Poetry Blogs (2019, autumn)

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Long Days Disapearing

entry picture

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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autumnharvestmorning airroots


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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AutumnSeasonsStuart Vanner

Three Times

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


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Autumn leaves to be reborn

The fluttering of the autumnal flags

clinging onto the last hope

of the now distant summer

brittle and brown they hang on

for dear life to their arboreal home.

The bark, it protects and guards the

living trunk against the bite of the

Northerly wind while the leaves

they suffer stoically the chilly breeze.

One final breath, and they are pulled

from their earthly space


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An Autumn in November

An autumn in November
Looks like a crying dame.
Afraid to lose her temper
She is in the oldest game.

A modest dress she wears, 
She loves the melodrama, 
She wants to see who cares
And stays in the nirvana.

She cries because of feelings, 
She sadly looks around, 
She hides her every evening, 
The sorrow she has found.

Angry with her reflection, 
She rarely looks at puddles.

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An Autumn Song for the Traveller

Before I go

Let me drink this rich wine

Let me sing my delight


This gold red dawn has promise:

vibrant with the cold sun

vanishing valley mists

leave damp spider web to shimmer

mistdrops on the long reeds

and ungathered lawn leaves

damply shining

against the muted green of wet grass.

This amber morning has perfection:

wonderfully wooded leaf tints


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The Colorof My Mood ...

The color of my mood is autumn.

It’s high time to write a poem…

The sights are marvelous and amazing.

Some trees are just blazing.

Like an artist the nature paints.

Little by little the warmth faints.

 The trees are razing their leaves,

More often the weather deceives.

Guess, what could you impress?

When autumn weaves a colorful dress!

What frightens us in a fall?


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Storm Watcher

He watched the leaves float

in the pond

windmoving on the surface

drop-pitted by rain,

leaves, orange-brown against the black depths


He watched the leaves stick

to the patio

wetgluing to the slate

slickened by the storm,

leaves, orange-brown against the black stone


He watched the leaves move

on the trees

wildwaving off the branches

leafstripped by t...

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Autumn Thoughts

Black steel

curling wrought iron



Beneath me

coffee steam

and noise



and a poet

sits talking


his foot jiggling

as he gesticulates



autumn sun

shines on wet roofs

and casts

tree shadows

on house walls



the sea is rising


London sinks

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AutumnbalconyBrexitcafecoffeeglobal warmingLondonshadowssun

Late September Morn

I, dreamlost,


to golden leaves of beech


from my bed

as airdew clouds over the hedge

rise and vanish

as the eastern horizon above the valley

is lost, sunk

beneath dawndrifts of mist

not yet warmed to fade

beneath the clear blue sky;

the uncut grass of the dew-wet lawn,

droplet bent:

cool promise as

I, barefooted,


the cusp of the...

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The Season of cleanse

I hear the pitter patter outside my window
So soothing and melodic to my ears now
The rain outside is pouring down
Creating a melodic soothing sound
I again start to finally breathe
As this cleansing process sets me free
The noise it makes charms me
Often helping me see clearly
I long for Autumn to soon come around
It's the rainy season, I have found
The water trickling from the sky

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autumnblisscleancleansefreemelodicmental easepoemquietrainrainingSeasonseasonalseasonssoothing soundsoothongsoundtheraputictherapywater

Epiphany in the Early Morning

Low early autumn sun

a lone long strand of spider silk

                stretched across the window glass

                above a tiny downy feather like a snowflake

shivering in the breeze

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Early Autumn Lake

Below the incurious sheep on the hill

                that stare at me as they endlessly chew

The sun is warm and I perch on a stone to watch quietly

As it is reflected off the surface of the lake:

                the part not covered with pond weed

                where flies dip and buzz

                dragonflies and damselflies dart

                     and hover:


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Autumn leaves through the front door

Autumn leaves through the front door. 

The frightened leaves of the cherry trees 

Flee with the aid of the wintery breeze 

Get caught up in the metal frame 

Of the iron gate that stands tight shut. 

