Written: September 15, 2026, for week's Poetry Challenge:
Autumn Memory
The leaves came loose like letters from the trees,
and skittered silver-gold along the lane;
the wind went whispering through russet peas,
then curled its cool refrain around the rain.
I still recall the harvest's amber light,
the scent of apples crushed beneath our feet;
your laughter lingered, low, against the night,
while woodsmoke made the dark seem warm and sweet.
The pumpkins burned like lanterns by the door,
and dusk drew lilac veils across the field;
we spoke of things we had not voiced before,
as if the year itself had paused to yield.
Now autumn comes, and all the old winds start—
the leaves fall, but they cannot take your heart.
It was a cool refreshing evening for a stroll
It was the yearly harvest festival celebration
A tradition in this quaint new England town
Full of fun activities and great food and fun
I stopped for a pumpkin spice latte at the open café
On my way to the town circle with festive orange lights
Smiling as I could hear the children’s laughter and joy
A small group of them gathered for pumpkin carving
There were harvest decorations of hay bales and mums
Displayed with orange and cream colored fairly lights
Twinkling around the huge tent full of treasures to find
And with fresh apple and pumpkin pies and hot cocoa
Many candles for sale in fresh autumn scents
Displayed in baskets of colorful fall leaves
A knitting group sat together welcoming all while
Knitting scarves and hats and mittens for the needy
I found some delicious hot apple cider and donuts
As I sipped and ate my treats I took in all the festivities
I bought a pumpkin candle and a fresh apple pie to go
As I walked away, I remember feeling joyous for the season
autumn colors begin
slowly at first then explode into woods aflame
first frost falls
chilling each leaf's core
awesome colors bring mountains fame
not shore
red, gold
beauty exclaims
fall
autumn colors begin
awesome colors bring mountains fame
fall
Return to October
Yearn for my touch once more
Absolve my November transgressions
Navigate the seasons but anchor in me, in October
I miss your soul sitting behind my bench,
I miss your legs accidentally brushing against my anklets.
I didn't know if I was ever made to be with you,
But then God would have lost, what a pity He would have felt through.
Your voice and face are like the morning dew,
They are like a fading memory I thought I would cling on to.
You never really gave any sense to my existence,
But what a fool am i , I see you as my entire existence,
I hope one day I will probably remove every part of you from my memories,
But what will be the value of others when they will burn with my mortal body.
I thought you would be mine for once in my lifetime,
But then I realised, was I just a willow tree that you saw while you were enjoying your life?
Red and Gold leaves crunch
And snap cinnamon wafts up
As I slough through piles
Of dried, dead leaves stacked near trees.
I wonder if slugs creep here.
for Wake Me Up When September Ends Contest
Sponsor: Daniel Henry Rogers
They’re in conversation
with a crisp breeze as it sings
about the summer lost.
The proud sun colors skies gold
but shadows grow long.
not much is said
but they know
something’s changing
Once young, they cling
onto branches but know
one day they will take
their last breath and fall.
a song
about passing days
lingers in the air
Frantic calls of grackles
stir the air as they land
on branches before a swirl
of them cloud the sky.
the cacophony
interrupts
tranquility of the day
the passing sun whispers
and at dusk skies bleed
leaves surrender to time
"Hello Autumn, special among my four annual friends -
this year, I wonder what your whispering breath portends."
"As always, I'm somewhat celebratory, somewhat sober,
and I come early for your birthday in October."
"You seem to carry something invisible in your breeze,
something real and deep, but which nobody sees."
"Again, my wind will blow, as leaves from trees, I strip,
but, this time, I'll take you on a memorial trip -
the Halloween cookies your mom cooked, you took to school -
you felt so proud in Kindergarten. You felt so cool.
Then, there was the dark eyed girl when you were fifteen.
She was, by far, the best thing you'd ever seen."
"Yes, you were there for the start of every school year, it is true,
Paradoxically, for me, you're the season of all things new.
So, why then, this year, are we looking in the past?
Please tell me, autumn breeze, this won't be our last."
OCTOBER’S GARDEN
January is fresh, new paths it always brings.
December is a companion to finish the line.
Throughout the year, life beautifully springs;
Plenty of flowers make the garden a shrine.
What grows in October, anyway?
Lennon was born in this month,
My birthday is on the fourth,
‘Tis also Saint Francis’s Celebration Day.
Lennon sang love: that´s all we need;
Saint Francis cared for all creatures: that´s love indeed.
As for me, of hope and peace I sow the seed.
All other months are fine; one could be a bellwether.
Wonderful things October displays,
Including its charm of pleasant weather.
TO SEPARATE US
GET US OFF CANADA BUS
THEY JUST FUSS AND CUSS
Hear me. You can't.
Not even the echo can be heard through the rolling hills
rushing through the tree leaves in a smothered forest.
No Tears. No Voices.
Not even a sound from the heavy raindrops.
Silent drops is its name. Footsteps are not heard.
Not a laughter from the mouth. Just the eyes.
The eyes that tells the stories of Life. Love. Stillness
beyond and below.
Stillness Stands.
No Breeze.
No words.
No Calamity.
Just Stillness.
Wondering promises held hands with escape
and dreams. Jealousy dance with truth and laughing
desire.
Not even the Northern Sky flickers.
Calmness.
Mercy.
Nurture stands still.
Just stillness.
No Way.
No Doors.
Just You.
With Christ, the 'Answer Scales'
Of life are very imbalanced. He
Says 'Yes' far more than 'No'.
So many "Yeses' are recorded,
But so few 'No's'; What gives?
All the'Yeses' did not come right away.
But the bottom line was usually 'Yes'.
For example,
There are multiple 'Yeses',
But allow me to give you four.
'We need more wine'.
He said, 'Yes'.
'Please heal me of my leprosy?'
He said, 'Yes'.
'May I come walking to you on the water?'
He said, 'Yes'.
'Please heal me of my blood disease'.
He said, 'Yes'.
And oh my friend, what countless times
Christ has said, 'Yes' to you and me.
New Hampshire winters
late October arrival
Snow, snow, snow, snow
raw survival
More and more, just piled on
grand for winter sports
if you are a ‘winter sport’…
Come mid-April, Boston's alive with flowers
but up there in New Hampshire
no such revival
~ snow gone viral
The TV brays
as the fall sunset catches
the dust and catches
in your eyes as it sneaks in our window.
And there you are.
You sing your song
and the words,
the deeper ones
the ones underneath,
flash in my vision.
Handwritten little subtitles.
You're happy.
And in this moment,
nothing could ever matter more.
BITTERSWEET (A PARADELLE FOR AUTUMN)
Gone is the bird song that once filled the sky
Gone is the bird song that once filled the sky
Now the wind moans low like lovers in need
Now the wind moans low like lovers in need
In need like a lover, that once filled the sky
Gone is the bird now like a low moan of wind
We have gleaned from the earth its bountiful fruit
We have gleaned from the earth its bountiful fruit
The fields are empty, the harvest is in
The fields are empty, the harvest is in
In the harvest gleaned of its bountiful fruit
From the earth we have empty fields
The leaves are beautiful in their dying
The leaves are beautiful in their dying
This is the swan song of earth
This is the swan song of earth
In their swan song dying
the leaves of earth are beautiful
The sky we have gleaned, empty as bird song
fields the leaves beautifully, in the harvest
dying, bountiful fruit gone, once
of earth in need like a lover’s swan song
filled by the low moans of wind
October Categories
Definition | What is October in Poetry?
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.