpanes

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.

Details | Autumn Poem | |

In Strangler's Wood - tanka version

In forest dark where trees bend low
beneath a slice of half moon’s glow,
          silent shadows waver there,
          chilled by gusts of autumn air.

Quavering, as if afraid,
they fall on stumps from trees decayed.
     among those stumps the shadows creep
     and shroud a form that seems asleep.

Lightning flashes . . . Thunder peals.
A sight forlorn the light reveals
          a man, quite dead, in woolen coat,
          with scarf of death left on his throat.

The shadows saw, and now they quake,
lone witnesses in murder’s wake.
     They cannot speak, but if they could,
     they’d tell all travelers of the wood:

"We’re not the foe.  It’s one of you
that makes us tremble as we do.
          Although we loom and cause you fear,
          something worse is lurking here."

Then Thunder echoes in accord
as from the sky, cold rain is poured.
     And silent shadows start to shrink
     into a night of blackened ink.


At a dead man’s throat lies the rain drenched woolen scarf that stifled his screams. Cold Wind howls through decayed trees - witnesses in the shadows. For Debbie Guzzi's Metamorph Poetry Contest a rhyming poem changed to a tanka

Details | Autumn Poem | |

Watercolours in the Rain

~*~ Summer to Autumn ~*~ Expresses blooms of beauty, ~ primary pastels ~ whilst impending changes loom ~*~ Water colours in the rain ~*~ http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-13.php

Details | Autumn Poem | |

Autumn

A mong the ash, the beech, the birch they fall,
U nder the boles of white, beige and gray,
T hickening piles, a golden cabal; 
U nvarnished leaves all in disarray. 
M audlin, they lack the rouge kissed spark of red
N earby, oaks brown, await the children's tread. 


* an acrostic done as an English Sestet

9-29-14

Details | Autumn Poem | |

Soft September

She lay there bare at the bottom of the tree
A red brick leaf resting close to ground 
Soft and warm by the morning sun
She lay lifeless for a while 
Until the wind picked up 
Then she danced freely 
Round the old trunk  
The apple 
Rocked on 
Perched 
On 
The tree 
As if it 
Were an autumn 
Crisp delight for me 
I plucked the sweet apple 
And ate, to my hearts delight 
Then I took the leaf and pressed it 
Between the pages of my Bible 
In memory of a soft, September day  

September 27, 2014


Details | Autumn Poem | |

Autumn Reverie

Shifting haze, so slowly trailing
Through wood and field, now veiling
Melancholy skies, holding back the tears
With wild geese flying to meet other years.
Flames of crimson torches come flinging
Leaves on knarled branch swinging; 
Desolate winds rush leaping
Taking flowers to their final sleeping.
In the groaning of the atmosphere
Unfolding sorrows weep with the fading year;
Fields of cluttered stubble are tangled
With rampant weeds, dew drop spangled.
Flocks of birds leave like flying missiles
Over fields of corn and drying thistles;
Then my dream of autumn fades, paling
Through a grandeur all prevailing
When sunset fires light sky and sea
And sink in the breath of serenity.



Details | Autumn Poem | |

Will Shepard

The day Will Shepard shot my dog
His barn burned to the soil;
The flames licked at the Autumn sky,
The smoke as black as oil.
I dropped the torch onto the earth,
And felt the whole world turn,
I stood and watched Will Shepard’s barn,
I stood and watched it burn.

The day Will Shepard shot my dog
I set his horses free,
They galloped over grass and sand,
They galloped to the sea;
I dropped my whip onto the floor
And thoughts turned to my gun
I stood and watched Will Shepard’s herd,
I stood and watched them run.

The day Will Shepard shot my dog
I put him in the ground,
My bullets found his heart and brain,
He fell without a sound;
And as his lifeblood ebbed away
And light fled from his eyes,
I stood and watched Will Shepard leave,
I stood and watched him die.

And now I sit here in my cell
And through the bars I spy
The carpenter with wood and nails,
Who builds my gallows high;
My vengeance has been satisfied
As far as I can see,
For that old dog Will Shepard shot
Meant all the world to me.

