I look at the tree
The autumn leaf falling down
Longing for a change
An armadillo leaned on a fence,
too wilted to muster a proper defense.
His cowboy hat slouched
like a biscuit overbrowned,
his dignity having long since left town.
The relentless sun blazed down with cheer,
roasting the pasture for the fifteenth month this year.
Grasshoppers staggered.
Mesquite trees panted.
Even the buzzards looked disenchanted.
The dillo squinted west and sighed,
I reckon I'm medium-well inside.
One more degree
and y'all will see
roadside jerky where I used to be."
A bead of sweat rolled down his snout.
He watched it fall. He watched it sizzle.
"Autumn," he grumbled,
"has missed her exit.
She's probably lost near Abilene."
The fence post offered little aid.
The shade was merely shade-adjacent.
He tipped one claw
to his hat and said,
"If anybody spots October,
tell it I'm awaitin'."
The kids all long for Halloween,
and know it's shortly Bonfire-night,
around the corner, Christmastime.
The shops have toys for Christmastime
beside the squibs for Bonfire-night,
near creepy stuff for Halloween.
Choose Cath'rine Wheels for Bonfire-night
and get the cards for Christmastime,
while picking sweets for Halloween.
Shop now for Halloween, Bonfire-night and Christmastime!
The loons haunt the sunset
Whispered warning in the darkness
Alert the fawn as it slowly sips
A last golden arrow
Pierces the edges of nightfall
Tiptoes across the silent lake
Each ripple an unseen presence
Both prey and predator
Searching for each other
The moon square dances
With its prancing shadows
Changing partners on the wind
The stars hold their applause
bright red sunrise
lends fuchsia to blue sky....
stillness in air
soon sun will heat earth
a hot middle september day
The autumn day is beautiful and sweet,
and the sounds of nature ring loud and sharp;
I stand listening to a lone bird song.
His tweets, chirps and twirls an echoing song,
I am in awe of his melody sweet;
and then, the wind answers in whispers sharp.
Somewhere, a tree branch breaks with a crack sharp,
disturbing tranquility of this song;
I love nature and the hidden sounds sweet.
Let this sweet, sharp, song ever drift and float.
I wandered out beneath late-summer skies,
a blue so wide it felt like open thought.
The road before me stretched in quiet sighs,
inviting me toward places wonder sought.
A compass rested lightly in my hand,
its needle trembling as if it could feel
the pull of distant paths across the land~
those whispered routes the heart keeps half-concealed.
I followed where it pointed, mile by mile,
past fields still holding sunlight in their seams,
each turn a question, each new step a smile
that rose like wind through half-remembered dreams.
And when the day leaned softly into night,
my wandering felt shaped by blue-tinged light.
I emerge from a long night
where mind, muscle and bone
failed to find a place, a posture
quiet and comfortable enough
for sleep. And so I have arrived here,
daybreak on this spring morning
with the resident blackbird
performing his familiar
all to early reveille.
I envy his vigorous rousing
lifted full volume
into the morning silence
as if all nature was called
to stir on command of his voice,
no equivocation or hesitant stall
to doubt the worthiness
of his song.
It holds the chords of his being,
a moment when sound
and self are one, meld
into living art. I gather the bits
and pieces of myself
left by the interrogations
of last night, search for the notes
that contain a little of who I am,
pick up a pen to make
myself into me again.
September is blessed with one of the best.
You'd remember him if you ever happened to meet;
Aaron is the name of that fine, dandy dude.
I'm building a tower of mirth with my virtuous dude.
We set each brick together - hand in hand always works best.
Today is his birthday, so for a fete, we should meet.
At a park, by a beach, or on a casual street is where we may meet.
Must it be a costly, boastful retreat when frugal is ten times best?
Simple but mellifluous harmonies created by a Pisces with her Virgo dude.
September's best, blessed to meet, and he's my dude, wholeheartedly!
Humble sunflower
Humble smile
Smile with grace
Smile with pride
Pride is the devil
Pride is power
Power in showing up
Power in not giving up
Up with the dead
Up with the living
Living with revelation
Living with werewolves
Werewolves are sheep
Werewolves are real
Real silver
Real stars
Stars give guidance
Stars give light
Light up the world
Light shines on money
Money for me
Money for you
You have choices
You can love
Love to fight
Love to fly
Fly through time
Fly without wings
Wings translucent
Wings never sleep
Sleep talk
Sleep walk
Walk on fire
Walk on the moon
Moon landing
Moon crash
Crash against the stars
Crash on man
Man made
Man king
King shame
King David
David defeats Goliath
David the artist
Artist struggles
Artist cry
Cry for joy
Cry for pain
Pain
Joy
September is busting out all over,
leaves with pretty colors,
fill the cool air.
A new sweater for the cool morning air,
will keep me warm as I pick up pretty leaves over and over.
I love the red and orange colors.
Birds of many colors,
are singing as they are flying through the air,
they keep going to the bird feeder many times over.
September will be over with new colors to fill the winter's air.
September is a season in between,
where nature is silently changing.
Where what is grown becomes a harvest.
Where stocks of corn invite a harvest,
with longer nights and shorter days between.
To reap the fields in a season changing.
September for farmers is a time of changing.
When fields are plowed after the harvest,
as they move from fields to silos in between.
September's changing between seasons brings a harvest.
My September a promise I forever remember
those smiling blue eyes never would lie
Never never of my September
She knows to her I am rather fond
She knows to her my heart belongs
She never lets me know for sure
She laughs before I hear those words
Love me my September
be with me forever and all
for life and after
Love me my September
Pluck a petal of a rose
she loves me
pull another let it go
she loves me not
till only one left
answer already known
My September a promise fondly remembered
another she loves not me
with love how it can be
But the night has a silver moon
and it lights the beauty of my June
My June smitten in love under our silvery moon...
soft rain
threads through the quiet,
silvering roofs and branches~
a gentle shift
toward fall
Just something a little light...
Five squirrels crowded onto a branch,
each one dressed to stun:
aqua shades, pink shades, purple shades,
and one in classic sun.
But center stage is the showstopper~
a squirrel in a whirring hat,
its tiny fan spinning proudly
like he’s chief of all things “that.”
They chatter, pose, adjust their gear,
a cheerful, nutty crew,
delighted by their leafy perch
and the sky’s wide, wandering view.
No drama here, no woodland fuss~
just friends who came to play,
a happy scurry of squirrels who know
how to brighten up a day.
September Categories
Definition | What is September 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.