Autumns' swift encroaches
Carries burning orange embers, crimsons and browns
Fire broaches
Blackens the trees
Shedding the last glimpse of colour
They seize
Somber
Edging towards
Death
Autumns' swift encroaches
Shedding the last glimpse of colour
Death
Walking down a lane, strewn with withered leaves,
I watch as they twirl and pirouette in Autumn's chill wind
leading them in a rhythmic dance that it skillfully weaves
as they plummet, leaving branches naked and chagrinned.
There's a true spark of vigor in the breeze of Autumn's call.
One I am quite happy to answer in poetic verses composed
about a family trip to the pumpkin patch, amid hues of Fall
when Nature's boldest color palette is so vibrantly exposed.
It's time for gathering together, and offer words of thanks
for the bountiful food and the beauty of a harvest moon,
and children Trick-or-Treating; scary Halloween pranks.
There's a crispness in the air and firewood to be hewn.
I get so excited when my favorite season approaches
and foliage gloriously blazes in shades of rust and gold.
Too quickly the coldest season of the year encroaches.
I'm not enamored by Winter when shivering with cold.
From this lane, I watch geese flying to a warmer clime,
their vee formation clear to see as to the South they go.
But before Winter takes command there's enough time
to enjoy these golden days of Fall, before the first snow.
“Long Live the Independence Day”
The day dependence duly ended
And painful birth of USA
Is something worth to be remembered
It’s been two C’s and whole half
We weren’t here at conception
But fly that flag at highest staff
And pay respect without exception
Was more than schism from old kings
And liberation from oppression
New mindset what freedom brings
To live in peace without transgression
Not slaves, not servants, serfs, peons
Be taken no advantage lately
From the beginning to eons
“Accept no lies” we value greatly
Our votes are our independence
July the 4th is symbol strong
What shall we leave to our descendants
Depends on how we move along
We’re not as free as one would think
Big world encroaches, uninvited
Too often freedom is “cha-ching”
Don’t give it up and stand united
Stop pompous jerks in tailored suits
From making their own eclipse
Betray our history and roots
Because they are on ego trips
Be independent as can be
Yet part of our wholesome nation
Think free, live free and bend no knee
That’s “independence” foundation
July 4, 2026
The sombre song,
A troubled heart,
A worried soul—
Yesterday’s road stretches into the present.
Nightfall on the porch,
Alone looking at the sky,
Songs for the gloomy days,
An elixir for cracks and crevices.
The pain inspires the songs;
Redemption is a pathless path.
It’s a quest for an awakening light,
An end to the darkness that encroaches.
The sacred book guides to a door,
As the sages seek to unravel the mysteries.
Songs at twilight,
Dew for the shrivelled garden.
May 22, 2026.
I stand where silence threatens to consume,
The dark encroaches, hungering for claim,
Yet still I walk, unflinching in the gloom,
Unbent, unbroken, nameless though my name.
Oblivion waits with patient, endless hand,
Its shadows whisper promises of peace,
But I will not bow down to shifting sand,
Nor trade my breath for chains of sweet release.
The void may laugh, the stars may turn to dust,
The years may scatter like a broken flame,
But in my veins endures a stubborn trust,
A will no darkness ever yet could tame.
Though night is vast, and all is swept away,
I scorn the end, and claim my right to stay.
Boys will be boys, should we change our approaches?
It invades our society, infesting like cockroaches.
Is it something that we unfairly blame on our coaches?
Or should we instead stop this before it encroaches?
Is it time to call time on this self-destructive trait?
Something we excuse with ‘it’s only banter mate’.
Instead, should we consider our words and our deeds?
Humility, equity, kindness, what we need to succeed.
It hides deep within us,
A stranger lurking behind a veil,
It emerges at will, seizing the moment,
We become mere puppets on strings.
It’s the night that encroaches upon the day,
A dusk that awakens its hidden elements.
December 27, 2024.
My shadow grew longer as the sun bid me 'farewell.'
Beneath my rowan tree in dour thoughts, I shall dwell.
I curse life for her heartless schemes
for now shattered and frayed, are my dreams.
I become eager to touch the breast of twilight
as fog encroaches to shield me in the shadows of night.
Do not pity the gasp of my last breath
for then we'll both feel the agonizing misery of my death.