Details | Autumn Poem | |

Autumn Colours

i am surrounded by a blaze of  flaming colors in God's garden.
autumn happily creating with her palette in hand the September scape.

a thousand shades of reds, yellows, browns, earth tones spread,
blended perfectly by the artist's loving hand, a sensual delight.
a masterpiece, sketched against a bark colored scrim of nature's flesh.

with my eyes opened wide and my body clothed in autumns light 
quenched but still wanting, unwillingly i stagger away, drunk from exposure.







Maurice Yvonne
September 2 2014

Details | Autumn Poem | |

The Rose

Tis the rose that wants to live
That rails against the frost,
Tightly closed, the petals warm
The autumn heart that summer lost.

The dew that drips from rose to leaf
Like tears from cheek to breast,
Once was cold, now shimmers warm
To earn, at last, its' rest.

The blackened bud, once struck with cold
Appears to others dead,
But burns within, a passionate soul,
And heart of bright and crimson red.

And bursting forth it cannot hide
The will to live within,
Its' bold and subtle softness tells
Persistent hearts can win.





Details | Autumn Poem | |

Summer's Interlude

Beneath a lovers’ moon,
Summer breezes in.
In still-cool primrose evenings
lingering from spring,
she whispers in my ear.
I hear. . .
honey bees near lilacs,
whippoorwills in leafy trees,
and somewhere. . . 
A hoot owl in the night.

Beneath a beaming sun,
Summer carries on
inhaling and exhaling sultry days.
On languid afternoons beyond
a yellow flowered meadow, she finds me
as I wade into a stream. Warmly, 
she breathes upon my cheek.  I feel. . .
the squish of mud beneath my toes,
cool water all around me, and
tiny tadpoles flitting round my knees.

Beneath an autumn moon,
Summer slips away
sigh. . .ing  into
still-hot waning days.
I smell her fragrance in the blooms
of asters that I pluck;
I see her in a golden-glitter dusk and
I hear her in the cries 
of wild geese across the sky
calling out to me her last goodbye.


Details | Autumn Poem | |

Gone Forever

Here I sit amongst the long grasses and the reed,
in a solitary place, where my breath is freed,
on an Indian Summer's evening on the lake bed,
autumn has come, yet the warmth has not fled.

Blazing orange skies, are mirrored to reflect,
I cannot imagine a scene being any more perfect,
as I looked up, an unfallen leaf caught my gaze,
spotlighted in the sun's last golden rays.

I noticed this crimson leaf as it began to wave,
the end of a short life that I could not save,
then swept away suddenly by the wind's rake,
and ripples formed as it landed on the still lake.

The leaf was carried away and my eyes followed,
then drowned by the water's surface and swallowed,
windy fingertips tugged it from the branch to sever,
existing once, like today, and then was gone forever.








Note - This was my original idea for the poem "The leaf",
but it was revised for a contest. I just wanted to post both 
versions of the poem.



Details | Autumn Poem | |

ONE AUTUMN NIGHT

Our shadows are silhouetted against the fading orange sky.
A blanket of russet and brown leaves carpet the ground
Like tiny children we kick the wind blown leaves, hearing them crunch under our feet
The silvery moon casts its eerie glow, illuminating the trees
Branches once dripping with their coats of leaves are now naked and exposed
The biting wind reminds us that summer is just a distant memory
Pulling our hoods over our heads we hurry home to a roaring fire

09~06~14
Contest:- One Autumn Night
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A

Details | Autumn Poem | |

Obstacles

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.

Details | Autumn Poem | |

Upon Longfellow bridge

Upon Longfellow bridge
(Street lights)

The Autumn leaves shift colors in the breeze
and some, above the land, will travel far
as whisperings inside the woods appease
through nature's flawlessness transmit, and mar.

Abundantly the light diffuses fore
the sun deluges neath the distant ridge
and offers the impression we lived yore,
October was, upon Longfellow bridge.

The twilights of the Autumn so expand
to hail the stars on Massachusetts towns;
my freshman attitude enfold, unplanned,
while lithe the night the street lights casts and crowns.

In darkness, still, the street lights blink before
the night retreats beneath the distant ridge
and offers the impression we lived yore,
October is, upon Longfellow bridge.

