Best September Poems
"September, beautiful month of my birth, is nigh, but I cannot feel glad."
September, drifting in with glow of moon,
you stifle Summer’s ardor. . . and she grieves.
In guise of fire, the Fall comes all too soon.
Your breath grows cool. You’ll blow and loosen leaves.
The hills and woodlands will reflect new hues.
You stifle Summer’s ardor. . . and she grieves.
In Autumn’s chill, the colors are a ruse!
You're passing on, and trees are set ablaze.
The hills and woodlands then reflect new hues.
Though warmth may linger through your final days,
old Sun is waning, yet he still seems strong!
You're passing on, and trees are set ablaze.
September, you’re a melancholy song.
Though time be short, you paint a brilliant dusk!
Old sun is waning, yet he still seems strong.
October looms. . . Your ending will be brusque.
September, drifting in with glow of moon,
though time be short, you paint a brilliant dusk.
In guise of fire, the Fall comes all too soon.
8/29/11
for the '2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 7' Poetry Contest of Mark Toney
red rooftops appear to glow in rainy-day haze
lost in memories of pre-war bliss
she looks up to watch them bleed
pain is its own reward sometimes
better than the numbness
she so desperately seeks to leave behind
tiny poodle escorts her on La Rue de la Paix
peace has come to Paris at last
but in her heart, agony lingers
she heard the Fuhrer took his own life
cyanide and a bullet, too merciful for a demon
how her sweet Emil must have suffered in the death camp
his last gift to her, a red umbrella to offer shelter
at a time when he so direly needed protection
from horrific torture, starvation, gas chambers
footsteps behind her; she pivots, her poodle barks
what’s this? is rain playing tricks on her eyes?
he presses his lips on hers and she knows
yes, yes, these are Emil’s lips
still clad in a prisoner’s striped uniform, he holds her
she feels his ribs as they embrace
autumn rain soaks the fashion district near their home
while a violinist in a nearby café plays Chant des Partisans
overwhelmed, she wonders, is this a dream or is he home to stay?
*Written November 1, 2018
N/A in The Red Umbrella Contest
Contest judged that 11/13/2018
Sunlight falls in breezy dapples
across your lichened stone,
solace now I seek in chapel’s
old yard while we’re alone.
It brings my heart back, being here -
love; that I remember,
the autumn brings a tender tear
season of September.
Neath supple sways my prayerful praise
I offer you a hymn;
may dreams evergreen be always
blessed to soulful brim.
...church bells black -
they toll the hours
mourning time
since you’ve been gone.
Losing you
and laughter ours
wrong side of Heaven
I am on...
Green leaves that sigh like grieving silk
have not yet turned to red,
memories sweet as mother’s milk
will nurse through snows ahead.
It brings my heart back, being here -
love; that I remember,
the autumn brings a tender tear
season of September.
It was in September that Poetry first came to me -
a time when summer’s embers, for me had not yet caught fire
until, that is, Poetry walked casually toward me
wearing bell bottoms and a young man’s angel face.
Visited by such exquisite grace, I felt the spark of sweet desire’s flame.
Our kisses in the night made my spirit sing; the flame leapt higher.
Yes, a night to remember is what my angel boy gifted me,
and though the fall was near, I was in the springtime of my youth.
The years have come and gone gone gone
Memories of my old flames are cinders now, softly glowing In my mind.
They cannot be revived to brightly glow again; they are the past.
After Poetry walked in all those years ago,
a few decades passed. One day I felt the urge to put pen to paper.
Recalling nostalgically the fire that once had so consumed me,
tender words flowed from me; passion was reborn!
Recreating fantasy, I became the lady who danced the unicorn,
who lived, and who still lives romance, again and again and again,
for the passion now is in my pen!
It was in September that Poetry first came to me.
I just didn’t know it then.
