Best Introspectionautumn Poems
September tries to convince herself,
Making pretend that she is really, truly,
A Summer month, albeit one of dying fire,
Holding at bay the chill of Autumn winds.
October plays temptress with her Duality;
Sun to warm the back of your flannel shirt,
With punkin' frosting nights, crisp and cold.
Air so clear it sears the throat like a glass of cider.
November comes dark, wet and gloomy.
An ancient harridan forced to bridal bed.
Chanting "fools, there's time before winter comes,
Still time enough for love."
December mutters in her sleep........
September wind is blowing cold,
And Summer warmth is giving way;
Soon Nature’s green will turn to gold,
Her Autumn leaves all set aflame
I pray I can escape once more
Into her woods and steal away –
To hold her vivid beauty bound
If only for a moment’s sake;
So when December sends her first
Of downy flakes upon the earth,
My heart won’t shiver at her ways,
For I’ll remember Autumn days.
Autumn leaves fall
at time's cruel call.
Falling, falling endlessly
caught in the grip of gravity.
For an instant, no doubt,
some dance all about
caught in whatever winds may be
Seemingly free
of gravity.
All will fall eventually.
Mere metaphor, it's my belief
I too am but an autumn leaf.
Ah! To be adrift upon the boundless sea sailing, sailing, sailing!
Alone with sea and pristine sky with southerly winds prevailing.
No particular destination in mind as upon the surging sea I plod,
Nor is there another soul in view as I quietly commune with God!
Ah! To be alone at night in the desert pondering, pondering, pondering!
I lie to refresh my weary bones after a day of vagabond wandering.
Savoring the soothing quietude with gentle zephyrs caressing my face,
Gazing heavenward as constellations wink at me from outer space!
Ah! To scale the highest mountain where even eagles dare not fly!
The precious solitude of it all! I can reach out and touch the sky!
Such divine inspiration it brings to this mere mortal's languid soul,
As God's Creation beyond is revealed for me to relish and extol!
Ah! To amble down a forest path when autumn leaves adorn the trees!
Gold and crimson leaves waft about me, stirred by an occasional breeze!
I'm awed by The Master Artist's handiwork no mere artist dare portray.
This priceless solitude and beauty I shall treasure forever and a day!
Ah! To lie 'neath a shade nigh a rippling stream and dream, dream, dream!
Watching vagabond clouds scudding across the sky is solitude supreme!
I suppose that there are many folks who prefer mingling with the multitude,
But I treasure time alone to dream, write and muse in peaceful solitude!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Like a warm summer’s day
her infectious smile
can melt even the most cynical heart,
Like the boisterous south easterly
that clears away the city’s fog
her mood sways from jubilant to poignant,
Like a thunderous night
that holds the promise of a beautiful day to follow
her anger melts like a glacier to form crystal streams,
Like the Indian monsoon
her tears flow without warning
drenching all thoughts,
Like the autumn leaves fall
so does her reticence
Like the icy Icelandic tundra
her aloofness
can be felt when she is betrayed…
Like a full moon promises change
so does her demeanor
when it comes to love,
Easily hurt
but just as easily loved…
Contest: Tell Me About You
Placed: 4th
In the midst of meditation
Sinking into silence
In the setting sun
Comes the haunting hoot
Of an obscure owl
In the nearby autumn woods
Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo!
Echoing the quiet question
Resonating in the recesses
Of my primordial mind,
Who, Who, Who, Who
Am I?
In withered dreams
and severed stars
upon the moon
so very far
dance with dusk
and silver light
is the beauteous rose
and jeweled butterfly-
With colors that
match the wanton soul
freedoms rebirth
awaken the rose
sadness no one knows-
Death is but rebirth
on gilded dreams
ancient prose
of what life means-
Give me light
so that I may
be ever near
the Autumn butterfly
to never fear-
for therein is life
to see the colors
and not know strife-
Along the northern highway,
Between the earth and sky,
My traveled soul is searching
For something left behind
It could be in the mountains
That cradled as I passed,
My younger heart too willing
To see your face at last
It could be in the rivers
That wound about the road,
Escaping to the forest
In silver streams of cold
It could be in the fields
That stretched to meet clouds,
So deathly gray and saddened
Above the sleeping towns
It could be in the tree tops
That found us lying there,
Amid the sacred silence
Of pine and autumn air
It could be in the fire
That roared within the hearth
Too long ago in winter
To warm this weary heart.
When we were 7... 8,
We knew how to appreciate
Autumn breeze brushing leaves
Summertime and short sleeves
Sprinklers sprinkling spring lawn
Naptime after big yawn
The simplest things were great
When we were 7….8.
By the time we turned 15
We needed impressive things
More shoes and better clothes
To be the first one always chose
Entertainment that was bought
Things our parents never got
We were greedy little things
By the time we turned 15.
We thought good meant plenty
When we were in our 20’s
The more who saw, who came
The more, or less, we were left same
Always running, engines gunning
Never saw the changes coming
Some lost big before big winnings
When we were in our 20’s.
We were coming into prime
When after 30 came 45
We knew to play the game
Meant we must accept some pain
Some still training, some were ready
To get what was worth getting
We both dared and dreaded life
When after 30 came 45.
More generous while more thrifty
Were the years following 60
We were giddy when not sound
Glad to be still above ground
We knew then how to laugh
At saddest things when looking back
We withstood wet weather, windy
In the years following 60.
The end much like beginning
Depending on how dark the tinting
On memories in mind’s knapsack
After last yawn, before long nap
Of waterfalls in summertime
And youthful rolling hills we climbed
Once more, we appreciate
Springtime fancies and autumn days.