Autumn has put its showstopper on
the magical season has begun
Leaves on trees, colourful hues of green
turn to delightful shades of citrine.
Then gracefully swirling to the ground
twisting, twirling they come falling down
Leaves seeking rest upon leafy lanes
ground absorbing the brittle remains.
Becoming compost that feeds the earth
maturing until nature's rebirth
Trees stood naked without their dressing
have beauty unique and impressing.
As all life on earth, comes death and birth
part of God's plan, unseen and unheard
Each plant, creature, woman, man and child
leave their mark somewhere out in the wild.
Filling blank pages on which to write
tales of autumn's showstopper of life.
A curled pink nail,
tap on navy blue,
garment I wore,
benchmark blazer,
and matching pants,
whilst idly gazing,
at top shelf luxuries,
with lavish design,
a tinctured twang,
“beyond my grasp,”
that felicitous plead,
from ethereal elder,
whose finger points,
to green leaf motif,
breakfast tea box,
tucked between,
medley of brands,
behind shelf label,
“your lofty stature,”
“towering boon,”
her citrine whisper,
my wobbly lurch,
I self adjust now,
before the setting,
of caffeine boost,
in basket mesh,
hug swops usher,
vanishing in lane
SUMMER ZEST
The ice cream melts beneath the blazing sun.
Where the frozty treat was dripping as it softly ran.
Every bite, every mess, it's worthwhile.
And I'm having fun.
Tangy Zest Sundae swirl, that's my favourite one.
Each flavour leaves a frosty kiss.
With every leak, it melts on my lips.
The dazzling heat sparkles like citrine and gold.
'Till the sunset gently paints the young and the old.
And that's my Sundae swirly treat.
Written August 27, 2026, For Poetry Wheel Weekly Challenge
Verified by HMS.COM / 8 - 8 - 5 - 5 - 8
Theme: Memory
Emotion: Wonder
Color: Gold
Season: Summer
Form: Limerick
Object: Lego
Verb: Whisper
*******************
The sun in its annual glow,
Turns plastic to citrine below;
A whispered refrain
Of joy and of pain,
Brings childhood wonders to bestow.
soft yellow
streaked
terra cotta
shadowing
speckled sallow saffron
a bluish buff
upon the cochineal
brilliant
boneblack
grizzled
&
engrain
a
citrine carnation
as
fallow flaxen
rustic rubrical
rainbow tint
the magenta
mandarine
unseen
an ultra-marine
tinged burnt
sienna
reflects
a golden flame
raw
upon
umbery
an
earth green
a
bright mosaic
gold mottled
&sallow sorrel
in
virent yellow
once
oak stained
the pale apricot;
becomes
blood red
russet dotted
the olive lind
a
freckled crimson
whilst
a chestnut maroon
on fuchsias
faded
an
apple green
as burnt umber
sank deep
into
sanguine slumber.
#10 on top 100 recent poems as of June 30, 2025
I see a dark cypress
towering in front of me
and behind it is a village
The tiny town
is wrapped in blue -
the blue of a night
that captures my imagination
a saffron crescent moon
and stars like balls
of miniature suns citrine-spiraled
wink at me
through yellow curly cues
I want to swirl with them
through the sky
which is water-color whorled
a steeple church
and houses sapphire-hued
sit ensconced beneath
undulating hills
fed by comfort -
I wish to snuggle
inside this scene
with Vincent’s stars
dancing in the vortex
of my slumbering mind
free spirit of summer: a new foliage
wraps the air; vagabond daybreak spilling
colored tones on mounds of rosebuds
dripping of citrine sensation...
how beautiful they are,
enough to widen hundreds of a maiden's smiles...
and while swags of August cuddle
gemmed blossoms and herbage ,
a plump view shapes morning into a spray
of mountain petals, spreading sheer
rapture on long, lavish fields---
spellbound by sunlight of auroral tint,
flowers burst more daring than
the red, orange and pink of early beam,
as trinket of bulbs surfs along garden beds
waving their flamenco hands to greet tangled wet weeds. ...
and much like the sun they were born from,
florets thrust their tanned arms radiant. rare. robust...
here, a parade of garlands dressed in
satin hues prances on the first touch of light:
that finally, earth's flesh is decked
in summer rays, in softened prayer...
sun - up waltzing pivoting
in dawn's sweet, effervescent glow!
