Best Autumn Poems
INDIAN INK
Indian Accent, form 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 fall from the sky, rising hymns release
ancient demons CLINGING to the SOUL!
Darkness dwells under - gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World!
Weaving Native smoke into the barren air
Indian spirits haunt the muddy Earth
Moccasin makers rise from underneath,
While guardians of dream catchers - print the Universe
Smooth thread from the outer world.
Arrowheads, Ivory gems, feathers, and illusions
I stumble upon a florid kiss....... My veins!
Run cold, like ice through a desert night.
Winds of enchanted drums - cry out for rain
Hollow chimes mesmerize, my ties, my eyes
An ancient rage begins to flare --- MADNESS!
takes place among the sanity of who I am
The spear of perfumed buffalo scrapes my skin
I remove the veil that covers my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Drying the scalp that bleeds on my face
KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!
Raven silk braids and feathers on 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!
_________
The sun-yellow house seems smaller somehow,
viewing it now, after all these years...
The street seems narrower, and the trees have grown tall..
And where once open fields spanned both sides of the road,
there are small tract houses, where fences have bloomed.
Neighboring orchards have all disappeared
But, somehow we knew the house would be there....
As if seen from a distance, edged by seasons, yet clear
There's the path that we laid one hot summer day,
in the yard of this house that sits at the bend
near the end of the road, where the sycamore grew....
Someone else left their footprints that lead to the door
There's a rusty-red bike, and a skate left behind
by the squeaky old gate, that tomorrow will find.
As suddenly as wind will spring from the dust
thirty years fell away, and flew into in the past
And quickly alive, all the memories rise,
like a whirlwind of leaves, in a springtime of lives.....
_____
...Our first Christmas trees, and our first holidays...
Anniversaries we spent with just pizza and wine
The place where I cried long into the night,
as the child in me grieved for a mother who died...
Long, starry nights, I was bathed by the moon
rocking my babes to a lullaby tune
_____
Yes....it is all captured there, in the small yellow house
Our very first house, with the snow-white trim
Strange, it may be, but I'm glad it's still yellow...
Still wearing the face of the warm summer sun
The sun- yellow house, with a flagstone path
Where old slate stones bring the sun to the door
It's a path we laid on a warm summer day
in a place that we knew as our very first home
Just a small yellow house, with its snow-white trim...
that sits 'round the bend, where the sycamore grew...
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.”
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.
At a dead man’s throat
lies the rain drenched woolen scarf
that stifled his screams.
Cold Winds howl through decayed trees -
witnesses in the shadows.
I stand at the wooded edge
where goldenrod bows with the wind's wave
its yellow heads nodding in agreement.
A chickadee perches
its heart a tiny drum of joy
echoing the forest's pulse.
In this moment a smile radiates—
not mine but the earth's—
a ripple spreading
a gentle caress touching all it meets.
A maple leaf lets go
red-gold luminous
spinning down in a silent dance
a quiet farewell to summer's warmth.
I catch it as a gift.
How strange, this silk
between bird, leaf, and human
this quiet belonging that holds
as frost approaches.
What is this feeling
but love's quiet whisper?
This moment
but life itself, distilled
to its essence?
And now, having tasted
this wild sweetness
how will you carry
your one precious life?
Under the Stars
Breathtaking
poetic passions,
lavender skies
in the gloaming.
The lure of lavender
reflections,
the heavens are open.
Suddenly,
crystal rain.
What
a divine cascade~
romantic waters,
dazzling
bodies of light
starbright!
Tranquility
on becoming enlightened.
Autumn's breeze~
windsongs~
Luna's light...
Oh my love
it is quiet tonight,
hold me
under the stars.
A glimpse of heaven,
a place of enchantment,
anima mystique~
always you.
Oh poet,
behind closed eyes,
my soul belongs to you.
You are so beautiful
amour,
many lifetimes
in the shadows.
The wonders of love,
divine inspiration
under the stars.
Seasonal dance tonight.
8-1-22
~Seventh Place Premiere Contest~
ANYTHING GOES Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose |
5-31-22 rev.
~Fifth Place Premiere Contest~
What Fascinates Me
Fascination and Awe Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser
*This poem was created from my poem titles and strung
together so they make sense.
We are apples growing on our parent's tree, planted by our grandparents from the apples of our great-grandparents ~ author
October skies still reflect in your eyes
the way they once did on that day we were wed.
Autumn's bright leaves recall fond memories
of sweet days together even through stormy weather.
Once we were young, with our songs still unsung
As we wondered, "How's it feel to grow old?"
Nights fell, the months turned, new calendars came,
Now leaves in chill weather, in love, fall together
in orange, red, yellow, and gold
The sunrise has faded, our sunset is near
The springtime has passed and the winter
we once thought we'd fear
is now here,
this love we still share brings a tear.
The season's deep magic hides changes within,
A rose's young bloom that won't open again,
like children that change right in front of our eyes -
the soft painted ceiling of October skies.
// My grandparents had an October wedding. This song was a gift to them on their 60th anniversary. //
written October 1979
She rests beneath her willow’s weeping rain,
As autumn strips them bare behind its theft;
Of slender leaves and tears, they stand bereft,
Yet sorrow, like the wind, begins to wane.
