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julie Oct 2018
trees are changing their robes;
on misty mornings
I am sitting on my porch.
a book  
I've found in a vintage bookstore
at the corner of my street
is lying in my lap

drinking a tea
wrapped into my favorite blanket
and watching my neighbors
carving their pumpkins

smelling the scent
of firewood
while also listening to
Frank Sinatra

autumn, oh autumn
where have you been?
unnamed Oct 2018
autumn skies and pumpkin pies.
great orange fields, large in size,
leaf turns to leaf as gold comes to see;
what excitement to behold, and how happy to be.
nippy air and extra layers of sleeves.
bitter cold air as my breath comes alive.
wisping away, fast deep into loving lives.
Oh October is here and I feel just happy!  
to be with everyone with hair blowing shaggy.
I love this time, and I hope i explained why.
it's these
autumn skies
and
sweet salient sighs.
Alright everyone autumn and fall are finally here ( in Texas at least) and i'm beaming with joy right now because it's finally gonna be cold again.
Michaela Oct 2018
Crisp leaves under me
The smell of pumpkin candles
Autumn is now here
Haiku
my sheer
wend this
goal when
score is
low and
pasture is
blue as
our chronology
indigo that
boogaloo in
the steps
that triumph
with such
adversity that
group in
a mantric
frost again
A frosty night
Callie Apr 2018
a lot of things are overrated
     like coffee
         or pumpkin spice

but one thing that isnt
     is
  being nice
Star BG Feb 2018
Pumpkin seeds,*
sprouted in head,
making way for
dreams of marching
in the Halloween Parade possible.

Pumpkin seeds,
expanded in mind,
gives self a grand idea
for Halloween costume
destined to win first place.

Pumpkin seeds,
growing in head
produces pumpkin,
with eyes that glow like moon
on October night.

Pumpkin seeds,
beware you don’t
eat too many.
Otherwise you might become one,
meant to be cut and displayed
at doorstep ledge.
First poem of the day.
One never knows what lurks in the mind of a poet.
Oh my another poem has just been born. LOL
Check next posted poem.
Asominate Jan 2018
Pumpkin patches,
So wretched
Leaving me with all stitches

Did you get me?
Can you see

Through the darkness
to be continued?
Poetic T Nov 2017
scary faces fade
pumpkins feed a family
bellies so thankful
Poetic T Oct 2017
The innocence of a fur darker than
any onyx, yet fur was softer than any silk,
woven upon a abomination of existence.

           The purr was a melody of paper cuts,
bleeding its victim unto a sleep of deathly
peace, but they had an alternate motion.

For when the lacerations on the mind
seeped the illusion of slumber did true
intensions manifest and it did feed..

                  It would kiss upon the lips,
inhaling not breath but life, tasting it
deeply, it purred as what was youthful
now cradles in the lullaby of death.

         But there were a litter of ravens
calling of bereavement, each purring on
this night. Their melody sinking the living
in to the purgatory of nothingness, till
these felines expelled their gift.

         The pumpkins that with every exhale
lit some what brighter, till they were full.
The gateway was open for that of otherworldly
desires breathed through orange flesh.

A smile once inanimate now had life,
              Where once only a head once looked,
now over oak bones did the flesh of orange
spread. Where just a light of candles lingered
slowly been extinguished,
           Thought became clearer, as a cats melodic
meows did sing to this moment that it had inhaled.

When all was consumed features changed,
orange became like subtle tan. And with wide eyes
open it breathed its first breath. Blinking upon
existence, now vacant hollows glimmer.

                It looked down, seeing its subordinate.
They were linked from this day, for if this nights
creation were to be injured, the breath of another
taken by its onyx cat could heal.

But if this cat ever passed the road of death,
then what had been gifted with others moments
would be but inanimate once more.

           A pumpkin with a shattered smile dead...
But the worst is yet to come for if those years weren't
used up. Then life would be returned from once it
was stolen, and the buried scream loudly.

But when your buried no one hears your screams
but the dead.. And if for ones cremated, have you
ever heard the wind scream..
         So this little kitten is the life of every pumpkin,
filled with the fleeting moments of life.

And you'll always see a lightly tanned man stoking
his cat on the porch but watch his smirk..
For a pumpkin is only as good as its smile.
And when he does it lingers of inhaled death...
Poetic T Oct 2017
void empty caskets
sunken eyes, luminous stares

dead smiles do linger
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