The razor edge between his love and hate
for her, he found so utterly sublime;
So it became his only heightened state.
Soft lips, soured by the bitterness of lime
would, occasion, taste sweet of nectarine;
as both performed this act of pantomime.
At times, an alabaster figurine
would whisper, sweet, in ear, with honeydew
about such acts unthinkably yet seen.
Forever, everlasting trapped, he knew
an undeserving servant to his queen
there never would be taming of this shrew.
And he, in shadow, would remain unseen;
waiting to taste the sugar or citrine.
Citrine sun bathes in baby blue sea -
palms glitz burnt orange heavens
He's a visual fusion of forest and inner flame,
A radiant pulse of abundance.
Clad in crafted clothing of galore,
Stitched in autumn tones from folklore.
He wears leaves of distinction, orange embers,
Yellow, citrine, and emerald green.
He nurtures the woodlands in newborn sunrays
That fall through the morning haze,
Striking the heart where his roots belong,
Enhancing the mind with crystal-clear gleam.
Twinkling truths highlight his daydreams.
The Green Man dances readily,
Saged in spirals for centuries,
Giving journeymen paths to fae lights,
Readily twisting around flowers, foliage, and sprite's limbs,
Stretched in sacred homage.
Breath in breeze
Body entwined with trees
By myth decreed
By birthright and galore
Wanderer between roots and stars forevermore.
You tried to rape my pockets,
saw everything but my citrine.
Two feet away is as good as it gets,
do not try and approach me.
I urge you not to place bets,
I’m wielding a black tourmaline dagger.
It could cut out your eye sockets
leaving a line sleek and clean.
Mind your manners and the silhouettes.
citrine crescent dims
slides back from the bright starry realm
dewy mist descends
streaks of twilight cuts through sky’s rims.
Listen to the wind sweeping autumn leaves,
pirouetting amongst a citrine sunset.
Whilst light rain collects at corners of windowsills,
illumination from a crackling fire
bounces upon unpigmented mourning walls.
Silent weeping occupies microcrevices,
confined within the splintering memories.
The creaking of an antique rocking chair
melds with the restless nocturnal atmosphere,
of time no longer waiting in the shadows.
Sheer onyx fabric draped over photographs—
death came much earlier, not from hate or spite,
but to erase the endless suffering,
of years wreathing in perpetual chronic pain,
locked within fragile bones and a trapped mind.
So do not curse the gods, my dearest love,
nor get lost in voids of sorrow oblivion.
Know peace has now been brought to my tired soul;
I wait patiently until we are one again.
When tint of duskfall weaves through a cloud
I spill lacquered paint on bays, ashore
my gold-red shades draping sand. Endowed
with citrine flame of sky , I soar:
Call me ambrosia too. Just outside,
nectar drips from marmalade nights
honey and cantaloupe bless my glide--
O I'm there...when slice of dawn alights !
"The days are jewels, keep them with care". Jackie Kennedy
Aquamarine were summers with siblings
beneath skies of blue riding bikes or swimming.
Days of emerald too were times we spent outside -
barefoot on our lawn, badminton rackets in hand.
We’d stroll past Grandpa’s cornfield down the country lane
searching for raspberries to pluck.
Such awesome times of jade were games we played outside.
Rose quartz I collected as romantic daydreams.
Stories I read in books (depending on their plot)
glittered like gems of amethyst or citrine.
Pearls were winter weekends spent sledding or skating
but diamonds were holidays with family.
Opal’s shifting colors were my school days.
Slumber parties glistened an iridescent pink.
With my sisters I'd talk into black onyx nights
and chase summer’s fireflies that shimmered peridot.
Most fondly of all do I recall first love.
Red ruby’s passion set my heart aglow.
No other memories have shone more brightly than
the precious jewels of my youth.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.