It felt like Autumn
on this morning’s run
I want it to be fall
with its syllabus of vibes
I’m signaling a stance
I’m autumn’s undoubted champion
wearing my choice like gangland colours
- I could give my all to fall -
summer only ever had my subdivided attention
Summer’s just too needy: it demands relaxation,
bare legs, sun block, beach plans, hydration,
barbecue, and relentless fun, with scant variations
I want the visual promise of leaves falling
the flattering autumnal colour palette
my whole devotion crowns shortening days
fall always serves as a competent stylist
complete with venti pumpkin lattes
and mornings with a costume of frost
Unbind the theatrical heats of midsummer nights
and let the season's advance revive us
show us falls slanting golden afternoon light
let crisper darknesses harbour counterfeit witches
and lengthening dusks warrant winter wishes
Let fall assume her russet throne
and give us autumn’s cool agenda
without the influenza
.
.
Songs for this:
Ping Pong by Dimie Cat
Messy by Lola Young
As summer ebbs, a cooler breath will dart
as Autumn's vibe is felt in every heart.
For, by late August, changes will begin
as shorter days and longer nights sneak in.
This breath will sigh of brilliance in the trees,
as flowers fade and ripened orchards seize.
While crisper air dissolves the humid haze,
new glory soon replaces Summer's phase.
Oh yes, these Autumn breaths will swiftly flow
to form and paint new views of burnished glow.
Reshape the scenes that rose by Summer's sway,
and offer life to us another way.
When Autumn breath shouts, “welcome to my Fall,”
we will accept old Summer's curtain call.
Oh
a free fervent feel
kindled by an unseen light~
friend that makes us heal
a fragile thread spun
holds the unknown, whispers hope~
trust what not yet won.
sunlight through the clouds,
a sudden warmth upon the face~
winds dispel the shrouds.
doubt's chill breeze may blow,
testing the weave, stretching out~
still, the string does glow
night stollers alone
guided by a distant glow~
belief in unknown
seeds beneath the soil
unseen growth, a patient wait~
life shines through one`s toil
when all seems vanished
when the path is lost to sigh~
guiding faith cherished
a gentle whisper,
across the vast and silent space~
trust turning crisper.
more than simple verse
a living, breathing essence~
holds the universe.
When it’s unexpected? I’ll burn alive.
My insides will become hundreds of stars.
Little bright lights pressing me to survive,
every scar fills up glass lampyrid jars.
Rings of glowing halos freckle lush skin,
spirals of smoke leave puff lines on exhale.
This montage fusing two horns and a grin
blend together for the perfect cocktail.
A scream will linger more than a whisper,
perhaps I’ll simply try this new tactic.
Ashes contort and diction’s now crisper,
making my phrase a bit more sarcastic.
Maybe I’ll catch fire in my darkest hour,
the pinnacle of sweet turning to sour.
This aligns with the six
Independent view of a placeholder
Crisper spin view in the works-
Autumn Heyday SS
Golden leaves in flight up high
Amber hues paint the sunlit sky
The heat of sunshine fades away
The air turns crisper day by day
Sour scent of decay on the way,
Autumn in midst of its heyday.
She kept her scent in the refrigerator
off and on upon the rack of Chenin Blanc,
or, in the door, with grey poupon and sour milk
where it, perforce, would topple upon the floor
when opened with any gentle, manly force.
At times, it would be lost among the yellow
golden citrus within the crisper drawer
or, it lurked, disguised behind an OJ carton
pretending to be a jar of marmalade:
so way, way beyond the ken of him to find.
And yet, with her, a flick of the door, a spritz
of Jasmine, gardenia, basil, orange, peach,
which pursued the flowing silken scarves she wore.
“Come, let’s go, we have a party to attend.”
She’d say, “What are you staring at, my sweetie?”
Just an empty perfume bottle, by the milk.
Those we love don't go away,
they walk beside us everyday.
Their murmurs soft, a tree leaf whisper
defrosts my heart that did grow crisper
with grief that stained inside and out
when I embraced and lived with doubt
that voices lost to yesteryear
would still be here in atmosphere,
but breezy hands they brush my shoulder
and shake the lilacs, zephyrs bolder
as wind-tossed-scent awakens my recall
of purple June bouquets that did enthrall.
Ah, souvenirs and picture frames
can flare or tame my mourning flames.
