The air starts to shift and turn cool
A gentle whisper, nature's rule
A softer light begins to gleam
Reflecting in a sleepy stream
A scent of earth, a hint of frost
Where summer's vibrant bloom is lost
The sun descends in golden haze
Through shortening of passing days
A silent setting starts to weave
That only souls who watch believe
The trees in robes of russet dressed
Their leafy crowns now put to test
The fields are bare, the harvest done
A resting time for everyone
The scent of wood smoke starts to rise
Beneath the vast darkening skies
A comfort lies in the night`s chill
As the cool breeze stands deeply still.
This autumn breath, prelude to frost,
To winter`s advent, never lost.
Russet Moon
The moon tonight had a promise
of turning russet
When I looked up, the moon was
full and yellow and had a smile
on a round happy face
What can I say? Was I too late to
See what Planet Watchers had
longed for
Since from the kitchen window
It was the best place to observe
The moon, I made a cheese sarnie
and a glass of low-fat milk.
There is a certain majesty that arrives in the midst of Fall
when splendorous colors adorn Nature's change of dress.
Leaves begin to shimmer in hues of russet, umber and gold.
Like flames of fire, they sway as if gilded by September's sun,
but beginning to show their age with dry and wrinkled skin.
Autumn makes her appearance in Summer's last warm days.
Her auburn hair has darkened to shades of deep crimson.
Each strand a leaf, blown from limbs in a brisk breeze
from trees soon to be stripped of their tattered gowns.
They'll flutter and tumble, twirling round and round
as if in pirouette by ballet dancers in a last performance.
Their swansong grieves me, as to the ground they plumment.
Seeing them withered and shorn, my thoughts are pensive
as seasonal changes make me contemplate their tragic fate.
Does Autumn weep for them as I do? Does she have a heart?
Damp campfires burn mouse bones,
their sooty ghosts
flavor the tattered.
The trees that don't turn,
stay hung on a scaffold
drab and dreaming.
Grey ribbons hang
from pall-bearing branches.
Smoky hollows wallow,
leafage languor’s in the smolder,
colors run in the reek.
The earth hugs its litter,
pulls it under to chew on itself.
Pro Wrestling Tagboard
Main Event Programming
World Champions
Linton " The Heckler " Crampton
&
" The Kreul " Selmer Hurd
Engaged in Grapplefare verses
" Big " Bibby Shuttercrest
&
" The Big Knuckle" Jorge Gigerium
With Manager Richard.Grindhart
Special guest referee
" Succii Sentualist " Borge Calloway
A classic encounter. The fans made the most of it by teasing Big Bibby, and Booing Grindhart
Several exchanges and also of wrestling, and 10:20 Gigerium quieted the crowd when he
Body slammed Big Bibby onto their opponet
Selmer Hurd. The further hushed to silence when he piledrove Selmer and appeared to be on the edge of victory. When from ringside "Golden Stellar" Orsi Gordy came to the ringside area. He distracted Shuttercrest to allow Crampton to roll and small package Shuttercrest for the victory. At the end of the bout words exchanged between Gigerium and Calloway. Calloway whipped Gigerium into ropes and speared him, to the delight of the fans.
Russet sunset overpowering coolness of the day
Showing herself in reds and yellows,
Streaking through October’s pumpkin patches
Straw scarecrows decorating autumn porches
With their stationary smiles and their googly eyes
Staring from fall displays of gourds and Indian corn
Banana bread and pumpkin bread smells
Wafting from the kitchen of the ones who care
About russet sunsets, the ones who decorate their porches
With the reds, yellows, oranges, and browns of autumn
Enhancing her in every way, celebrating the beginning of cools,
Showing their playful sides, in the most melodic ways.
Squirrels with fluffy tails scurrying with walnuts,
Deer crunching through the leaf ground,
Autumn magic smiling her truth.
Blossoms sheer as summer's face
Decorate all of August's trees
They flicker like red trinkets bright
And dips down with such ease.
The flowers gay as mist and spray
To nestle by my feet
Their flavor wafting with dawn's flair
Oh citrusy and sweet.
Each hillside dances a ride
Robed in russet array
Enticed by heat of embrace
On this bold summer day!
Contest Rhyme Verses
russet leaves falling
nonchalantly to the ground...
naked limbs shiver
Kim Merryman
11/2/11
Season word: russet leaves
Strict Haiku contest
Russet Skin
Figure clad in white
Soul clothed in white
Body soaked in wine
Youth entrenched in mind
Foreign name on paper
A specimen of mystery
Unseen splendor
Timeless experience
A living dictionary of life
Your body, scarred by time
Face disfigured by “love”
Hands scarred by money
Hair, grey from thoughts
U have lived a millennia or two
But your origins,
Not a soul knows
Some say, “Descendents of David”
Others, “Remnants of Solomon”
They have dug out graves
Gone through caves
Climbed up Kilimanjaro
Even looked into the Nile
Some look up to the stars
& talk about,
“The BIG BANG”
But No!
You are son of the soil,
Daughter of the sand
Mother earth breast fed you
Father sun baked your identity
Ostriches are raised for you
Cattle Slaughtered
For your honor.
You are a black man
Born of AFRIKA
Blessed by the stars
Cloned by the night
Rise above your feet
Be proud
Scabbard symbol enchanted flowers opal potion milky skin
Gold-embroidered purple robe , green eyes flashing stars.
Beautiful faintly beeswax smell in village meadow chamber
Horse's necklace "clack! clack! clack" sleek coat bobbed tail.
Velvet lined rose queen , green tree snake salty evening air
Tea tree branch , topiary mazes , old Kingdom noonday sun.
Fresh dawn , wood ash , surrounding woods, veil of mist
Twisting and turning , sliding and re-arranging themselves
slender fingers pulled the needle back and forth on the loom
Nuzzling against his face an eager lip/nostril whiffling noise
Ice crystals etched along its blade felt the glow of his spirit
took a deep breath voice tiny siver bell with a high sweet note.
Brightly wrapped box he suddenly smiled a number of times
Wispy tendrils of red curls straggled free of their satin ribbon
She paused to feed a thread of scarlet into the pattern of blue.
They continued up the hill , beyond the ridge they saw the King
riding , his amber-coloured stallion charged ahead of his men
at the edge of the creek , green with ferns and rich moist moss.
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