An innocence we used to know
As morning dourly turns to night
Entombed beneath an ashen snow
A cell phone yearning for hello
With hopes of answer growing slight
An innocence we used to know
Within a stampede’s torrid flow
Bifocals lost in jostled fright
Entombed beneath an ashen snow
A playbill from three days ago
Once read with wonder and delight
An innocence we used to know
Pillars raised in commerce glow
Now broken pencils thrown in spite
Entombed beneath an ashen snow
So many hearts in fervent throes
So many souls in heaven’s sight
An innocence we used to know
Entombed beneath an ashen snow
Chopped - Poetry Contest
Including:
Playbill dated 08 Sep 2001
Cell Phone
Broken Pencil
Bifocals
-23 Oct 2014-
Nourished by garland skies of scarlet blue
And velvet grass in golden green festoon
September wed us; one heart, made of two
Days of turquoise kisses, too much, too few
Cloud castles filled our eyes, too long, too soon
Nourished by garland skies of scarlet blue
As courting butterflies demurely flew
In circles, touching a sunset lagoon
September wed us; one heart, made of two
Oaks framed in ancient splendor crafted new
Leaves burst in layered passion of maroon
Nourished by garland skies of scarlet blue
Once summer romance burned off, what is true
Love's music swayed our souls, set to its tune
September wed us; one heart, made of two
I held one ivory rose, clinging dew
Made lovelier under her sapphire moon
Nourished by garland skies of scarlet blue
September wed us; one heart, made of two.
Trees reach like glowing embers
to singe the autumn skies.
Leaves burst with blinding colour
like sparks that spin and rise.
Then a breath of weightless fog
moves across the silent lake
where trails of molten clouds
fill the sunset's smoky wake.
The harvest moon emerges
like a second burning sun
to fill the sky with button-stars
that morning pulls undone.
Sunlight floods the gardens
to melt the morning dew.
This is where my heart resides
since September gave me you.
Slipping slipping sweet summer is slipping away,
Ebbing into the ocean of my memories.
Palpable is my changing mood when all too soon,
The Equinox arrives to l e n g t h e n shadows.
Enticed by cooler days and nights,
My birth month acquiesces, then brilliantly begins
Bursting forth in bright beguiling hues!
Elegies evoked in me by summer’s leaving still linger in my poetry.
Resolved to all of it - at last - I turn to the revelry of fall festivities.
Written 8/9/2015 Originally For the Birth Month Acrostic Poetry Contest
Now for Julia Ward's Your Favourite Poem From AUGUST 2015 Contest
How many hearts so full of love
are never given chances
They've lined the walls in silent hope
at one too many dances
A lonely mirror once looked back
at me, as I remember
How devastating life could be
until one warm September
I’ll not forget the ups and downs
the great anticipation
To only then be squashed again
without accommodation
But then one day when life had learned,
alone can be complete
I came upon the only one
forever to be sweet
Just catch a moment, hold it still
be open to new fashion
For one can never know when
fate and destiny find passion
And when September rolls around
remember what i say
For then it was my turn to dance
and dance until this day
trees tessellated
prismatic presentation ~
wizened eyes widen
(September Full Moon – Anishinaabe)
In dream lone blackbird sits on telephone line,
pleading, what more do I have to give.
Wing once beat out a metronome in time..
leaving thoughts lost through a sieve.
I swore to rebuild our earthen dam,
and hold the waters at bay.
Your dream found a different plan,
left nothing more to say.
Race, now long finished, deemed total loss..,
left my prideful soul entreating.
Waste heart's song diminished, too high the cost,
ask why the day so fleeting.
Last candle's light gleamed in his glowering gaze,
Write journal'd fate, no answer would he belie,
September's temper teamed in shortened days,
to kiss late remember'd lips good-bye.
In autumn's graceful waltz of time
Where beauty and decay lovely intertwine.
And where joy and sorrow blissfully dance
In grace, they move this is a mesmerizing rhyme.
Leaves fall like a master painter's dream
Such a masterpiece mixed in color and light.
Twirling and a pirouette and the wind's gentle hymn
Is celebrating life's fleeting and graceful flight.
Raindrops are falling in a celestial jeté
I breathe in the air so crisp and so fair.
A gentle wind as secrets it keeps
A promise of renewal in the cool autumn ballet.
Within decay's soft and relentless caress
Unseen beauty takes the actors stage.
Golden leaves crunch underfoot like nature’s applause
Soft light filters through the trees like a lover's gaze.
Silence of the air soothes my soul like a lullaby.