Our days once filled with cheer and dare,
alas, souls fly as sheer as air,
or sit to contemplate as still as moss,
they come to help alleviate my loss.
I see them in rejiggered shapes of clouds
or gold of sunshine warmth spilled over crowds;
I catch a glimpse in happy eyes
and sense they’re there in spirits' guise.
A moment here and then they’re gone,
beyond white angel-air-chiffon.
I’ve come to know and feel inside
that never-ending, they’ll reside
within my heart and everywhere…
to sense them near, fulfills my prayer.
Time was money was when a mindful mate
That gave me time enough to feel its feel--
The touch of grain and texture of its state,
How one hesitates ere part with the bill--
Crisper the notes harder to part was it,
The time it takes to wean out the wallet
That gives enough time to be wise and discrete
To look into, to wait, deliberate
That slows me down enough to weigh its worth.
UPI now cuts that safety circuit
That technology calls it empty mirth,
Not watch out, weigh and well in time to quit.
Technology oft looks an empty boast,
And I know well: comfort comes at a cost.
___________________
Sonnet |01.06.2025| change, money
Morning Coffee & Apple Fritters
Miracle Man
October 2, 2024
At mornings first light
wind existing as a whisper.
Soon future fall mornings
will become much crisper.
With coffee mug in hand
I enjoy placid patio time.
Breeze is barely sufficient
to vocalize our wind chime.
The leaves are now turning,
some prematurely falling.
From a high sky above
I hear sounds of geese calling.
Seeking a less cold clime
to endure winters freeze.
Canadian Geese flying south
is “winters Returning” first keys.
Summer's twilight arrives in September.
Each day the warm weather abates and surrenders.
Placidly, the days follow a pattern:
The hues of autumn emerge with foliage that will turn
Emphatically splendid
Much the way Mother Nature intended.
Blowing breezes grow sharper and crisper.
Everywhere is susurrous with leaves that whisper.
Radiant sun still pervades as the winds get brisker.
Fortunately, there's still good weather to be had.
As autumnity approaches, one is never really sad.
Leaves begin layering one on top of another.
Landscapes transform with spectacular color.
September is truly a month like no other.
September falls just into Autumn
Each week that passes makes it so
Perhaps for some, arriving so early
Tripping lightly into the crisper air
Exiting from that August warmth
More by necessity than any choice
Because each year needs to mature
Entering a time as leaves must fall
Recalling that memory of summer
For it becomes a month of changes
As green leaves turn red and gold
Laying as a carpet on a forest floor
Loosely swirling around in the wind
Sensing that their time is now over
As summer ebbs, the silent whispers start-
for, by late August, changes will begin.
The Autumn vibe is felt in every heart
as shorter days and cooler nights sneak in.
These whispers speak of brilliance in the trees,
as crisper air replaces humid haze;
the flowers fade, for orchards soon will seize
new glory that replaces Summer's phase.
Oh yes, these Autumn whispers gently flow
reshaping scenes that follow Summer's sway,
to loudly claim new views of burnished glow,
and offer life to us another way.
When Autumn whispers shout- “Welcome To Fall,”
we will accept old Summer's curtain call.
There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages. - Mark Twain
reflected in the spring’s gentle whisper
mingling the music, soul sounding crisper
risking light’s voice, calling to her sister
hues so daring, friendly and delicious
collecting moments, clearly auspicious
amazing as He who is omniscious
medley of dreams, revealing yet serene
glowing on cerulean seas of green
smudged with hints of yellow and tangerine
laughing beneath autumn’s exciting skies
waiting on night’s moon and stars to arise
listening for the wind’s song as she cries
enchanted webs of peace and grace and light
tempting moods so the heart and soul unite
Have you ever seen the earth from up above? How the clouds cover everything like marshmallows soft and fluff. The tiny towns and cities all the ants run around in their little tunnels working hard. Little things zooming around like specs flying around with the wind. As you look closer to the landscape it's jagged cut off in the odds of place almost like a quilt sown together very clumsy as if it's done in a rush. As you go further across the land you see bits of green with dots of black across the groves. How the water reflects upon it's self-casting a shadow within itself. Just picture how the earth would smell as well maybe a crisper smell or would it all be together mixed? To fly and see these things is a true beauty. Have you seen the earth from up above it's truly a sight to see.
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.