Nature spreading its Warm light,
Releasing its past, like our reflection.
Healing process so beautiful,
That mesmerizes mere beings,
Forgetting it is a healing phase,
Mourning like fools.
Maple leaves on the ground,
Crunchy with vibrant colours.
Yellow, orange borrowed from nature like elixirs,
Leaving green just like mere beings' youth.
Growing old but with beauty,
Mere beings miss the magic.
Mourning with sorrows,
While beauty shines like blessings.
Light is eternal,so is darkness
So are we.
Nature spreading its Warm light,
Releasing its past, like our reflection.
Healing process so beautiful,
That mesmerizes mere beings,
Forgetting it's a healing phase,
Mourning like fools.
Maple leaves on the ground,
Crunchy with vibrant colours.
Yellow, orange borrowed from nature like elixir,
Leaving green just like mere beings' youth.
Growing old but with beauty,
Mere beings miss the magic.
Mourning with sorrows,
While beauty shines like blessings.
Light is eternal,so is darkness
So are we.
When I opened the front door, autumn had already entered.
Crimson leaves rested on the mat like notes slipped beneath a door.
The season had signed its name in pumpkin and maple handwriting.
Autumn braids
the murmuring of silver grass
and seats the fields
Autumn draws
the long sigh of maple leaves
and lays the mountains down
Autumn softens
the reproach of chrysanthemums
and lulls the river to sleep
By the riverside
the reproach of chrysanthemums is soothed
and quietly falls asleep
By the mountainside
the long sigh of maple leaves is coaxed
and gently lies down
Across the fields
the murmuring of silver grass gathers
and sits in stillness
Oh, maple tree
you still stand free
how can that be
Tornado claimed
at you it aimed
now you are maimed
We planted you
fifty years flew
so full you stood
You live, still true
with limbs askew
and splintered wood
With grace, you stand
upon this land
for all to see
In our front yard
where we still guard-
Oh, maple tree
maple walnut
ranks top as most divine
~ dreamy texture
AP: 2nd place 2026, Honorable Mention 2026
Buttermilk pancakes made with love
Bring back childhood memories of Christmas morning
The joy of being together
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025
I am a red maple tree in a forest,
have been growing for over a hundred years now.
There is a lovely view that I share with many birds and trees,
when the nests are full of babies I am so happy listening to the peeps.
At the beginning of fall my green leaves begin to turn from green to red,
soon, my gown is fiery red and I am so proud as I sway and flutter,
but, as the breezes blow my leaves begin to fly.
I let my children of red go floating, drifting, gliding,
until my ancient branches are bare and gnarled in the fall sun,
and then . . . I sleep beneath a winter blanket of white.
Fifty-seven years ago, we planted you;
That huge tornado came- yet, you stand true.
_by Poet
Oh, Maple tree- it's seven years
Since a tornado brought me tears
In seeing how your crippled stance
Has left your lifetime up to chance.
But Spring arrived, with happy cheers-
Your leaves still hug each limb that steers
To reach above, like gallant spears
That sway to grasp life's joy and dance!
Oh, Maple tree.
I'm sad, your trunk- it now appears
Lost more of its dark bark veneers.
Perhaps you stage a peaceful trance
To bring me happiness, perchance-
Lightening up my heavy fears?
Oh, Maple tree.
maple leaf blushes
giving in to fall winds
last waltz
AP: 3rd place 2025
best homemade ice cream
the pride and satisfaction
of maple walnut
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
While leaves will fall where they may
The gusts of gusto have their way
Amid dark winter we can but pray
As south winds make her bare limbs sway
And budding spring is so far away
Might our maple not be felled by decay
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood….”
Robert,
You let the split remain unresolved,
and while we stand in awe,
staring at your crossroads
etched in gold and shadow,
do you ever wonder
what lay beyond the path
you did not take?
Even though you say,
“I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
Did the road arch upward,
an unfamiliar melody on the wind?
Or did it tumble into brambles,
a half-forgotten warning?
Even now I see your boots----
Mud-caked, maple-tinged-----
pausing at the edge.
Here’s my advice, if you allow it:
Don’t linger too long
in the pondering.
Step once more
into the thicket, the gravel,
the unknown blaze of paths.
And when your pen hesitates,
push it further
to sketch the forest where both trails end-----
or perhaps where they entwine,
branches brushing like old friends.
Some questions don’t need answers,
but oh, how they crave
a different kind of wandering.
Regarding Robert Frost’s famous poem, ‘The Road Not Taken’.
Vivid red maple leaves
Arrays of scarlet changing
Future appears bright
under maple leaves,
autumn whispers to the stream—
crimson shadows fall
a lone crane bends to the light
graceful in the fading glow
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