Their autumnal hues and end of the year  

Brittleness complete the picture 

Of the end of one season  

but also the beginning of 

a time of renaissance. 

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Night Next to Day

The rustle of the leaves in the air so dark

The black color of the autumn falls

The whistle of the wind, cool and covert

The striking chill, or lack thereof

The brightness of the moon that shines dull

The freshness of the invigorating air

The comeliness of the sky in bloom

The absence of invalid existence

The want for peace and quietude

The calmness and almost everlastin...

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Autumn's Arrival

The sky in the evening has a

Red tint, a glow

Hot air balloons float by, all

Is tranquil and slow

Already the colours are changing

On the bushes and trees

And the conkers are falling in

The gentle breeze

Let's walk the country lanes

Kick leaves up high

No more wayside flowers

They just wither and die

Make the most of the wild weather

We Have enjoyed today


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De Jeune


Sometimes, inspiration and imagination have strange effects.


De Jeune


Swallows dive, swoon

like wind-swayed ink drops

down, and beyond the light:


swallowed by the sky,

flown blue, over

road-birds – honed

by simple flight.


Like arrows in Canada

in thunderhead afternoons:

clouds rolling, rutting hinds

in migration, pounding sand-trails,


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Above the Valley

As we pass through this Autumn realm,

See the valley bound wraiths of mist

Withdrawing like a tide from the willow

Islands of the marshland

With their starkly black boughed trees

Damply dripping with the mist's remains,

Chill air swirls in the rising breeze, and

Black starlings line the wires beyond a barn

But the red kite in his higher flight

Is lost to sight


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AutumnCaradogCeredigionffriddhillshillsidekitesmountainsred kitesuplandsWaleswalking



Autumn solitude
in a world of two colours
the rush of the wind.


Chris Hubbard


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And then, suddenly, it was calm - the morning wind which threw

rain hard against the window panes and sent beech leaves rushing

across the grass to pile gold-brown against all that the borders grew,

all slowly dulling their greens to wet, muted browns, brushing

the soil as their leaves curl and droop - vibrant Spring-strength gone,

fading sadly.

                         The wind ...

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End of Summer

The end of the season

Brought to a close

Even when there’s a reason

Summer comes and goes

Do you know your summer’s a-fading,

Do you remember?

The hot sun, the warm cooled nights waning

Into September.

School was gone, and I — carefree all along

Oh! Now my old school worries are back

As that sun sets, I’m in sad song

Those shining days, soon to lack

The air beco...

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Druid Lane

We came upon

A mystic way leading nowhere but the hills.

Floored in leaves, tree roofed, bank-bound

Untrodden but by wanderers for centuries past.

What lay beyond, worthy of such industry?

Perhaps a long forgotten hearth tenured by shepherd or crone.

Or did this tended track pass on to a hilltop way:

Miles now lost to grass and sheep,

A one-time druidic path to some time-er...

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Have you been to Wales I say

Really been to Wales

That mystic land of tales and song

On my doorstep my younger days

No boundaries to get there but a different land

Verdant colours and sounds so still

Sparkling, shifting, summer greens 

Autumn hues to confound your eyes

Smells of earth so ancient it shifts your mind

Find your spot to drink it in

Sea, mountain, valley, ...

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autumnlifemystic lanWales

He bleeds Autumn.


Your skin like the yellow brick road,

and what is it that creates that rush of blush?

I’d love to shovel out your flesh or drill through your cheeks

to reach those autumn leaves,

that grow behind the golden weeds,

the red leaves that were never green.

No, never new, they never grew,

they stayed and they remained:

Dying, but never dead,

thriving, behind your face of ...

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The Fall

entry picture

slipping in so quietly
with no coat to hang,
no boots stamp-stamping the ground,
I barely noticed until today,
this same brittle morning
you chose to announce your return.

a first mist asleep on car windows
rehearsing its winter's role,
as early signs of decay
crackle on earth's new carpet,
tired trees in muted shades
breathe damp infusions.

as autumn's shadows grow,
summer prepar...