© 10-01-2014, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic pentameter)

Sponsor: nette onclaud
Contest Name: FIND THE PUZZLE! 
T A R N D A I


Details | Autumn Poem | |

One Autumn Night

Beneath a moonlight black velvet sky
Where scarlet leaves from the Maple fly
On November’s  wind and breathless sighs
And a lone coyote’s distant cry
You and me where hints of winter lie
Frost nipping our toes as autumn dies
I am warmed by the love in your eyes


Author: Elaine George
September, 2014


 

Details | Autumn Poem | |

Of Days Gone By

Sometimes I laugh
Sometimes I cry
Sometimes I dream
Of Days gone by

Life was hard, each day we learned
We never wanted what we hadn’t earned
A handshake at the bank was the only must
Lives were built on faith and trust

Friday night dances at the school’s old gym
Pledge of Allegiance and a morning hymn
In the Spring, caterpillars all over the trees
Stop at the candy store for jujubes

Pinball machines and wiffle balls
Growing to serve, duty calls
Decorating the car for the football game
Jumping in leaves when Autumn came

Watch a parade on Decoration Day
Visit the grave, a prayer we’d say
Meet at the diner after class
On Christmas Eve, go to Midnight Mass

Play in the street until well after dark
Climbing trees at the local park
Baking potatoes on an open fire
Riding  a bike after patching  a tire

Delivering newspapers in all kinds of weather
Put a nail in a bat to hold it together
Counting stars while lying in the grass
Standing under a pavilion until the rain would pass

Sometimes I laugh
Sometimes I cry
Sometimes I dream 
Of days gone by.

Details | Autumn Poem | |

The Universe of You

THE UNIVERSE OF YOU I have never seen a flower blush when I took it's hue and held it there a prisoner captive to my view. I have always heard the song that's in the autumn breeze playing taps in harmony with the forest leaves. I love the smell of rain that brings the springtime into bud and swells my love of nature into a teeming flood. I celebrate the cycle of the daytime into night and find an equal blessing in the shadow and the light. I've always felt affinity for all created things and surrender to the pleasure that their beauty brings. And though I could spent a lifetime sailing drops of dew I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you. I've often sat myself by gentle mountain streams and overflowed the dams that were holding back my dreams. I've breathed the scented forest on the mountainside and washed away my sorrows in an evening ocean tide. I've laid down in a meadow and debated with the moon and spent some quiet moments on the surface of Neptune. I got married to a zodiac with one of Saturn's rings then spied a super nova and went on a cosmic fling. I've run away to nebulae in galaxy brochures and bathed in scenes of wonders on distant planet shores. Every cosmos in creation could parade before my view but I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you. I've never seen a tree once withdraw it's shade and deny a creature the comfort of its aid. I've never seen any anger in the sun at noon when it burns relentlessly on the desert dune. At sunrise I take an oath to live with all my might and reinforce my gratitude each and every night. I could spend some hours riding on a crystal flake drifting wildly in a gale mindless of my fate. Many times I've been through trials or wind and rain and snow then sentenced to the splendors that the seasons show. And though I've searched throughout creation, I must say this is true I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.

Details | Autumn Poem | |

Aster 'Blue Autumn'

(This is a specific type of Aster with full name Aster 'Blue Autumn') Aster 'Blue Autumn,' summer wanes. The shining sky of dusk is drenched in splendor. Tremulously, I watch shadows that arrive all to soon-to purloin sun's last rays. Aster 'Blue Autumn,' how you thrive in fields amidst a throng of goldenrod! And always you forego the chill of nights that come to steal away the last of Summer's days. Aster 'Bue Autumn,' Virgo aches, and you're re-birthed from star dust that she cries- to bloom beneath blue skies until the fatal time when breath is snatched . . . Pensively I wait. For Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver's ~ Flowers or Stones ~ Poetry Contest

Details | Autumn Poem | |

At Summer's End

When Autumn veils my season's smile and lingers in the air a while . . . though Indian days be gold spun, my summering will come undone. Night's shadows fall more quickly now; birds sooner too forsake their bough. No tarrying for old friend Sun when summering becomes undone. Oh, warmth of Summer, leave me not. Through Winter's frost I grow distraught. The melancholy has begun; my summering will come undone. As Autumn veils my season's smile, my summering will come undone.