Came the wind
On the mountain
Leaves started falling
Off branches
Red orange butterflies
Sailing on wings
Of wind
Fluttering specks
Falling on mother’s lap
Asleep for the
Long
Long winter
golden sun rising
deer ate sedum autumn joy....
fall's beauty brevity
Yellow leaves flash the window,
a fringe on the green,
too early for the tourists,
the peaks still serene,
been aching to escape from
telephones and cubicles,
only noise is my own thoughts
so meandering and dull.
Just the wind as it’s blowing
my hair all around,
the wild turkeys scatter
at the engine sound,
people say that I wander,
they all say I’m wasting gas,
sitting there watching football
to make the afternoons pass.
But the air and the silence
brings peace to my mind,
or maybe I just glimpse it
stolen piece of time.
I know the trees don’t feel so,
know that they don’t feel a thing,
just illusions on the thoughts
of a tired and caged thing.
Got no task that needs doing,
no weight on the nerves,
no social obligations,
just time well-deserved,
some say that it is aimless,
so I guess they know the truth,
but so then is their worry,
and I do not need them too.
All the echoes and the empty,
the bucolic scene,
just speaks to the point of it,
it just lets me be.
No reason I justify,
nothing I must account for,
existence for its own sake,
if just a few hours more…
Transition
There is a small window of time
when September’s sun-fired air
must welcome and share
the apple-crisp breath
of imminent October
we soak up the last of
a summer-season palette
and invite the autumn blend
skin delights under a shawl of
warm, then cool, warm, cool
flirty swimsuits sag sadly
heading back to their winter stations
bright sweaters emerge
flailing their arms in jubilation
perennials get a fresh winter cut
annuals hold on to life as long as possible
the yellow spider spins her web
proudly attaching herself to
everything on the deck.
one can only smile when waking up
to an outrageously gorgeous morning.
I love summers
going with whim,
being with him.
What can compare
to no schedule, no plans,
the cool of martinis
or beachside bikinis?
an underdressed me,
outright hedonism,
shapeless Freedom.
I love Fall
The hustle of classes
their immediate demands
the need for fierce focus,
and the challenge of exams.
The overprepared me,
intense, mental involvement,
a future, academically solvent.
two such separate worlds
that can never collide
which is actually better?
I can't decide.
Both are simply systems with costs
the texture of one, depends on the other
and neither state is fully sustainable.
.
.
Songs for this:
Wake Me Up When September Ends by First to Eleven
Another brick in the wall by Pink Floyd
Samael: "The orchard is open to omphaloses the stables are Sable's cheery O's and so cereal of woodwork, is fairy cereal so bold."
Uraeal: "I open the gates true north crashes down, the hell of highwater is where the shark surely drowned, but the westward gate is closed and so is the east and the south closes now, like heathery feasts.
The Pro: "Should be palaver again, the moon bright the brittle bread?"
Samara: "I bred in this fire, I tire of liars who are of the sort who won't kindle my fire."
Gladius: "The other festoon is under thine eyes, like he needn't cross-work on crosswords for prized possession, taken by the ghoul of Mary sent brethren."
Aurora: "If the course if taken by the northmost gate, let golden rakes fill the plates."
Helel: "Should we wait for the north gate to crumble, before he humbug the buggie and send swallows aflutter?"
(Anonymized character) "I created once before now I was become death, the pita bread moon like the harvest moon's friend."
---End of act V---
Fall is finally here
Cooler temperatures
Crisp air and being
In better and calmer spirits
Samara: "Opening the thimbles under the waxing moon, you'll wish it was waning in clock town's too soon."
Samael: "Over the mountain and through the woods to grandmother's house we go, with hand grenades and razor blades high-ho, high-ho, high-ho."
Uraeal: "To be so uncomely by the waxing moon is retarded at best, she picks too many daisies to be wolfish at a fest."
Helel: "Helel, or so I've heard, let's make this short and sour, for the dithery young girl."
Aurora: "Time passes like Time was incarnate let's ask the others here, if folly is so comely."
Gladius: "Moving the orchard like agrarian gregorian fools?" "Who made the large ice-bath beside the stilled moon?"
The Pro: "I came I saw I thwart not, sold out shows are not my conifers."
(Anonymized character) "I still build palaces on the moon, where stairway to heaven crosses the dark side of the moon."
---End of act IV---
falling leaves from trees
soon to become barren trees ~
feeble forest trees
The Pro: "Timmies grow under the heather yes, we hear that too, the shale rocks earthen faults and spouts meters and rhythmic soornteens like ask the cold fall moon."
Samara: "Oldest wept upon bridge, the lovers crest cradles the lover's bridge, two brigades that hold together the trust of men and women at arms, like wings sent Demeter into the fog
Samael: "Came, went, it's always the same, the old lion's mane, the goat's beard is the fashionable game."
(Anonymized character) "Stellar! Like the fickle few! We shouldn't press too much wine to winny while we mew!"
Helel: "Tomorrow never dies, the like-minded sun repressed, never dies in the night twin flames of tomorrow's best."
Aurora: "Timidity be slow upon the river pale the horse-drawn carriage has foregone the bitter yales."
Uraeal: "Goosed up for the gander? Myne thyne fyne lynes are wolly and not prancer!"
Gladius: "Gooseflesh la'amore? Sinnder down the doors and let from that lovingly pour!"
---End of act I---
A different season opens the door,
Nature is stripped of its glamour and radiance.
Sadness sings the songs of the day,
Melancholy paints the portrait.
The foliage of farewell falls to the ground,
Telling a story of a fall from glory.
A rhythm of gloom pervades the atmosphere;
They are swept into the abyss beneath.
Farewell heralds a journey to the beyond.
Feeble leaves dance to the rhythm of the night,
They travel toward the unseen light.
The sacred texts reveal fragments of an ancient mystery.
O fall, let this lore of love be the last entanglement.
Let my soul be free from the haunting and encroaching memories.
O redemption, guide me to the path that leads to your door,
For in the deadness of my body, your light will lead me to the eternal portal of glory.
September 22, 2026.
Trees, adorned in Fall styles,
with branches wearing multicolor on their sleeves,
induce smiles.
How the leaves dance!
Patterns fluttering on their weaves,
entrance.
Fall chill -
the crimson leaves
thrill.
Trees adorned in Fall styles,
patterns fluttering on their weaves,
thrill.
Sun Shower.
Big drops.
Fall slowly.
Glisten.
I am 67 years old now.
And as the shadowns begin to fall.
And I approach the evening of my Life,
I want to try to get closer to my maker.
On my way out, I want to wish Humanity well.
In terms of advice, I want to see a striving for more unity.
More togetherness, More Love, More Care.
When I Fall
By Frank Daub
When I fall unaware of sin,
is God aware of me? Does He
see sin as second chance to win
Eternity?
And if eternity’s the prize
Which degree will I find there?
The brightened streams of Paradise
Or the tempest--blackened air?
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.