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Elle était très gentille
Ne pas l'aimer m'était impossible
Elle était trop jolie
L'oublier m'était inadmissible
Elle était si polie
Que l'ouragan la faisait rire
Elle aimait bien la vie
Et elle avait un beau sourire.

Elle est bien trop polie
Elle aime beaucoup la paix
Elle est toujours ravie
De joie. Je la connais
Très bien. Elle est partie
Je suis très triste. Je ne sais
Quoi faire. Elle était trop jolie
Pour l'oublier à jamais.

Les cloches de la chapelle sonnent
Une autre saison. Très souvent
Je pleure. Je suis triste. L'automne
Est là, mais Alain est mort. Le printemps
Viendra en ****** où fredonnent
Les oiseaux endeuillés par le temps.

P.S. Je dédie ce poème à Alain Barriere (Bellec)qui nous a quittés le 18 Décembre 2019.

Copyright © Janvier 2020, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
heidi Nov 3
The leaves have yellowed,
marking the end of the year.
They fall from their branches.
Madeon Nov 2
Autumn morning
Old man hands picking apples
A woman hangs out laundry in the sun
I feel the wind touching the leaves
The bird flies across the field
Memories are born in a person
The story of a long road
heidi Nov 2
leaves falling from their branches
soaring through the air
before painting the ground orange
winter fed us with blood-red berries and ice clouds,
our visible breath soon colder than our lips.
i did not want to see what you had seen,
could not grow out of those sad, sad eyes.
we fell into the calm wave of circumstance
and twilight hurried from us into the dark.
hurried away like the last drop of sunlight
purples the earth, dancing on the edge of the world.
do we wait, stone-heavy, for the last tendrils
of day to melt like ice?
the fearful cold breathes like a fog,
gathers its stars of voice and hill,
gathers memories and distant dreams,
lets us forget.
are you the ghost that lies on the hill
calling to me?
are you that ghost,
whose irons soften like cloud,
whose frozen leaf trembles on the branch
waiting to fall to the whispering land?
your eyes are from the past and yet
they follow like a cold wind blasts.
your eyes, everywhere your sad eyes,
biting like a frost.
neth jones Nov 2
old man scatters dry leaves
chasing a 'dame'
spying    i become a child
28/10/24
original version
old man chases up to a lady friend
like a smiley child
he kicks up the autumn leaves
as part of the game
The old lady caught up to me
fell asleep forgotten and woke up free
in the magpie madness
cobblestone cradle race

god called me today
with a mouthful of autumn leaves
spider fingers nesting at my navel
I hear her heartstrings
plucking out a buried song
in the last longing lookback
of seasonal surrender
Lizzie Bevis Nov 1
In the hush of cool autumnal dusks,  
the sleepy world slows down,  
and crisp golden leaves  
scatter over the ground.  
The sky now dons
a cloak of twilight grey,  
as the nipping breeze begins to play.  

The streetlamps flicker, their glow a guide,  
as nightfall blankets the countryside,
and families gather at home  
by the warm fireside,  
while the scent of baked apples
with cinnamon flows,  
and a hearty stew simmers on the stove.  

After a warming dinner, laughter is shared,  
and in the heart of the home,  
hot cocoa is prepared  
while the children play games,
building forts from cushions
their giggles ring clear,  
filling the room with joy and cheer.

As the hour grows late, tiredness spreads,  
and soft heavy eyelids
remind them it's time for bed.  
The embers crackle softly,
as the evening grows quiet,
and worn out children yawn and sigh
as November evenings slowly drift by.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Soft light of
Autumn day ,
in sun-shower and memory
and dreaming away .

While humming birds now
in her outstretched hands ,
tell of strange customs
in far away lands .

Where surrounded by every
beast , bird and faun ,
she sings sacred songs
and a new world is born .
Cat Oct 29
Leaves will still fall at autumn,
And giving thanks around a table,
Will proceed as normal.
Merry tidings will still pass.

And birthdays will come,
As we all grow a little older.

Life will proceed;
I will keep on going,
And I will try not to cry this year
When the leaves begin falling.
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