Pity is not an emotion in which I choose to wallow,
though I choke on the edge of anguish, a scream I swallow.
Poems in order of their appearance:
Radiance of Sunset
Soft Murmurings
A Vision in My Dreams
Unraveled Seams of Frayed Dreams
To Touch the Breast of Twilight
A Death Never Mourned
I've Not Yet Said Farewell
A Heart Torn in Half
When the Sun Drowns in the Sea
On the Edge of Anguish
It lay
halfway down the hall,
once the spare bedroom styled
where out of state family once sprawled,
for a while.
Grown now,
two states away
with families of their own
all too busy for a visit these days
back home.
My niece once remarked
that the room is pervaded
by remnants of Christmas collectibles parked
in dusted positions faded
for my heart's memorialized condition sparked.
Herein displayed
the many gifts they gave
so many Santa and Angel figurines
Baby Jesus on parade
in happier masquerades once seen.
As the season approaches
with every possibility of time recalled
the past encroaches
in the hopes and dreams, we still applaud
the sanctuary of the Christmas Room.
The amber leaves descend in swirling grace,
Beneath the skies that fade from blue to gray,
They dance upon the wind, a soft embrace,
As autumn steals the warmth of summer’s day.
The trees stand tall, though skies may weep and sway.
With every gust, the branches bow and tease,
Their whispered secrets carried on the breeze,
A fleeting glimpse of life as seasons blend.
The cold encroaches, yet the heart’s at ease,
For beauty lingers in the air they send.
On the outskirts of a long-abandoned country town
beyond the crumbling headstones and elmwood trees
is mounted a dark dismal figure of what used to be
a scarecrow whose limbs flail in Autumn's breeze
Hung as if crucified, his death was never mourned
The creature decayed in the midst of a barren field
Fallow lies the ground he once so boldly protected
Nigh on twenty years since wheat crops gave yield
Poor beast, with innards of grayed moss and twigs
Tenebrous, the moldy growth on his stygian face
as fog encroaches to shield me in the shadows of night
He's a monolith of death, staked in this cursed place
Darkness saturates the clouds and shrouds the moon
Comes the North wind, and a caw... caw... cawing sound
A murder of crows take flight over the wretched scene
Where once reigned a Sovreign who was never crowned
She brushes her long silky tresses,
smiling at her beautiful reflection.
A closet full of jewels and dresses.
Everything about her is perfection.
Physical splendor and material wealth
fades with age and crumbles in time.
Growing old erodes a person's health,
a bane once we've past our prime.
Spring lasts but a short tender season.
We are not renewed like buds or a leaf.
Winter encroaches in an act of treason,
we're suddenly old, consumed with grief.
Tarnished becomes the crown we wore
in days of our youth when life was new.
But the clock ticks and we cannot ignore
our golden days have taken on a gray hue.
February 24, 2023
Inspired by Robert Frosts' Nothing Gold Can Stay Contest
Sponsored by JCB Brul
In the land of Armenia, Christians face death each day
The Land of Azerbajan, encroaches and causes affray
A line of troops however hold, the opposing sides at bay
It suprised my mind to know (they are not from un or USA.'
A season out of the ordinary,
A season beyond the sculptured,
Disarray in the elements of nature,
Chaos in time and space.
Turbulence pervades the climate,
There's a disruption in the sequence of nature,
Twilight encroaches on the day,
Uncertainty looms over the horizon.
Humans seek a solution,
They search for an escape route,
Freedom from the shackles of a deviant season,
A way out from the tendrils of a dark continuum.
Mystery comes out of its chamber,
The phantom unveils itself,
Humans are burdened by an unbalanced system,
They’re haunted by their negligence.
November 12, 2022.
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 20 Poetry Contest,
Mark Toney.
What I allow,
What I brood over,
What I give freeway,
This tender shoot,
Green and fragile,
Sprouting,
Becomes a huge tree,
Wide girth,
Thick branches,
These spread in
different cardinal directions,
Forming a gigantic canopy,
This infiltrates my sane thoughts,
This encroaches on my tranquil flow,
Dark and murky beneath the surface,
I wrestle with my thoughts,
I battle with my mind,
It’s taking every ounce of strength,
I’m under its weight,
I provided the fertile ground.
May 3, 2022.
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