Best Indian Corn Poems

Russet sunset overpowering coolness of the day
Showing herself in reds and yellows, 
Streaking through October’s pumpkin patches

Straw scarecrows decorating autumn porches
With their stationary smiles and their googly eyes
Staring from fall displays of gourds and Indian corn

Banana bread and pumpkin bread smells
Wafting from the kitchen of...

Continue reading...

My pure white pumpkin,
well, maybe more a gourd,
was given to me, free.
Now that, I can afford!

I mustn't waste this gift,
for it came from the heart.
I'll plan it out well,
before I even start.

An eye hole goes here,
then a sinister sneer.
A carved scar or two,
maybe even pointed...

Continue reading...

October ochre sage writhes betwixt winter’s loom and the summers gone     astray
Chartreuse spilling out of season’s way to darker afternoons bewitched by greys
Tainted tinge of hints upon newly painted trees and then plumes are plucked and fade away
Ocarina songs of birds...

Continue reading...

A Blustery Autumn Day

Mischievous bursts of autumn’s laughter
Pulls down the last of the season’s bright artistry
 Carried away on blustery gusts,
  Weaving a tapestry of autumn’s magic
    In tiny whirlwinds of yellow, orange and umber –
     Floating...

Continue reading...

Grandma planted Indian corn
carefully in the sod.
She had no more money,
but she did believe in God.
Grandma watered what she'd sown.
She said a silent prayer.
A few months later healthy corn
grew in the clearing there.
It fascinated me
that from so small a seed
such good could come from American...

Continue reading...

Nascent poetic tribute to black history month...
crafted before onset when people of color  
got acknowledged for twenty eight or nine days
depending if leap year occurred. 

Though I yam Caucasian,
rightful to honor most bitter
racist genocidal crime,
nonetheless ovation qua
one non WASPish critter
buzzfeeds kickstarts poetic hitter,
viz quintessential...

Continue reading...

though I yam Caucasian,
   tis rightful to honor that most bitter
racist genocidal crime
   nonetheless ovation qua

   quintessential significant contribution
   vis a vis that doth litter
   anonymous multitudinous peoples
   many unknown dark skinned souls

...

Continue reading...

September slipped in on the wind
 a gentle light breeze of warmth
 sliding in between the clouded sky
 pale blue powder dusting the sun.
The garden yawned preparing for rest
 each flower breathed a last final effort
 a bloom ready to rest to return in spring
...

Continue reading...

I want you to know
That I love you more 
Than all of my Octobers
Which is not to say
There are a lot of them
Even though there are
But what I mean is

I love you more warmly
Than hot cinnamon apple cider
On a brisk autumn morning
When I can just...

Continue reading...