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Elioinai Jan 28
When the leaves turn gold
I stand in joyous awe

When branches become bald
dread creeps in to the raven's caw

I feel the Red Oak's scarlet kiss
turn like death upon my lips

When every year my confidence slips
that I will see bright life in this
Remind me that green comes back
That verdant veins will run wild again
the dry earth will not crumble away
before spring rains sweep in to quench the brown decay

It comes back
Life always comes back

all that becomes old
will be restored
will be renewed
Let me wrap you in my arms
With no harm,
An oak like kiss
A soft touch,
Closed eyes
Listening to sound of sticks sizzling
Til they turn to ashes!
Golda, do you remember the broken bridge of oak?
Lying o’er the river of the east; the broken bridge of oak
Golda, do you remember that Autumn sunset of red?
That sunset, I rested on that cold bed of ambers and red.
The sun was the brightest red of all light
The river kept flowing its gracious paths

From here, I saw your strands of red, fluttering with this zephyr; there
From here, I saw your nimble feet tapping grace, onto my heart; there
From here, I saw your vivid smile widening mine as this azure sky; there

As my cornet, that night, breathes the song of a thousand nights.
Your feet, that night, taps to my heart, a joy of a thousand sights.
As I dipped my feet onto this great river of the east,
I heard your feet lapping this great river of the east
As our feet were lapping this great river of the east.
I felt your fingers on my heart and… mine on yours.

This blue day, forty-five autumns and rains have come and gone by
From here, I see your strands of red, hidden in an ebony box; there
From here, I see your nimble feet, hidden in an ebony box; there
From here, I see your vivid smile, hidden in an ebony box; there
Golda, As you lay peacefully in that ebony box, alone, in that bed,
I shall lay like you lay, calm, on this hot stove of ambers and red
Till I meet you on the other side of our – broken bridge of oak.
This is another one of my works. I hope you enjoy this.
dplynch Aug 2020
Finches women of ill repute,
Proliferate the once silver street,
Sporting dreams ravaged by toot,
Rainfalls as rainfalls.
Lane O Jul 2020
Goldenrods and oak
Flecks of emerald and amber
Awake! vivid spring
a little haiku for spring
Ali Hilout Jul 2020
If you leave me in the lurch,
And forget the withered leaves
Of my crumbling branches,
Don’t you dare come again!
May the colossal forest be your
Misadventure in seek for filling
Your profound emptiness.
Oh so grand! Deep in the forest;
I shall grow afresh into
The mighty oak that once
Stood its ground mightily;
Embodied in my towering sturdiness.
annh Apr 2020
Autumn pours her vintage, red

and rippling, into casks

of rough-hewn oak;

smokey avenues damp

with the exquisite balsam

of the gleaning season.

A variation on a theme. :)

‘I was drinking in the surroundings: air so crisp you could snap it with your fingers and greens in every lush shade imaginable offset by autumnal flashes of red and yellow.‘
- Wendy Delsol, Stork
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