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autumnThe Fall


Do you hear a rustle
as you walk among the trees?
Do your ears detect a crackle
as you feel the autumn breeze?

In amongst the birdsong
are there murmurs in the lane?
Do you feel a little something
that your senses can't explain?

Is there a ripple as you roam
along that woodland way?
Is it coming from above
Perhaps it's hard to say?

As you walk the forest's path
Is there whisper ...

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Red Poppies On An Autumn Day

entry picture

Red Poppies On An Autumn Day


Never forgotten – here to stay,

a symbol of the hurt and pain

where young men will forever lay.


The old man sells and we will pay

to wear a token for the slain -

never forgotten – here to stay.


Would they have approved? Who can say

If what was lost was worth the gain.

Red poppies on an autumn day


They had little choice ...

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autumnpoppiespoppy sellerpoppy symbolremembrancevillanelle form

Why Do Poets Like Autumn?

entry picture

For Andy Humphrey, with respect.


Because there's poignant glory in decay.
Because each burst of light may be the last.
Because the rusting hasp on dwindling days
grants access to new treasures from the past.

Because of gold and rubies on the boughs.
Because the bitter apple crop has sweetened.
Because we broke our backs in June but now
the leeks we broke our backs for may be eaten...

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Why Do Poets Like Autumn?

entry picture

It's an oldie, but appropriate for the time of year...


Why Do Poets Like Autumn?

Autumn is rain.
Pitiless, bucketing, funeral rain
that makes gutters into rivers
and umbrellas into shreds.
Steaming, fetid rain
tasting of mould and death.

Autumn is roadkill.
Rotting little pools of blood and fur,
once hedgehogs, pheasants, rabbits;
Concertinaed bonnets of Audis
askew across t...

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entry picture

Another moist, reluctant sunrise
through the night sweat morning dew
the worm pushed towards the light
loosely erect

Across the lawn
the over stuffed pigeon
puffed up her unkempt plumage
cooed a taunt
How dare you wake up today
How dare you show that you tried today

Waddling heavily
she pinched him up
gluttony oozing
heaved him away
apatheticaly consenting to his fate


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autumnbritish gardendesolationmonday bluesmorningnaturepunk poetry


Damp and beautiful,

bubbles, rings rippling in the deep, waters deep.

Damp light, patches of pink, yellow and blue,

moving along the rain soaked path.

Umbrellas bobbing, dogs snuffling amongst the leaves, sniffing.

The smell of damp, dirt and soft wood drifting through the air.

Colour, damp and beautiful in the light.

Berries glow, jewels amongst the leaves.

Flowers strewn ...

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Shadows dance in my head,


I dream of time in slow motion.

Shadows that drift into focus,

and into sunlit spaces where they dance in my head.

Softly I turn amongst leaves, turn, turn gathering light and texture

in bundles, simply, soft, falling, turn, turn.

Falling into beds of leaves.

Carpets of colour soft beneath my feet.

Blue, black boots, standing, swathed in...

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I Walk Out of My Door and It is Here.

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The time has come when my sweaters don't seem so strange.

I appreciate this time greatly. 

My littlelest boy in his tiny, long-sleeved frog pajamas. 

My littlelest girl in her plaid and sweatshirt. 

In my mind that song plays over and over.

The leaves fall in the sound. 

My happiness returns with the colder weather. 

My anticipation of excitement expounds.

They in their war...

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funeral days

entry picture

funeral days

funeral days
should always be like this

early mourning dew
in the eyes of those gathered
under a slate grey sky
(not blasphemous blue)
whose heavy tears
will splash
the golden Judas kiss
of leaves crackling
beneath disrobed trees
betraying the sadness
with their joyful colour

the heavy damp sods of earth
clinging close to the coffin
like the grief
that surrounds...

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Winterfylleth (October)

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Winterfylleth (October)


We die! We die!

scream the old men

of the trees,

as their grip slips

from skeletal fingers

holding them aloft.


