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Jessie Schwartz Feb 2018
Autumn…by Jessie 9/05

Autumn, the days visit shortly and the earth sighs
The winds tide changes dropping from the north
Crisp; clean, awakening

Leaves rustle high, amongst the outstretched arms of each branch
One last dance, then in an exhausted state, drops
Carried ever so gently on whispered winds

A blanket of colors tucks in the ground
Eclectic tapestry, colors and shapes
Shuffled feet reweaving

Cinnamon smells and autumn leaves, permeate the air
Aromas lure forgotten times
Innocent and pure
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2017
Winterfly of moonlit dreams.
With wisps of smoke, and coiling wings.
Snow drop falls.
On crisp brown leaves.
At the snap of a twig,
You rise from ash to sea of stars.
The sunlight dances on the fresh coat of ice.
Based on a lucid dream I had as a Winterbutterfly.
-df Aug 2017
as i walked out the door
this morning, i felt it.

i felt the crisp in the air.
the promise of cooler days.

remembrance of things long ago forgotten.

Autumn is near.
hand me my jacket.
my season is about to begin.

{d.f. - 08/28/17}
counting down the days till it's officially autumn.
The Tinkerer Oct 2016
Quiet nights remind me of your voice.
The silence cut ever so delicately.
Blades of whispers.
Whispers of sweet nothings.
What keeps the fire in this heart alight.

Quiet nights remind me of your eyes.
The glint of a beautiful moon.
The hope of a million galaxies,
Twinkling.
As darkness cowers.
Hides.

Quiet nights remind me of you.
All the little things that you would do.
And though half a world away you may be from me.
Though once in a blue moon, you I get to see.

Quiet nights like these.
Will always remind me of you.

*Emily
Clear, crisp, beautiful warm night with the moon up high and the stars out playing with the fires in our hearts.
These nights remind me of you.
It's been 84 days and counting.
Far from me you may be, but too far you will never be. :)

Happy birthday you strong, beautiful young lady..
May all that's good be yours and all you wish be true someday. :)
She was dressed in mustard,
on a tall golden chair
She sat before clean,
crisp and clear silverware
around her, nothing mattered
not even the polluted air
she left, nobody noticed
they ask "was she even there"

-Kaya
lulu Aug 2016
Sweater sleeves dangling past your cold fingertips;
leaves drifting soundlessly to your feet.
The air is so cool and crisp and it feels so clean
and fresh against your skin and in your lungs.
You can feel the past slipping away,
making way for the new and exciting things the autumn season brings you.

Long, intellectual, enlightening conversations
that happen in the coziest of places with the friendliest of people.
Warm coffees and teas drank next to equally as
warm fireplaces and comforters.
Ginger and spice scenting every home you enter.

Wishes being made and promises being kept.
Walking hand in hand with the love of your life,
wearing jackets and mittens and knowing that everything is finally alright.
Nose kisses and long hugs to chase away the cold.

I wouldn't call is autumn so much as the one time of year you ever feel at home.
** Write a poem inspired by autumn. What does it smell like? What does it feel like? What does it sound like? What does it look like? What does it mean to you? Send them to me! I would love to read them!!! **
Cameron Boyd May 2016
I want to bottle this air just for you
I wish I could wrap it up and bring it back!
If I could hold my breath long enough this would be easier.
So I think you should just come with me next time
So I can kiss you

I wish you could feel this breeze
I wish you could come above the clouds!
If I had a fan just gentle enough then maybe I could show you.
Until then I think you should just come with me
So I can brush my fingers through your hair.

I wish you could see these flowers
I wish you could see these colours!
If I could show you the shades of your eyes maybe then you'd see
So next time I think you should just follow me
And we can smell the same flowers together

I wish you could feel these hands,
I wish you could feel these lips!
If I could place a kiss on your cheek and my hands on your hips
Maybe I wouldn't have to ask you to follow me
And we could smell the same flowers together
And roll around in the same grass
Forever.
Vladmir Putin May 2015
Frank Sinatra
En mi casa
Copy pastarino

Wearin Prada
Russian opera
Quentin Tarantino
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