"novembers" poems
To November,
Thanks a bunch
for reminding us,
that the letting go
is the only way to make roads
for new blooms!
Every November I felt something new. November is full of change, nothing remains the same as before!
Acceptance: Somewhere in the month of November, I met a new person who changed me inside out..!! Embraced me with love, gave the warmth in those chilly days. We spent moments with happiness and shared our fears in the night sky, witnessing clouds uncovering the moon. Dreamt of good things, peace, and a bucket full of love. And November turned out as a happy month to me! No matter how much I tried but memories kept coming back, making me blush every single time..!!
Togetherness: Time passed really very fast, Again November came! I remember, spending days like never, contemplating each other’s hearts. Aimless drives, messed up schedules, movie marathons, street foods, and open bottles of beers. I found a home in him, a home of love with no limits and no worries. We promised to step together, holding hands in November, and to hang out till the November dissolves! And yesss we did...few Happy Novembers!
Separation: And then a few years later a day in November came with lots of new feelings..! Feeling of abandonment and betrayal just like dull and dark days. Crying in freezing night under that large yellow full moon but this time all alone! It felt cold, even the stars were extra cold to me; lights were so dim that paths were invisible. My heart was aching, and my trust was dissolved. I was miserable and pitiful! Always lost and struggling in the memories of past and present!
Learning: And now it’s again November I see blooming flowers and sometimes butterflies..! Red, Pale, Blue, Pink and White flowers. And it doesn’t feel like cold/dry or happy month to me! and as I see he got engaged so, probably a month for him too! Now I see November as the month of change and new hopes. This November taught me no matter how dry the weather is but you have to keep blooming, And I have realized that not everything is worthy of you! If something feels like a burden to you, just remove them and make some space for new dreams. And that’s the only way!!
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 12:36 AM UTC
kissing away the spice of fall
i can’t help but want to remember
the way you glow brighter
with every passing moment.
sunrise starts the day
like a golden peach luminescense,
but the tenderness i feel
is no where near
to the love you give,
it is not that of the sun,
but from the warmth
of your beating heart next to mine,
burying in the sweetness of you,
like i am enraptured in quick sand
soaking novembers stroll,
it's rays caress me,
deeply planted on to my chest
my veins turn to roots of lilac vines
so i let you plant a kiss on my lips
and wish me a better tomorrow
cause your smile begins
to melt from my thought
and your greenhouse effect
affects me not
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC
[Life]
I
A man with no shoes
walks by with a limp.
His arms -
covered
in tattoos
and scars -
are lethargic
by choice.
The biting
winter sun
delivers respite
from late December
northerlies.
He reeks of Franzia.
Redolent, it shadows
him, haunts
him like what he drinks
to forget.
His unkempt white beard
is stained yellow
around the mouth
from years of cigarettes
and no-shave Novembers.
He dons a jacket
- faded glory -
that is two sizes too small
and his pants stay together
like a couple for their kids.
Too proud to join
the Salvation Army
on Christmas Eve,
he finds his bench,
lies down
and survives
one
more
night.
II
A man in a suit
drives home in an Audi.
His collar
is stained
with cheap lipstick
and Chateau Lagrange
from last night's
late night meetings.
Angie, his wife,
waits anxiously
at the door
of their four bedroom,
three and a half bath
Victorian.
Her eyes -
still puffy
and red -
fixated up Swann St.
She is not blinking
and barely breathing.
The kids
have been sent to Grandma's
for the night.
They watch TV -
SpongeBob SquarePants.
The Audi
drives by a man on a bench
He looks asleep -
possibly dead.
The suit inside thinks to himself:
“That poor man.”
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 9:33 AM UTC
November dazzles
In its mundanity.
The month between the
Russet autumn and blue winter.
Skeletal leaves
on the lyre are strung
In azure frosts
in emerald forests
and encrusted with rubies.
Novembers reclines in its throne.
In a minute,
a minute or so
It will slip to salt
and December's long
bequeathed chorus will begin
And so I will savour
these few shining seconds
a little longer.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 6:04 AM UTC
42 since I started to breathe rotting leaves under a November blizzard.
34 since I entered this body that day on the porch.
32 since I understood violence to be an accepted
part of life.
So many years I have carried this burden and I am tired, so tired.
So many sad Novembers.
But it's April now and 29 since I tasted a woman's mouth. 26 since I discovered how it felt to be inside another human, while completely inside myself.
It's April now and I crave the pale round goblets of milky skin these young flowers offer.
New rituals indeed smolder as centuries unfold.
It's only been 12 since I knew I was part of God
and 7 since I started hating us for being so close.
