Long Lifeautumn Poems
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Life's odyssey provides us with precious moments untold.
It is well now and then as the vicissitudes of life unfold,
To pause and ponder times that each were great or small,
That bring a smile as those treasured moments we fondly recall!
To hold your bride in your arms and lift her veil of lace,
Kissing her tenderly and seeing the love shining in her face!
The smile of your newborn babe as you cuddle it the first time,
Counting its fingers and toesies is a feeling so sublime!
On a snowy winter's eve sipping wine with your love by the fire,
Planning and dreaming of things to which you would aspire.
Fellowship with kids and grandkids at your glowing hearth;
Recalling memories, 'tis the most heart-warming feeling on earth!
The glory of a magnificent sunset as the sun ends its daily quest.
An exquisite panorama frozen for a moment in the sky to the west.
Or marvel at a colorful rainbow after the raging storm has passed.
All wondrous gifts from The Creator that cannot be surpassed!
Tho' our existence is sometimes riddled with sorrow and strife,
Re-living dear moments can help ease the tribulations of life.
When the fleeting days of the autumn of our lives draw near,
Reflecting upon precious moments becomes e'er more dear!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
In a brief moment, I held the time so tight in my hand,
My children hood, the blues, solitude, and morning lights.
Remembered in time, when didn't existed in remembrance.
Rest in a field, looked above the sky as a white canvas,
Become to draw with my eyes, the destiny in a deep sky.
Full colors of spring, soon will turn so pale in autumn
Petals of roses falling on the ground, living the perfume,
Retained into a glass bottle, hand who was kept the time.
Breathe in and keep in a fresh air inside of an old lung.
From the memories, pick up the blackberries on the road.
Brightness morning sun; is a gift to the eyes for moments.
Lives; supported by columns, crossing bridge of the time.
Why do expect love, from the distant harbors? No more!
Just a warm breeze is feeding ours thoughts from the east.
Golden lights, & glows moments, were in time full of life
Should I be a nave of the time, to follow the sun?
Sweet evening memories, never will say goodbye.
Soul was wearing in moments, save those eyes so bright.
Invisible was the time, and doesn't feel the sun set goes on.
Precise flights route over high clouds crossing tropics,
Where dream has no border, is following the hills of east.
I smell sweet country spring waves of many scents.
I tell of beauty of rolling hills, creating a valley.
I touch the love of my life, luckier than many gents.
I have spoken of my sorrows; I have nothing to tally.
My desires and dreams have faded with this maturity.
However, others have taken shape to which I follow.
I need to hear that I have learned from the majority.
I need to hear that at least my mind is not hollow.
I need to hear that somehow I have made a difference.
I need to hear that love I have given; there is a reason.
For past thoughts and wishes, I ask for reverence.
Since my seed has stopped, I have no new season,
I smell crispness of cool autumn air at the end.
I tell of loneliness of country roads to nowhere.
I feel loss of many loves with no future to send.
I have spoken words in ink, all my heart can bare.
However, my mind, I hear, many may say I am selfish.
However, most of you have continuation to relinquish.
My friend within I beg you to stop searching for a wish.
Then possibly more things in life, you may accomplish.
The evening bulb shone dimly, in the almond ale sky.
Wispy winds scatter seasonal paper nuts, about my tiny feet.
I am a simple rodent, who enjoys the many shades of life.
Littering the curved chestnut nails, I scurry with my kin towards our evening meal,
Inside the human burrow, a most familiar shade. My siblings nip at my newborn heel.
"Gather what you can," I tell them, "quietly and without strife."
Heed my orders, cloaked clan true, and before I knew, we had returned to the shaven wheat.
Twirling sighs graze my cobalt coat. Are we living a lie?
Relieved that the task is done: another foray, we have won;
Another night, to feed my young;
Together, here, with everyone.
Yonder days, O hominal aid!
Alas we borrow, but none repaid!
In time, perhaps, we'll cleanse our debt. (In their ears, I whispered as they slept.)
- Never forsake, the Autumn Raid.
The evening bulb shone brightly, in the plump plum sky.
