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S R Mats Aug 29
Everything begins to mellow
Into softer shades and hues.
Yet, with a brightening of yellows
As autumn has her dues.

Winter birds fly in on tired wings.
And these new birds begin to sing.
They'll scratch and have no rest
As all life seems to hold its breath

And wait for spring.
I am so ready for fall!
S R Mats Aug 29
John Keats wrote:
"Where are the songs of Spring?"
Who "singest of summer in full-throated ease?"

"Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
    And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue."

Who sings the autumntide?
To autumn, to autumn goes the praise!
The "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness."

The hordes of all manner of bugs caught
"Among the river sallows, borne aloft
        Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies."

Autumn has her way with them all.
And she is coming, so hail the queen
   in leafy crown of yellow, orange, and brown.

For we will find "The loveliest and the last,
The bloom, whose petals nipped before they blew
Died on the promise of the fruit" in winter.
S R Mats Aug 28
Ima write poetry like 6 7.
Yo, my lyrics trip to heaven.
I'm only 5' 5" but rap like 6 11!
It ain't 'bout color doh.
Shut up 'n shoot, Doot!
S R Mats Aug 23
Gravitas
Veritas
Give a toss
S R Mats Aug 20
In the scene just before daybreak,
I see you there, smiling your thin smile.
Two stars nearby give you the look of a Picasso
Painted on the canvas of the night sky.
                                            *
                                     (
                                        
S R Mats Aug 18
Imagine you and me,
Clover chains in our hair
Prancing around,
While putting on airs,
As we dance across
The cool blades of grass.

Our childish laughter
Erupts in bursts and blasts.
We squeal each time
We step on fallen pecans
From the hundreds of trees,
Which surrounds our house

Like a comforting womb.
S R Mats Aug 15
Greenery, like arms reaching out
Beckons creatures on wings
Amidst pink puffs of profuse petals
Cotton ball-like, full-blown blooms
Rows of roses in technicolor shades
Diaphaneity shimmers flash about
As powdery soft multicolored
Shapes like floating cut fabric flit
With momentary kisses given
As brief as a whisper or a shy peck
Fluttering beauty among beauty
Each to each, in a flurry of action
Breathlessly, we say, "Welcome, visitors!"
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