the wild wind whispers
autumn secrets in the air ~
beckoning of fall
in front of us
a patch packed with pumpkins . . .
summer behind us
A Memory
A crimson tulip, soft and bright,
Unfurls to greet the morning light,
A fragrant kiss from the soft breeze,
But dawn's sweet beauty can't be seized
For soon its petals gently fall,
A memory pitched on the wall.
Leaves are falling down
Pumpkins will be ripening
Fall is coming now
Limerick Syllables : 9,9,7,7,9.
Now there once was a Scotsman named Milt,
And he tripped on a stair with a tilt.
Bounced on each step single file.
He jumped up wearing a smile.
Now we all know what is under his kilt.
When the elders declare a war,
they have lived their lives.
Wars thundering through the
centuries,
Death is present to reap,
it’s the children who fall.
They haven’t walked enough,
in childhood’s discovering journey.
The bombs, the drones,
the guns,
the screams of fright,
it’s the children who fall.
Dust plumes in the hellish rampage,
and in the rubble they are dead,
mothers, fathers wail to God Who
weeps on His heavenly throne.
Psyches bleed, ravaged by grief.
Wars trample and crush the flowers
of innocence,
as the butterflies search for them,
it’s the children who fall. ~
Mindlessly walking with shoes untied,
but gravity could not be defied -
he tried to grab hold,
to person or pole –
crashing down hard onto his backside!
September sunrays dart dancing playfully
we treasure every last glint of warmth
indian summer truly a gift
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
O parachute, thy rider.
How to keep one aloft?
Spread thy edges to defer!
He who squatted coughed!
Unity, sing in unison.
Each louder than the last?
Vittle, side with venison?
Legs in traction plast!
Thus refuted, O my rock?
Lines around in chalk.
Broken is the bowl, O block.
Corn, thy tattered stalk.
So you've been feeling stifled?
Just flicker as you fall.
Soldiers, how you rifled!
O banshee, how you call!
Ghoulish was the repast grim?
Crater, nurse thy rim.
Light of harpsichord, draw dim.
How about her or him?
Rain on us, O lightning!
O thunder, now to roll!
Fain would it be frightening?
Soak in gin, my soul!
The cone or the caldera?
What kind of choice is this?
Ergo, O my era...
O death gods, blow a kiss...
chipmunks scurrying across the park
dog wants to let loose and play
~ not happening on my watch
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Summer is turning into fall
leaves are changing colours
flowers begin a drying process
distributing seeds in crevices
hoping for a new growth
in the early spring
moisture had been sparse
so survival of seeds
depend on mother nature
the trees become heavy
laden with millions of seeds
waiting for a wind to blow
to distribute them far and wide
as the season slowly progresses
and winter is at the doorstep
the seedlings will have to wait
depending on spring rain
survival depends on the elements.
FALL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Falling leaves, once vibrant fists of green, bow to placid flames.
Autumnal breeze plays in both up-tempo and gentle lulls.
Leaves, a symphony of umbers and golds, serve as crunching meditation.
Living life fully in sanguine scarlet before the season’s gentle letting go.
This dying oak leaf
Between my fingers was
The only gold I ever owned
Not that I can say
It was really mine
Just something
To keep for awhile
While September was
Here with me
That leaf played with me
Running rings around
My wrinkling fingers
For minutes …
That felt like hours
Then, with palms open
I let gold go …
Back to where it belonged
Which was not with me …
autumn colours fill my eyes
leaves' transient beauty before their inevitable demise
goodbye ~ no regret or drama
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Today, we're watching America fall, just as Rome fell.
Democrats and Republicans have marched us straight into hell.
And just as Jesus, in predicting the End Times, did say ~
this will all happen before the current generation passes away.
As nations rise against nations, and America squanders its laurel wreath,
there will be much weeping and gnashing of teeth.
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