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CK Baker Oct 2017
dust cloud heavy
in an apricot sky
cottonwood mucker
under ambrose pale
whippet and shepherd
mill at the earth patch
yellow birch hangs
over red bench park

combine shavings
in crack rust brown
scissors chips
fall to the back stop
whiskey jack looters
sing patented chords
siblings (and 2 wheel enthusiasts)
give thanks

joyous retrievers
master the criss cross
bare maples stand
at settlers way
barred owl and blue jay
whistle the fore-wind
ghosts
and goblins
pull at the seeds

wind gusts belt
over the west gulch
blood rush churns
in a chilling fall morn
hallowed grounds still
at the midday
quiet reflections
of the afghan
and hound

jumpers unite
at the oxbow
route runners bend
(on a sultry foray!)
meadows exposed
in the framework
ball park empty
with pennants past

barrel dirt favors
the brew house
crimson and copper
find bracken ridge gate
harvest hands savor
the honey and hops
blankets of color
for a winter's hatch

brush fire kept
under steady peruse
bark bites fly
and embers glow
pine cones drop
from timber tops
3 wick candles
set the dinner place

shiver and ******
at the piper's call
cob web dew
on shadowy gates
a chilled mist mellows
the season's return ~
poets and artists
and dreamers awake
The Spider Jan 2016
Our Autumn has arrived, but I don’t predict another spring.
The Autumn leaves are here to stay
but Autumn herself leaves.
Her wake
forever freezes us over, petrifying us to watch the sufferage.
The sufferage of the people around us.
Starvation, damnation, and crimes that are uncontrolable.
The autumn leaves are here to stay
but Autumn herself must leave.
I leave along side her, I am not here to stay
and watch you fall apart.
Your Autumn has arrived, but I really don’t predict another spring.
I wrote this for an english project in 9th grade. We had to use a song and build a poem from it
Danny Z Sep 2018
As Autumn approaches,
my mind drifts to the decaying leaves,
Halloween,
the cool, crisp breeze...
The communal understanding that eternal heaven comes only with
death—
that Summer must always go.
And that beloved Autumn must always usher in bitter Winter who lays the foundations
for an exalted Spring.
Oh hell...I hope for a long Autumn, I want to make it stay—
like a host who lectures his party guest for too long
so he won't look at his watch.
Oh how I need the frumpy sweaters and pumpkin heads on window sills!
Oh how I need the billowing steam from milky beige cocoa,
the misty light rain in the gray of the morning,
the high canopy of fleshy red flakes!
And echoes of children laughing as they eat candy on their way home from trick-or-treating—reminding me that life can be enjoyed
with sacred rituals and good company.
I need Autumn personified—
a cool-headed, crackling-fireplace-girl.
A quilt-maker, cloud-gazer, two-dogs-and-a-cat bookworm.
Someone comforting like oatmeal.
Someone surprising like the first day of school.
I need Autumn.
I need Autumn but it never seems to need me too.
over the past weeks
a gentle autumn sun
has painted colored leaves
upon the ground
and thinned
the bright abundance
of the wooded ranges

most of the harvest
is securely stored by now
or sold at morning markets
by weathered men and women
in country garbs

vintners are busy with their lots
fermenting grapes
and entertaining those
who see their visit
as pleasant pastime and escape
from daily urban chores

hunters and lumbermen
are waking up
to shoot and mark

schools by this time
have settled into the new year
teachers are happy still to share
the knowledge of our world
with students still inclined
to listen

businessmen
remembering their vacations
on the Bahamas or in Saint Tropez
step sprightly into offices
womanned by secretaries dreaming secretly
of beautiful Mallorca summers
and of those never-ending nights
on the Algarve

I guess it is a human thing
to find a new beginning
and do best
when nature’s breath goes easy
to collect the strength
for yet another fruitful year

or were it better
that we also took a rest?

           * *
gracie Oct 2018
Keats says, "transcendence of the self",
so you become a fox, copper-coated,
bright-eyed. You become the light of a
harvest moon, playful and sweet,
dancing across the forest floor,
you become a lingering scent
on my thrift-store sweater: balsam or
cold brew coffee, wafting
through the bustling café. You become soft
Sunday afternoons, forehead kisses and
pretty words whispered over the phone,
the curl of my lip as I drift off
into sleep.
hey
i think ur p cool
i like u alot
maybe we could... hang out? or somethin'
Skaidrum Oct 2015
...
I've got a few visitors tonight;
they're all associated with the wolf under my eyes

I.
I've left loneliness to starve on a stone table,
while jealousy can bleed me a lake;
fear and I are equals,
on the battlefield of fate.

"Pay no mind to the rebel."
II.
Forked tongues recite wickedness; of all
the shadows gaining power as the sun was slain.
Black flames banish all that is golden,
as darkness bent my silent skeleton;
but it didn't break.

"I'm just some sin you committed...right?"
III.
A basilisk waited for me at my chambers,
it requested a lullaby, and a glass of iron wine.
Who knew poison would be my new best friend?
Who knew my company would be kept by
an oracle of silver'tongue?
Dead languages clutched my
lively secrets.

"Every wolf gets tired of the moon at some point."
IV.
And just like that;
We were splintering at your wolfsong
auburn poems at the feet of trees
waist deep in misery you sat,
head crowned in autumn's diseases.
Witnessing you tilt your head to plant a kiss
on the night's wings;

"Oh, it's ******* agony."
Watching your eyes harvest hurricanes
love sinking in tongues
of ebony sorrow.
they don't belong to me
you don't belong to me.

"I suppose I can't change the world
but I will leave it colder."

V.

And sometimes, love is just the aftermath
of a tragedy.