Autumn is a ballet of graceful transition
A time for release and a moment to move on.
Yet, it is also a time of great hope.
A chance for fresh beginnings and where dancers are drawn.
The Harvest's abundance in life's great field
For the Fruits of labor and love's sweet trove.
The apple's nectar on my tongue, it yields.
Nature's gift is a dance
from heavens above.
Yet, as I taste the apple’s sweet yield...
I am transported to autumns of past.
To childhood days in the orchard field
And laughter lament is fading fast.
We seek the fire's embrace
against the chill.
As we are preparing for winter's
timeless phase.
And children's laughter fills with thrill -
That joyous echo of
Halloween's displays.
A fire crackles in life’s burning spin.
Look, as new life emerges from...
the ember's gentle glow.
We experience a symbol of...
transformation
a dance within...
Just like life's eternal rhythm...
like a river's ebb and flow.
There is steadfast and an...
unwavering resolve.
As a lone leaf clings to its
solitary dream.
A dream of green...
a dance as life revolves...
Against winter's ongoing
relentless regime.
Within winter's embrace and where life's seeds lie
Lies a seed of promise...
in silence grown.
I close my eyes and join autumn's
endless grace.
In reverie... I find my truest home.
Yet when I awaken -
It was a fleeting dream.
As the scent of autumn lingers in the air...
A testament to time that life's beauty is in…
Its ever-turning stream.
The roses of September the first
They know the dance is almost over
Slowly the life shall bleed from the stem
Beauty shall wilt
The winds shall blow away the memories
Bagpipers four deep and six long
Shall march upon botanical grounds
In remembrance of those brave souls long ago
Stoic the march, the notes lingering in the air
Falling on the deaf ears, of the already departed
Two swords laid as the cross
Highland dances of youth,
Old photographs lieing burned in the trash
Marching forth, to old peoples applause
They march towards their own death
Overlook there, over the sea, look closer
Shall you see the dust that covers me?
Twenty four reasons to die
Yet here I am on the twenty fifth
Wishing for only one
Let autumn wind whisper its song
Summer sunshine rays from yesterday we remember
After a long and lovely summer,
it often feels like autumn kept going cold and gray
But the truth is that this is one of the most colorful month
Now comes the polar night and the storm's time is near
We celebrated Thanksgiving in connection with the harvest
Autumn is yellow, red and orange
This is perhaps the finest with the autumn
Take a hike and you will see how beautiful it is out there
06.09.2016
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September meets with warm embrace,
quickening the harvest pace,
though looming autumn can't efface
what's left of summer's arid grace.
The linen hanging on the line
dances with the gust and shine,
while maypops heavy on the vine,
with honeysuckle, twist and twine.
The cool grass tickles naked feet
while weaned lambs in the distance bleat,
and find some shelter from the heat
'neath leafy canopy retreat.
The gentle wind so jaunt'ly plays
and tousles copper hair ablaze
like furious dancing autumn rays
from Mabon's fiery upraise.
Through rustling leaves the sunbeams glint,
I catch the balm of sage and mint,
and every herb and floral scent
blown to me by the wind's dissent.
Breathing deep olfactory prose
until the old red rooster crows
waking me from my repose
and from beneath the tree, I rose.
When as I rose, a red leaf fell,
wisping down its last farewell;
a changing season to foretell;
the coming bounty doth compel.
Cicadas loudly buzz along
and sing their end of summer song,
o'er by the thorny brambles throng;
unto the prairie they belong.
By and by, I turned my mind
back to the farm and daily grind,
collecting eggs where I can find;
inside the henhouse, else behind.
The hens put up a bitter fuss
with feathers flying from the truss,
so I let out an angry cuss.
Still, they obliged; allowed me thus.
Upon it all, I took my leave,
finished with my blast and thieve
much to the angry birds' aggrieve;
giving them a day's reprieve.
Outside the coop, behind the fence,
my greedy boar approached me whence,
grunting for his recompense,
and so two eggs I offered thence.
Then on, as careful as I might
into the farmhouse kitchen white,
delivered up the shelled delight
to feed the morrow's appetite.
Upon the ending of this chore,
I happened back outside once more,
to watch the day fade into lore,
and Luna make her grand encore.
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