The tree stands quiet
In the absence of birds.
Its branches, once bright with song,
Now sway with a lonely sound.
The wind moves through its leaves,
And they whisper like tired memories.
Empty nests rest on fragile twigs—
Small homes that once held warmth.
It remembers the gentle mornings
When songs rose with the sun,
When little heads lifted from the nest
And the sky seemed full of promise.
How alive those hours were.
Now the color of its leaves fades,
Turning yellow with the season—
And with longing.
The birds have flown
Toward warmer lands,
Following a softer light,
Dreaming of safer days ahead.
The old tree remains behind,
Rooted in faithful soil.
It feels the cold more deeply now,
But it does not curse the sky.
It knows that wings are meant to travel,
And youth must search for distant hope.
Still, in the long evenings of winter,
When the air grows thin and still,
It holds their vanished songs
Like a quiet ache within its heart—
Proud that it once gave them shelter,
Even if it must now stand alone.
concrete and steel
millions of glass windows
no violets, grass or lightning bugs
asymmetrical
acres of cold hard gray squares
no trees, bushes or daisies
no evening people
abandoned at twilight
Chicago downtown
autumn rolled in like honey
how we loved savouring those warm sunsets
sweet together memories of romance
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
My morning starts with a cup of tea, a pen, paper, and a plan.
My day ends with a cup of tea, a pen, paper, and a plan that didn’t quite work out.
Often times I can only focus on that middle part, and all the things that went awry.
I push and stress myself to fulfill an impossible goal.
When actually, the beginning and the end are the most important parts.
In the beginning, I was full of hope and had good intentions to get all the things I needed accomplished.
At the end, I can see where I was not always in control of everything, and gave myself grace and then look forward to the next day and a fresh start.
Chilling remains haunt
On these cold April evenings
I wish I'd forget
See the stars dancing
Flying among them are dreams
So out of reach now
You inspired hope
Now you are a memory
Holding my heart up
Tears flow like rivers
But they will still reach the sea
Where Poseidon sings
Where is the love now
I guess it still burns inside
Buried so deep down
I'm afraid of me...
And everything I am
Only you could love
As the moon watches
Cold April nights fade to May
And maybe rebirth
With one last prayer
I watch as the sun rises
...I will remember
Empty evenings
Empty evenings, yet full
Spent alone
Evening, I have no other life; night
Darkness brings me hope
Light
I can see the tops
of almond trees tinged
by a setting sun,
a vast column
of starlings overhead
and hear their whirring wings
as they head home
to roost. Feel
the settle of things,
a slowing down
of movement
into a clumped quiet
from where nervous eyes
look out to see
what menace wakes.
Then the sad folding
and the putting away
leaving a hollow
fear invades and fills,
a descending sanction
upon the tongue
not to speak
or to make a sound
lest something will be seized
and taken,
becoming no more
than a hole healed over
to a bright render
on the facade
of another day.
Raven black evenings
waiting for the ice cream truck
on the starlit stairs
Crowds of blossoming children
eager for a Tastee Freez
Smoky summer nights
the fun day's heat lingering
'til the daily treat
A favorite memory
tracks the golden halls of time
Written on 8/20/2022
For: Childhood Nostalgia Poetry Contest
Sponsor: JCB Brul
Autumn is waiting in the wings,
hiding discretely among trees,
in plaintive music a bird sings,
coaxing a ride on a cool breeze.
Summer, reluctant to cede day
Autumn is waiting in the wings.
Finally gives the nights away
to crisp breezes that Autumn brings.
Autumn offers gifts of gold rings
to match Summer's soft, golden hair.
Autumn is waiting in the wings
Summer blows kisses on warm air.
Autumn, in gowns of red and gold
will be queen, altho Summer clings.
As she leaves, her story now told
Autumn is waiting in the wings.
August 18,2022
for Hint of Autumn contest
by Regina McIntosh
howmanysyllables.com=8
(Series: Khaleelah)
Love is a sound,
A wailing moan,
& it becomes an anthem.
In you I feel the evenings with you have a subjective effect,
Every other evenings that passes after that are beautiful & better,
Those evenings have put me on the sidelines of your life.
There may come evenings when the leaves of our moments will fall - emptiness will make us cold
By those other beautiful evenings I will be our coat & intimidate our loneliness,
Embrace our fears - & the gathering of our world will know that I’m the best of the most sincere love.
Sunday evenings, not much to do
Pack a bag lunch, dust off your shoes
Hit the hay early, dread the alarm
As if Monday's the source ~ of all worldly harm
Babies cry, sleep, change nappies, feed. Toddlers drink water from cups. Younger brothers, younger sister, older brother, older sister, small town, large country.
One lane roads, one lane bridges, unsealed, 60mph, in the dark. Bush covered gorges, rail lines across the river, small waterfalls, windows down, no seatbelts in the back seat, lying down, sleeping on the rugs, stopping for carsick ones on the edges. Mum singing, Dad driving, children counting dead possums.
The ways into town run through a long winding gorge or a longer winding coastal road, both prone to slips. Nearest cities Christchurch, Nelson, 200 miles away. Only referred to as the Coast, with its own dialect, only belonging when born there.
Biscuits four trays, oven
Bread hot water cupboard rising, Dad late
Holden Kingswood written off, dead bull
Packs, boots, carbide lamps, white fizzy hosing down leggings, parkas, gumboots, bikes, back porch full.
Flames warm quality coal
Sheet lightening children’s window race
Nothing more calming than the thunder of the rain.
In our worst heated scorching heated sin;
In the evening rain;
God washes us with His cooling waters;
God washes us with His cooling waters, cooling waters;
He baptizes us;
Reigns down salvation when we repent of such;
It's all about us;
God wishes that none of us, should perishes
Being baptized and forgiven;
Wets us to keep on living;
In the new Garden, of Eden;
In the evening rain;
We will be washed clean;
We shall be rebirth, born again;
In the evenings rain He reigns down forgiveness we are forgiven
~
God reigns down salvation to those dry sinner souls;
It's all bout' u, In God we do so trust;
God washes us with His cooling waters;
God washes us with His cooling waters, cooling waters;
He baptizes us;
Reigns down salvation when we repent of such;
It's all about us;
God wishes that none of us, should perishes
Being baptized and forgiven;
Wets us to keep on living;
In the new Garden, of Eden;
In the evenings rain He reigns down forgiveness we are forgiven
10/16/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Full moon bright
City skyline dark
A lonely sight
This empty park
A dark poise
Street lights look dim
A distant noise
Strange shadows skim
I wait here
Loiter with mood
Ancient touch steers
Can thoughts meet good?
Moon light tryst
No face in sight
Luna floods gist
In a new light
Leon Enriquez
01 April 2020
Singapore
Evening’s Monet sky over fields of wheat;
impressionistic clouds in heartbeat
crescendo to the universal rhythm.
Sapphire-turquoise rings dancing ‘round
with orange, pink and purple clouds,
in the distance, evening moon
climbs higher to highlight joyous party.
Gaia’s children aglow with brother moon’s
blessing; nature’s bash is the best ever.
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