The hour: the hour was grey and heavy laden
The ground was cool and damp when my eye fell upon that fair maiden.
A collared jacket pulled up to her chin
A vague smile stretched across the ashen light as I thought about her uncharted skin.
I knew that we were foreordained to dance.
Her hand would be mine if given the chance.

The taste of bitter wine was on my lips, and someone else's hand was placed upon her hips on that day in what was a
cold
sober
October

A bell: a bell that tolls for lost souls has me (cringe) stone white.
Thirteen strikes move me closer, and I dodge each cavernous hole in my adverse plight.
The name that each leaf whispers is Crisp and Wither.
Her heroine eyes beckon me to come hither for I draw near and nearer, on that cold
sober
October

The misty cold.
The misty cold...
'Twould be a blazing fire within my bones if not for that ****** misty cold.
Warm me now; I take thy hand with thy ring that I place upon thee from the kiss of the sea.
One day I too will greet thy queen and upon her sleeve she will bear my love as we walk down that isle on All Hallows' Eve.
I take thy hand and place upon thee the kiss of my sea.

All is naught or ill forgot; for I stand ***** upon that plot that dear October bought.
Filling my head with sense and thought and hoping my love would soon be sought upon that tomb that I too will rot.
In the misty cold, crisped and withered, toiled and rot; I want her mine but she is not.

So here I am, hungover in that
Bleak
sober
October.

I'd show you the black and white photographs of this allegedly cherubic 1 yr-old....



(sonnet #MMMMMCMXC)


Oh me!  How diamonds sparkle in th'exhale
As winds flirt on the lake's clear *****, whence
Blue skies thus mirrored  as erst wont, a sense
Of what? half wrestles in me on that scale
Cuz why aren't we together now, to hail
This bounty in each other's arms?  Leaves thence
All whispring as their boughs rock, yellow hence
Mocks joy as I see Mum in sheer betrayl.
We used to walk down to the valley, tour
The yard lost in whatever, and I knew
Our time was short.  But I don't weep for her
Today as yet, cuz who's distracted to
Effect is also quite obliv'ous.  Poor
As saying is:  I could wish you were here too.

23Oct16b

You are allowed to be disgusted and denounce these early hours.  


(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXXII)


Let's talk of scarlet vines which boldly trail
Across this wasteland yellows own from hence,
Orange like a note what'd gaily trim the sense
Of changing leaves, where purple winks in frail
Touch deep maroon knows best, while blues detail
Tinged with ist lavendar?  Green maples thence
On fire that slowly burns their staid pretense,
Ah me, still let us talk of scarlet's tale.
I can do nothing right.  The weekend, fer
Aught hope of dating's here, and I shall do
Time like I dinna care, cuz in a poor
Excuse I'm hard to get.  Swoon over who
Does not but tease whileas he cares, and you're
All wiser.  Shaun.  Why wake me?  I liked you.

21Oct16c

Oh well.


(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXVIII)


Earl Grey and biscuit for a proper sense
Of yonder ist?  where blue skies fringe clouds' veil
Known as white racks that keener eye'd wax pale
Through as how orange paints bits and pieces hence
Whiles yellow flutters to the sidewalks whence
Tis trod whilst fills aught cracks in sheer betrayl;
La, bony limbs cast 'gainst these heavns look frail,
How vines run riot in deep reds' intents.
Hot soup for dinner, I wear plaid now fer
Ah kicks, a kilt to boot, as if being new
Might salve the galling void I can't endure,
Yet must.  Talk of espresso gadgets to
Think ya, the French Press grand.  And tea.  What's poor
Is blindness cuz the LORD's our life, ne brew.

19Oct16b

I know a girl whom October loves
She is the colors it breathes;

She is
A golden river of champagne
Steadily moving upwards
Reaching for galaxies

She is
The comfort it needs to calm its trembling leaves
Because everything’s falling
Coming down like spring showers
Everything’s changing, screaming Red
And so is she
So is she

She is
A minor miracle
To those who know her  
If only you knew her
If you knew her you’d know
She is screaming Red

Full of determination
Working against gravity
Striving with a passion
Day by day

She is
The trees
Dripping maple syrup
Drawing a line
An amber line
On the horizon

Waking up a
A bouquet of flavors
That should always be experienced
Never described

For there aren’t enough days
To describe the girl
Constantly changing
Like the leaves that fall
Day by day

And when the trees are bare
Once all the leaves have gone
And when cold days invade
Once there is nothing left

You will find her
Radiant as the fall
Golden as the streams
Screaming Red
Drawing an amber line
Day by Day

She is
The Colors October breathes.

I know your  name,
you don't who am i?
but you must be know it
when i look you.
-v.f

eerie music of the night
creeps rustling through
the falling leaves whistling
the rhythm of the wind

each brittle branch is
tat-tat-tat-tattering a
beat flowing against the
tossed confetti of leaves

natures natural music
is sung every night
but once a year in October
Halloween holds its concert