For all that falls to earth won't fall in vain,
And what escapes our sight has not yet left;
Though heavy hearts must carry now this heft,
It's how we know what’s lost to still remain.
And from the tears, the grieving willow weeps,
Its twigs and leaves descend to softened ground,
Reclaimed by earth and soil from which they grew.
For all that's ever buried merely sleeps,
And what we mourn as lost again is found,
When spring returns, and life begins anew.
Oh, splendorous, spectacular, resplendent autumn!
Boldly you dye cypress ~ flaunting ochre, cinnamon,
Yellowing sugar-maple, glazing tangerine emotions,
As scarlet winds warble in accents of majestic aspens,
Responding in purple whispers, tupelo leaves flutter
Reminiscing in revelries evoked by red-oak crimson
Lingering in blazing meadows, enchanting red maple.
Oh, autumn! fly me there, into depths of the season,
Frolicking upon gamboge hills, wrap me in your vision,
Tour with me dazzling terrains of flamboyant foliage
Composing deep pleasure in brilliant changing colors,
Hang your portrait upon cobalt cliffs of ruby horizon
Painting blushing hearts in amber hints of setting sun,
Mindful still of wistful shudders quivering barren trees
And unsung withering yearnings of falling golden leaves,
Aspiring blossoming kisses--on lips of flowering spring.
Autumn Afterglow
As halcyon summer days
wave goodbye
Bucolic trees seen from
an autumn sky
Become a cynosure
of colored bliss
So heat of summer days
we will not miss.
When dawn's hoarfrost gleams
on gossamer seams,
As diamonds are bestowed
by sunlit beams
With pastiche of rainbow
hues in tall trees,
Leaves begin their dance
when cool zephyrs tease,
Imbued with beauty and
susurrus sound
A wayward wafture before
touching ground.
7-19-22
~7th Place Premiere Contest~
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
10-30-18
A Personal Favorite Poem Written in 2018~First Place~
Contest Judged: 12/12/2018 4:26:00 AM
Sponsored by: Carolyn Devonshire
EARLY NOVEMBER 2018,ANY FORM,ANY THEME,UPTO A MAX OF 20 LINES
Sponsored by: Brian Strand ~First Place~
SEASONAL OR UNSEASONAL Poetry Contest~5th Placement~
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
F l y i n g
a sailing tailwind
in cerulean streams
through creamsicle colored beams -
are wings reflective of turquoise truth
and white purity
of Autumn’s ether -
he aviates
a clear troposphere
riding an unbridled
capricious and combative
boreas
on the cusp
of a new season
with a plumage infusion
of shifting Cape Cod skies
the blue jay mixes hues
with the Northern azure
that fades to shades
of turmoil
to the South and East -
becoming lost
in its milky breadth..
its lilting light..
its dimming depths..
where the edge of rustic rural
meets the sandy ridge of conifers - crooked
twisted and back-bent
from gales
of salt-sprayed sorcery
bold bluster
leading the charge
of a cold sapphire crest
is bedeviled
by the raw
tongue-lashing spin
of a brooding onshore flow
twirling
a brewing brawl -
whirling
in slate pearlescent space -
s w i r l i n g
with the dusky feistiness
of stormy petrels..
mobs of darkening fog
fatten
on summer’s fainty surrender —
leftover tints of tender cornflower
and hints of dainty dove..
there’s a sparkle
in the eye of the storm..
his mischievous black gaze
mirrors
the harsh harbinger
of commotion
clash and change --
his piercing “jay-jay” jabs
the maddening mayhem
of menacing air
with the emerald-needled sharpness
of wind-weary pitch pines
anchoring
the beige of coastal dunes
where his refractive blues
take cover
in colorful contrast
ahead
of the bruising
October nor’easter
https://youtu.be/-gDinVAmtA0
Chopin Nocturnes
Listen....autumn rain is gently falling
Within enchanted hour of twilight sky.
In my heart, Chopin is softly calling
Lovely piano notes that make me cry.
As Luna slowly rises in the east
Her soft lambent glow lightly veiled in shrouds,
Taming the spirit of both man and beast
By roaming mesmerizing misty clouds.
My spirit soars within this peaceful scene
Enthralled by every note of Chopin's tune.
Beguiled in nature's calm, I feel serene
As stars appear and mingle with the moon.
This music and enchanted night reveal
New hope my mourning heart will one day heal.
January 13, 2021
Poem of the Day January 14, 2021
I stop to watch the eagle soar.
At dawn his silhouette flies high
Through brilliant tinted scarlet sky.
Below the gorge at valley’s floor,
The creatures rise up one by one;
A quest for food has just begun.
I listen to the fierce winds roar.
Descending from the north they blow
And carry in the first light snow.
They make the river crest the shore
When swirls of vivid hues abound
Dancing before they touch the ground
As autumn breezes in once more.
I marvel at the leaves in flight
And wonder where they will alight.
I stop to watch the eagle soar.
Below the gorge at valley’s floor,
I listen to the fierce winds roar.
They make the river crest the shore
As autumn breezes in once more.
7-29-20
~Poem of the Day July 31, 2020~
Constanza Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
Thank you very much Team Poetry Soup and members for this honor.
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 of 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.