So many years doing what I should
Daughter, sister, wife, mother
Expectations to meet, unrequited dreams to fulfill
Oh how exhausting it all proved to be
Stretching myself thin, reaching for the brass ring
Child, woman, seeker, believer
Knowing all my dreams were just around the bend
Always just around the bend
Is it any wonder I lost myself
Naive, hopeful, loyal, passionate
In time the girl I was found her voice again
To damnation with their expectations
A mid-life crisis they say
Foolish, anxious, emotional, angry
Not herself, just a phase to be endured
Oh how great was their surprise
Standing like an autumn maple
Strong, confident, colorful, true
Singing a familiar song not heard in decades
Finally rounding the bend
If a mid-life crisis it be, bring it on, I say
Dreamer, achiever, lover, friend
I am the butterfly emerged from sleep and ready to fly
Fly with me, see the beauty in life, or be left behind
Past harks out in chirp, those sad lores
that have dried tears wrapped in autumn leaves
hopes and aspirations raped till blue
grief taped tight like glue.
Years went in events failed
in wounds ,salty fingers railed
everything tried
eventually cried.
Now is no better
just got a broken one
and a bone setter
cracked three
as I tried
the jump,
did I crash
with a thump
that I did
did not matter
I won
a gold
in my hold
did ..!
This day and this hour
seems like I pay well for
what I do win
with hard work or sin
with perspire or grime
but it is not all lime.
Dunno what holds in dark
is there any spark
away from the bloody stark
there is that green park
where I sit and ponder
eyes going yonder
did I not do enough running
should I not stop gunning
let the targets walk
let them stalk
you run
as a shadow
and let them follow
like sun.
Form:
Good Friends:
A 12 Verse Renga
After the Concert
After the concert
The full moon in the clear sky
And the autumn wind
Though it is late in the night
The musicians are hungry
Crowds are gathering
For the restaurant opening
And the five-star chef
All alone in the alley
Asleep in the packing crate
The shelter is full
Ice grips the streets and sidewalks
She buys a new scarf
Harsh static from the cellphone
Leaves a question in the heart
Patiently he says,
"I have told you many times
How much I love you."
A dozen wine red roses
In an antique crystal vase
The lengthening days
Bring the first warm afternoon
After months of cold
"Why don't you go out and play?"
(Mom wants some time by herself.)
In the summer heat
Dodgeball in the public park
And the radio
"I think they grow up too fast,"
Says the soldier with one leg
far
from
a
flowering,
fluorescent,
flourishing,
&
pleasantly
fragrant
facsimile of
flora herself,
the
stapelia star &
the
s. pulchella,
the
s. hirsute &
no
one
can
forget
the
s. variegate
(that special
phosphorescent
“beauty’)---
all have
gained
the nickname
“the rotten-
egg plant”
for a reason.
avec a
coriaceous
constitution,
the stapelia
spits out a rancid
stench
reminding one of
rotten & decaying
animal flesh,
or decomposing fruit
left too long in the
sun---
mephitic & aesthetically
shite
to the close observer.
staring at you like a
zebra starfish
out for the
kill---
professed through
a
fantastically
fetid
fart---
the stapelia
remains one of
south africa’s
sparkling
&
sensational
crosses
to
bear---
boisterously blossoming
in the autumn &
summer months---
for our
“enjoyment.”
A Renga:
Unintended
The full moon hovers
Just above the horizon
In the freezing air
Howling for a few minutes
A few dogs in the distance
With great insistence
They argue with each other
About politics
"I don't mean to contradict,
Then again, maybe I do."
Perhaps they are through,
Perhaps she will try again,
A refreshing wind
The apple tree, once again,
Tosses blossoms in the air
At the County Fair
Couples prance in the line dance
To a steady beat
In the ealry evening heat
Sipping tea and lemonade
He is still afraid
They won't be interested,
He maintains silence
Noting the correspondence,
Patterns of the earth and sky
As oak leaves defy
The deepening autumn cool
She closes a door
This hasn't happened before
A road that's unknown beckons
Today I have a day off from work,
The first of seven altogether.
Summer is gone, Autumn chills the air
So no co-operation from the weather.
I spent the morning reading poetry,
Trying to find inspiration.
So that when I finally put pen to paper
I would come up with a fantastic creation.
My mind keeps wandering to things I should do,
Not things I want to, I'm afraid.
For there's errands and shopping and cleaning and such
And of course there's bills to be paid.
So instead of wonderful poetry
My pen seems to be making lists
Of all the things I should do today.
I think you can get the gist.
But even if today is a wash
I still have six more to go.
Perhaps tomorrow I'll find the perfect poem
To create... You just never know.