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Aparna Jun 27
Red leaves
           fell silently
Under the maple tree
           by the lake
Where we met  
Last autumn
           Late September;
When the maple leaves
             turned crimson
       you made me
blush just like
those scarlet leaves
       That day ...
                                    Autumn came early,
                                  Why don't you,too...?

            Winter's on the way
           Are you, too?

Where are you...?
After you left, the virid sugar maple leaves turned flavescent 🍁 ,then segued into red🥺          
                       For you,

Yoonsun May 7
The moon has come out tonight—
full and brilliant, a hushed white.

I sip persimmon tea underneath
the Japanese maple tree.

Closing my eyes, the summer breeze
ripples through me.

The koi swim to and fro—
like red ticks on cement,
watch how they dance and go.

I think of years gone by,
the times that passed too slow—
those moments I wish I froze.

The tea is cooling between my wrinkled fingers.

Of memories gone past,
far too fast—
my breath deems too long
to linger.
Lily Feb 18
She never failed to mesmerize,
The poetry girl
With the rich maple eyes.

Her jungle of hair flourished on her head,
Contained by a green scrunchie
While the bangs on her forehead were spread.

A bite of the nails, a twist of the hair,
A brush of the bangs,
And her voice echoed like a call to prayer.

She goes to IHOP every weekend, knows the menu by heart,
Lives on pancakes and unlimited coffee,
Although she has been known to dabble with egg tarts.

She pulled her knees up to her chest,
Two Crocs, one green, one white,
Her gaze as stalwart as a tree in a forest.

When she spoke, her thoughts came out like trails of smoke,
Littering the room with her personality,
Those scraps of beauty as powerful as a thunderstroke.

She never failed to mesmerize,
The poetry girl
With the rich maple eyes.
Grace Haak Dec 2019
the night is syrup
stuck in unmoving maple
measured molasses
Eloisa Nov 2019
Enjoying nature’s poetry,
written in vivid colors.
Each leaf speaks to me
in tints of red and gold.
Red leaves of the maple trees
share lovely memories.
A hopeful dream’s etched
on the golden leaves
of the ginkgo trees.
Trees of brilliant colors
softly humming in chorus.
The beauty of autumn,
the gathering of vibrant hues.
Nature’s imperfection and beauty,
Life and nature’s harmony,
Together, they work wonderfully.
Nature’s visible glories and life’s reality,
Us, our colors inside
as humans,
the mere reflection of our humanity.
What beauty it is to embrace
our magnificent colors within us!
There’s no vibrant
and luminous color,
other than forgiveness,
love, compassion
and kindness
deep within ourselves.
Eloisa Oct 2019
She decorated
her pain and her misery
with red fallen leaves
no truth login Jun 2019
life choices cast in iron skillets,
presented choices that possess no flexibility

twice, she asks me today

morning fruitage, on offer,
peaches ripe to rip real sweet perfection
from your eyes to the remembering salivating mouth,
sweet but just **** enough
strawberries that will wince your tongue buds
intolerant of either, but perfect together

acorn squash,
over roasted to be the violin section
to your barbecued chicken orchestra serenading,
but which shall be the sweetener,
honey or maple syrup,
similar but different

the kitchen floor explosive shakes,
pans to the floor fall, eyelet unhooked all,
spices from cabinets burst forth,
kitchen mittens slapping each other
in utter disbelief

when I reply,
let us choose both!

for there is no bifurcation,
no line of demarcation
on our taste buds
this a truthful -
our lives a perpetual blending,
both will login lead to a
the right and proper ending
Aaron E Dec 2018
We're loose associations.
Brutality queues the phrases.
Reality loses luster,
in fallow with boot to daisies .

Cowering and embracing
our trusted tomes,
honing a fruitless joke,
that only touches on tones that suit the layman

Famous and clueless faces.
Racing to rue the cadence.
Faking a sweet embrace,
for imminent tears, but grew impatient.

California coos
sooth impostor fits,
but it's a syndrome
fifty shades dense,
and way to thick to fit the staples.

In case you were getting wayward;
our guiding fables,
sentinels that they are,
will guard the stables
and bark orders,
pouring out the spirits
and clearing history,
with brazen logic.
I carved a broken heart,
instead of tapping the maple,
sue me.
She's me
chat that
back her
stack as
eyes gleam
and conglomerate
of ceramic
taste that
steal the
heart away
for cause
of now
that mayn't
bring her
down to
this gloomy
bile of
pancakes grief
on a turnpike
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