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Austin Reed Sep 13
Autumn air;
How you steady me.

Dewy overcast;
Where have you hid the sun?

Swayful trees;
I bought this sweater for you.

Mirrored puddle;
You can’t fool these boots.

Crowding pigeons;
Find your own bagel!

Taxi driver,
Over here! Hey! Over here!
The whistle of the winds
and the scattered leaves gathering
into the air breeze of November
while the music of the cricket's song
lull her away into sleep.

For tomorrow's morning, uncertain.
Her soft silky hair danced on the waves
of the trees;
and its leaves singing with the wood nymphs —
the road is busy with the cars passing
and the pavement's slipping.

“The future is ours.”
She said —
with her chest heaved.
The small droplets of the rain
felt by her skin
as she closed her eyes,
the meaning of her vision
stuck through her.

While tomorrow's may be uncertain —
but the future is hers alone.
Roaring thunders woke her
into a moment of bliss.
The once starless sky
is now filled with the trinkets
of destiny's creation —
maybe in this night alone,
her wishes came true.

That the future is hers alone.
It is uncertain to think of our future. But, let us remind ourselves that the future is ours, alone.
Nylee Sep 1
You were fresh out of September
Dewdrops touching my face

a bright day
A sunny smile
the star lighting me up

A patch of pink and blue

but with rainy nights
and windy breezy evenings

The sweaters of November
will suit you too
.
mary liles Aug 23
in november i stopped dancing
december, singing
january, laughing
february, smiling
and so i shall continue
for you left me in october
and i’ve never been the same
Erian Rose May 20
seasons pass
months fly by
crisp November air
trembles bittersweet
changes go past
from streetlights on main
to budding riverbanks
a love lost
for something and somewhere
far out from grasp
Mark Toney May 2
Come what may in November
Important to remember
Even if spoken in jest
Please do not ingest!


© 2020 Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.
5/2/2020 - Poetry form: Rhyme - © 2020 Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.
Viona Lauren Mar 24
walking down
the lane,
i remember how
you whispered
those three
mesmerizing words,
into my ears
and i hugged you
under the streetlights,
making it
the most beautiful day
of my life.
that day
of November,
my happiness
overflowed
beyond the seams,
i danced and cried,
for the one i loved,
loved me back.
and i wish you had
it in you,
to love me still;  
the way you said
you loved me
on that beautiful
day in November.

©️Written by Viona Lauren 2020
Emir Dec 2019
The sidewalks the grass the dirt and The porcelain glass

Everyday I look past
To the left and to right I see cars pass

Sky blooms like a galaxy
Yet I'm walking forward

Cracks in the road with roadkill
And the only thing I see ahead of me
is a building

Light in it's halls that I walk in
Silent in these hours
Forgot to publish, but just an insight of my settings on my daily walk to school
Wouter Dec 2019
The forest must have been colorful,

peeling off greenish yellow towards rusty brown

The ground is soggy, paths unclear

branches and wind-blown vegetation.

There must have been walkers huddled

or full with their face in the watery sun,

who was perhaps there. They must have looked disapproving

or agreeing. There were also solid beech nuts,

chestnuts or a single *****; fall in November

as you know it, from before and pictures. I don't remember.

You were there.
Written in fall after visiting a forrest with her
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