Crisp breeze blows summer’s scorched screen away,
the somber sky revives to radiate the alluring aura,
clumps of cloud turning cotton span its canvas,
sail shapeless across the arena of seraphic azure.
Nature’s prism refracts the ambiance of autumn
at the lucent edge of the halcyon horizon,
splits the slant sunbeam in VIBGYOR spectrum,
hypnotic hues trickle down the canopy of foliage.
The sepia trees line the cinnabar garden path,
the gilded leaves bend to leave their boughs.
For them it’s time to grow golden wings and fly,
soar toward the serene sky before they fall.
Getting bare of bronze blanket once verdant,
the wrinkled trunks of tawny trees stand tall.
In the rhythmic rustle of the blushing leaves,
I hear the melody of autumn’s aureate footfall.
Climbing cotton cloud floats slowly away,
across the sapphire of end-summer sky.
Crooning birds bathe in the glint of blue bay,
in twilight gleam to amber nest they fly,
as autumn comes splashing gold on the way.
Sunburst horizon’s chromatic drape drawn,
splits the sunbeam in spectrum of splendor.
Palette of sky spills sparkling colors on dawn,
crisp air sways cinnamon grass blades slender
on the lush lap of meadow turning fawn.
The crafted crown of dazzling topaz dew
shines with the flair of dawn’s opaline glow.
Lining cinnabar lawn path paved anew,
sepia tree trunks stand on ground fallow,
bronze leaves rustle fall’s footfall passing through.
________________
October 13, 2022
Syllable count checked at HMS
Rhyme checked at RhymeZone.com
Contest : Three Stanza Poem In Quintain (Sicilian)
Sponsored by : L Milton Hankins
Faint hint of autumn I descry,
as cloud fleet slowly floats away
across end-summer’s ashen sky,
beguiled birds bathe in the blue bay.
As the meadow gets shade of fawn,
faint hint of autumn I descry,
pale gold spills from palette of dawn,
as fall’s footfall looms on the sly.
In sun-burnt trees leaves wait to fly,
adorning blazing colors new,
faint hint of autumn I descry
on grass with topaz crown of dew.
Stars will soon shine in crystal night,
as cool air ripples pass me by,
I’m suffused with sense of delight,
faint hint of autumn I descry.
_______________
August 17, 2022
Syllable count : 8 per line (HMS)
Rhyme checked with RhymeZone.com
Contest : Hint Of Autumn
Sponsored by : Regina McIntosh
Through the window open on the pale lawn,
the music of the rustling leaves I now hear.
The glare of the scorching summer is gone,
autumn’s supple footfall I feel comes near.
The smoky dust screen has blown far away,
satin sky radiates sparkle of sapphire allure,
for cotton clouds adrift from depth of grey,
sail shapeless on the sea of seamless azure.
The thicket traps the colors of the sunburst,
paints the wilting leaves before they all fall.
The lattice of hues on them won’t ever last,
for they’ll sleep on cold soil at winter’s call.
The blades of grass on the mellow meadow
don crowns of dawn’s radiant pearls of dew,
soaked in spray of scarlet sunrays they glow,
as from the autumn horizon rises a day new.
When lilac sunset the blazing sky will enfold,
in my heart the shimmer of twilight will flow,
for my times in the gloom of winter I’ll hold,
feel the warm touch of autumn’s afterglow.
August : 9, 2020
Contest : Nature Rhyming
Sponsor : Brenda Chiri
Feeling Cold Wind Gauge Every Footfall
As I ran across the smooth gleaming ice
beating heart a true miracle thus felt
would a true love in life serve to suffice
or drown me in waters where then ice melts?
Feeling cold wind gauge every footfall
spirit cried, bow thee to sweet romance
life oft is chasing that high bouncing ball
and risking it all on a gambling chance!
Safe upon firm land and sought after shore
soul rejoiced with deep sigh of relief
reminding me of my dark lust for more
and how I oft abandoned true belief!
Now I look back at, waters once flowing.
Realize most of life, was spent not knowing!
R.J. Lindley, November 24th, 1979
Sonnet, ( Ten years spent in deep grieving )
Note: Days of youth, spent fighting the onslaught
of world's savage blows and Fate's ticking clock.
Dew-soaked tender morning meadow
engraves the footfall in deep print,
stone dry at noon time it doesn’t show
any new footprints so distinct.
Emotion-hued supple young mind
draws lasting image of friends true,
matured by hard times it doesn’t find
friends, makes only acquaintance new.
November 10, 2018
Contest : 8x8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by : P.S. Awtry
(Syllable count checked on howmanysyllables.com)
AUTUMN'S COLORED FOOTFALL
The wet brush of the climbing clouds washes the end-summer sky,
the wings of birds bathe in the blue when from amber nest they fly.
Autumn arrives creeping with purple prism in the sunburst horizon
splitting the surreal scarlet sunbeam in its hues coloring the dawn.
Yellow tinged blades of fawn grass swaying on maroon meadow
wears the crown of topaz dew sparkling in the chalcedony glow.
Lining the cinnabar garden path the sepia trees still stand tall,
in the rustle of the blushing leaves they hear autumn’s footfall.
As the setting pink sun blazes the sky in vermillion ember bright
in its crimson radiance I wait for the frigid fall of the winter night.
October 1, 2018
Old age tends to feel like a waiting game
when the footfalls of Death start encroaching.
And your passion for life dims down its flame,
watching life's end stealthily approaching.
You start looking back rather than ahead:
memories replace dreams of tomorrow.
And the years, like an unraveling thread,
expose feelings of love, faith, and sorrow.
Oddly enough, you don't feel old inside,
though time keeps steadfastly ticking away.
And setting your qualms about Death aside;
faith disregard what nonbelievers say.
Old age feels comforting; a well-worn shawl
that deadens the sound of Death's footfall.
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