Poetry Blogs (autumn)

The crisp, golden colours of autumn foliage

set a backdrop of warm russets and oranges along the side street.

They glow as the bold shapes of the street lights cut through them,

angular and steely, petrol blue in the twilight.

Dusty, dark bark against the flutter of soft, yet crumpled orange leaves.

So delicate, so beautiful and so impermanent like the heady days of a butterfly.

...

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LeAvEs
How they have fallen,
Laying thick,
Pressing the jostling grass
Under them.
Obliterating it from sight.
Their browns and yellows brighter
Than the grey above.
Achieving a moment of glory,
In death a dominance.
Looking up to freed branches
Framing veiled light,
Had they thought to fly,
Letting go their source of life?
How they have fallen!

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Waking to see autumn's lustre

lit on my beech

rust leaves gilt glowing

red gold bathed by

a rising sun's first grasp

of day.

Turning to see gold amber cirrus

low light the east -

beneath a darker grey purple

cloud bruise

that golden gleam of

dawning dawn.

So my sad grey purple dreams

dawn dim

their dark ghosts disconnect ...

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A fiery clown has come down

Over forests, lanes and towns.

No trumpets blown, no drums rolled,

Out of the morning mists he strolled.

Yello! Yello! It's party-time!,

He smiled. His reds and golds he sprayed around.

And God's whole house was swathed with hues untold.

All about the orange glowed, crimson leaves displayed.

The ceiling now was light with blue.

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The Cleveland cold envelops me like cellophane,

Holding me as tight as a rigor mortis grip,

It clenches at my joints,

Constricting my movement not unlike a python,

Walking feels sluggish,

Lifting my arms is akin to moving through clay,

I revel in the uneasiness of it all,

Joy

Splattered across my face,

Despite all of the kinks the cold brings out,

A childlike wonder s...

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And so it begins. Or ends

The seasons change and as

September dies lies forgotten

Like Summer, Autumn October

Rears. Not misty mellow fruitfullness

With rusty leaf colour bright splashing

Hedgerow and tree russet yellow brown,

Mists that turn to rain and wind and heavy

Rain splashing in the track ruts and puddles

Around the farm;  every field soggy with all the

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Autumn arrives at last, unseasonably late.

Frustrated at being forced to wait,

she makes her displeasure known

in a sudden, howling rainstorm that threatens more

than the dying leaves that are her due.

But she finds herself part-thwarted in her mission.

Others have shown their anger before:

the best plum tree felled by the surprise late snow of April;

the elderberries ...

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In the dimming garden
beneath the belt of Venus
fingers grip a bottle
a nightcap alone

Finally, I belong
finally, I belong to someone
how I’ve run from this
for so long

Now, nothing makes me happier
nothing makes me feel more sure
of anything
than knowing that you’re waiting

There were so many jokers
in the deck
the two of hearts, too many cards
and still dealing, still dealin...

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As Autumn starts to come this way

It is time to reflect upon the day.

Do you see the leaves fall to the ground?

Softly, gently, without a sound?

Do you see the frost and mist and dew?

Do you hope the sky is still blue?

Do you feel the fresh, cool, crisp air?

And shall you find warmer clothes to wear?

Hibernation starts at these times,

As small creatures hope fo...

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When summer turned to autumn

It took me by surprise.

It made me feel so sad.

It made me feel so wise,

To smell the fallen leaves

On the misty morning air,

To think of coming winter

And not to really care.

There's a beauty and a sweetness

In the dying of the year.

There's a mellowing completeness

As the long days disappear.

There's a turning, tur...

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As Autumn starts to come this way

It is time to reflect upon the day.

Do you see the leaves fall to the ground?

Softly, gently, without a sound?

Do you see the frost and mist and dew?

Do you hope the sky is still blue?

Do you feel the fresh, cool, crisp air?

And shall you find warmer clothes to wear?

Hibernation starts at these times,

As small creatures hope fo...

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Three Times

On a thunderous evening

In the still of the storm,

We bounce our baubles of time-passed

Upon tables animated by waved forks,

Dis investing the plates

Of their succulence and garnish.

In the chilly morning, outside

We say again, “Autumn is here”,

Putting away our ideas

Of what the world should become.

We break the earth and rake together

The...

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