...
I deserve to suffer over you, Lycan.
I always have deserved it,
this is my curse.
© Copywrite Skaidrum
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2018
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer,
painting maples in hues of brilliant oranges and reds.
Long shadows of late September streak across the last blades of grass,
as fall’s stark contrasts light the afternoon.

The seasonal wind breathes cold with the smell of autumn in the air.
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer,
while cottony clouds in a sea of cornflower blue, slowly slide out of view,
chased down by v’s of geese as they race across the sun.

Helicopter seeds line the sidewalks, green and gold, as others float on the wind,
down to join with cones and acorns awaiting next year’s crop.  
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer.
Crows, harbingers of the winter to come, make their sad calls.

Squirrels pause to pack their cheeks with Fall’s fare and scurry to secret caches,
their bulging cheeks filled with fallen nuts and acorns.
Fall greets me with a kiss as summer bows to its chill, as
Autumn’s brusque wind slices its way through the remnants of summer.
Autumn Quatern.

All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
The uniVerse Oct 2018
Her name was autumn
her hair a colour auburn
like a fallen leaf
drifting on the breeze
spiraling spiraling
out of control
a free spirit
with a wild soul
for she had no master
a limitless beauty
all I heard was her laughter
as she danced for me.
https://www.instagram.com/p/ByEKYRYnBmG/
ardnaxela Aug 2018
Embarrassment
Leave her faces imprinted in the pillow.
Distress
Leaves her voices hoarse and the cotton warm.
Sorrow
Leaves the fabric soaked in tears.
Rage
Leaves her hands in place until her breathing is shallow.
Defeat
Leaves her mind helpless against this attack.
Autumn nightmare
Lily Feb 2015
In the middle of the night,
we were cold rolling stones
in an empty street.

Our souls bundled up with some sense of permanence
as you walked me home for the last time;
It was home, for the last time.

The darkness of night trespassed my secret shelter,
at the lingering of our embrace.

The first and last warmth
I had felt,
was yours.

Morning would be colder,
I might not feel the same acquaintance with autumn
as I had with you.

I walked with you under trees,
spots of sunlight rested on our skin and clothes;
orange-gold leaves falling
around our bodies, softening the ground,
beneath our feet.

In our innocent nature,
we stood in defeat.
the first poem
Robert C Howard Sep 2018
Prophesies of impending fall
     creep stealthily over the Great Divide.
Gold-green Aspens shiver in the breeze
     like leagues of fibrous wind chimes
serenading the mountain slopes
     with aires of shimmering gold.

A few distant bugle calls echo
     across the Big Thompson valley
as bull elks warm up for the autumn rut.
     Sudden early gusts of frigid wind
bring waves of sleet and snow -
     in tune with the turning polar axis.

The greater chill is soon to come.
     The animals know it as do we.
Bears bulk up on grasses, roots and berries.
     Elk and deer drift down from the heights
To show their young the ways
      of the plains and river valleys.

We pull our sweaters on
     and toss another log on the flames
and greet the harbingers of approaching fall
    creeping stealthily over the Great Divide.

September, 2018
grace Aug 2018
crisp clean cold air
fills my delicate lungs
leaving traces of sweet
cinnamon and sour apples

soft breeze blows through
my already tangled hair
finding comfort in
my brown locks

crimson stained skies
kiss goodbye to day
outlining city silhouettes
as it goes

brown leaves laced in gold
crunch beneath my feet
searching for a way back
to their naked home
bees May 2017
Autumn wind whispers your name
As the color of the leaves changes to flame
Earthly green to feverish red
I wish we could be more than friends
Before autumn ends
Her eyes are beautiful with a hint of sadness, so dark and dreamy
KiraLili Oct 2015
Sea born mist hangs low
One can almost smell November in the vineyard
Grape leaves curl in fall colours
The sun has no warmth anymore
Only last years vintage to shake the chill
Goat cheese paired with Malbecs fermentations
Bread to soak up the vines nectar
Summer's essence is held in a glass
Earths vocation and fruit warmed by a hand
You can still feel the summers sun
In the bouquet of last years wine
A coastal vineyard in fall
nathaniel Sep 2018
august’s withered days swing from view.⠀⠀
flicker of a breeze caresses earth’s cheek.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
crinkle of a leaf, a wail beneath your feet.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
a wispy veil of dew covers the dried remains of a summer’s past.
treetops glistering, vibrant golden hues⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
first flicker of daybreak rising slowly.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
an infant’s feeble cry of autumn’s might.⠀⠀⠀
although november is my favorite month, september has always held a special place in me, even if it feels like it flies by so fast.
jane taylor Oct 2016
as you awaken
from deepest slumber
as amber dawn
opens your eyes
with whispers of lavender
remember the sweeping stillness
allow it
to continually cascade
washing you
with hints
of autumn’s rising sun

©2016janetaylor
i place many of my poems over my photography
to see the poem/pic combo go to
http://www.janetaylorhardy.com/single-post/2016/10/15/autumn-awakening
Knit Personality Sep 2016
The day is dismal,
Dark, and abysmal.
With all the humor
Of a brain tumor,
It laughs till it cries,
And lives till it dies.

O.O
Those leaves are falling, falling in
Forget all the moment you've been hiding

Falling into autumn is falling into a rain
Every splash is a joy, forget all the pain
Won't guess what's next, torture or sting
Can't look at life with a huge amount of stiff


Muhammed Emin KUŞASLAN
Hey guys.. Thank you for reading.

To see the full version of "FALLING INTO AUTUMN" and my other poetries you can check this link. It is my poetry blog.
https://muhammedeminkusaslan.blogspot.com/
My instagram: @eminkusaslan

Take care -E
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