They fall to earth

in a blaze of golden glory,

coming to rest

at the feet of

great oaks, sycamores,

birch and elms.


Rustling in their cardigans

of orange and amber

like dry skin


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written in the dirt

this autumn morning

winter’s aperitif

is served on the rocks

shaken and stirring


come downpour now

unleash your jotting scribe and

cast the showery runes of fables untried

forge scripts along our droughty lanes

of songs for all that yet remain

or wash away those pages brown,

whelm witness to our temporal sway


we’ll listen to the eager eart...

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That Which Autumn Leaves

entry picture

That Which Autumn Leaves


The clowns were funny in the ring,

as they joked and tumbled and fell -

but in the camp, after the show,

they made our young lives hell.

Still in their masks of garish paint

and drunk on Vodka shots,

they cut and bruised and beat us,

hatching cruel, twisted plots.


I never saw the demons

lurking safe behind the masks


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autumncaravancircusguiltkiller clownsnarrative poemredemption

Walk Through September and Make it to the Other Side

hear the sound of every rusted, blunted mace

as they greet and meet  through gravity’s lack of grace,

each at thirty two point two,

the fateful rate of this heaving season


where fruits misplace a summer’s trust to kiss the dirt

and, where they fall, corrode and stall the wheels of love

for those we find untouchable


while yet our hearts may still enmesh, b...

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autumnfallmortalityunrequited love


entry picture

rott  ing

birch es


like  to

bacc o


summ er

fall    ing


green now

yell      ow


so man

y  oaks


so  few

a corns


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Z, is it merely a typo for X,

a phone pushed too hard

or misplaced fingers on qwerty keyboard?

Or does Z mean sleep tight?

Alas I can never sleep as tight

as when I finally hold you in my arms

and wake to sunshine even in a perilous Pennine Autumn.

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The Autumn Is Coming

entry picture


The autumn is coming,

The August is charming,

But the rain often darkens the sky,

And I know, you certainly love me

As I once long ago loved you.


Why the yearning

Is burning inside you?

Why are you so sad when with me?

Why in August the dreams

Can’t be sweet as in spring?


The rowan is reddish

But not for the anguish

Rain drops k...

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autumnlove song

Here's a poem from notebook 40, the 2nd in fact...



Low-lying cloud,

sheep’s wool snagged on wire,

rain washed.


Plantation trees plain stitched

across the hills’

ribbed sleeve.


Black holes punched in grey

the stippled lake

but no breeze.


Bird-calls; not song.

Make no mistake.

No-one sings here

among the evergreens along

the water’s edge.


Only warning c...

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entry picture


who could have known it?

terrorists taking no stock

would trade in futures


who could have known it?

those towers were autumns bridge

tears coming to fall





                                            A                    R     

                   E                                                                 S

T          T    ...

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9/11 terrorismautumnhaikus

In the Wood

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I will enter the quiet wood,

On the rustling leaves I will dance,

I will watch the Godhood,

I will prance to the autumn’s romance.


I will wear a colorful dress,

I will mix up myself with the leaves,

I will hear what wind says,

I will feel the tender breeze.


I will see a birch in gilding,

A maple in its nice crimson,

A spiders beautiful s...

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In Poetry

entry picture


In poetry, autumn is approaching death.

The mists of receding memory

part briefly in the shortening days

to feed the fruits of wisdom

to admiring young.

The dark night of winter

is a short blight

before life springs forth

again in proud perfection.

Floral beauty and rich crops

have spread their radiance,

fed their progeny, sown their seeds.

Done their job, returned to earth

to ...

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Beyond the Equinox

entry picture


Beyond the Equinox


The land sleeps,

furrowed, cold and still.

Each field edge mourns

in widow’s weeds.

The flocks keep silence

on the hill,

while nature weeps

tomorrow’s seeds.



in golden cloak,

the woodland

whispers overhead

and through the mist,

like incense smoke,

sheds slow confetti

for her dead.


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