It was last March since I lost faith in you and I haven't stopped breathing shadows.
I am so tired, dearest.
What must I do?
It's April now, the walnut tree is black against the streetlight; the sycamores line the empty boulevard and I can smell the ghosts in the park.
These milky skies and milky thighs burn in
my skull. January has lost her way
again as everyone forgets about the poets.
It's the poets that get them through a grey December.
We all share the same air, we all breathe
each other.
There is a lone willow tree, in the cradle of the park, bearing your divine name, which can be heard whispered by the ghosts who wander
on this lonely reservoir.
I am pining for dried tea bags and empty dresses as long summer nights bring insects and revelations.
I am your stone gargoyle.
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
Days turn to weeks,
and months into years;
Our calendar filled,
With days that bring tears.
No longer with cheer,
There’s a birthday we keep;
A life sown in hardship,
Is now reaping grief.
His anniversary of leaving,
A dark smear on that day;
Its nothing to celebrate,
But it won't wash away.
Those days that we’re honored,
As his mother and father;
Special cards that he made us,
We receive them no longer.
A day for memorials,
Then picnics and parades,
The summer he loved,
A special hike on Labor Day.
The season to give thanks,
Forces us to remember,
All the years that we did have,
All those happy Novembers.
Finally Christmas comes round,
Full of time spent together;
All our family traditions,
Where he's missed more than ever.
Each day a reminder,
Every memory so dear,
Yet silence speaks loudly,
When laughter disappears.
Then it's time to repeat,
Time to turn a new page,
Time for new resolutions,
Time to hope for some change.
Maybe this is the year,
That the calendar’s our friend,
When peace is returned,
And we look forward again.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC
"Oh November, Oh November! Death, Hath In Cold Crimpson's Knashed!"..."Sweet, Sweet, November! Dressed, Hath Your Sons In Robed Black!"
"Your Wondrous Tales, Of My Moment Seemed, Thwarted!"..."Your Solemn Heat, Of The Summer Did Bring, Lament!"
"Of No Goose, Of No Goose, Flee, Shall Of Your Fogless Cloud Be Found!"..."Of No Grave, Of No Grave, Leech, Would Of Your Sanctuary Lay Ground!"
"And Somber Somber Days, Hath Us, Oh, Of Darker Times And No Brighter Rays, To See!"
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
Narcotic
Overdose
Vicious
Extremity
Mastered
Bewildered
Eccentric
Retrospective
My Birth
My Autumn
My Death
Number Nine
Novembers Night
Never Nepotism
Nocturnal Neatness
No Negligence
Neptune's Near
My Fall
My Existence
My Anatomy
My Reincarnation
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
I'm heaving prose at you and you don't even know it. Like fish jumping into a boat that's empty. Having risen before, being brave would seem easier, lighter maybe. Like great fluff or a fugue of an earthy red wine. My tear ducts are hollow drums, if I could I'd give you a metaphor about weeping, but I'm wept out and worn out. I'm not tired or worn down. I'm an obelisk, or a saber perhaps. I'm good coffee from a specialty roaster, but I come in a to go cup. Coffee should never be consumed from a to go cup.
You're one of those pennies people pay one dollar and one cent for, stretched out with new print on them. At the zoo they can be bought. At places where the middle class can be classless they can be bought.
You were once a starlet. A golden and imperfect deity. I'm still worshipping you. You're my startling ****** but the rigging is busted. Now I'm onto acid washes and back on ivory. Maybe you didn't mean to leave cue cards and question marks like keepsake memories under our bedroom duvet.
I'm only asking for you.
While I **** around each new city in the jargon of a Calder sculpture. I've punched door mice and killed rattle snakes with the heel of my foot. Step on with the right and bring your fingers to your lips. I've been calling good luck for decades now. Julys Septembers and Novembers too.
Just a regular guy with a big ******* rooster.
Some girl said we're swimming for each other in the dark, but I know your eyes have adjusted to the light. Don't compensate for ordinary experiences. Realize what I realize and taste the snow.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 2:25 AM UTC
Do you feel it
Its the feeling
That you get
When there's nothing left
No distractions
No messages to check
No cigarettes
Real self is glaring back
Hi hey its me
Do you like what you see?
If not
change direction
Find what you need
The path can get rocky and dark
But every breath
Can be a fresh start
To begin again
Ego deleting
Humans - misleading,
Is there a way out of
Escaping
Waiting
Playing
I'm Breaking
The soul is aching
Knowing i cant keep replacing
Generations running from
the University of Feeling.
But, Dna remembers
The embers
from those cold Novembers
Flown away -
ash to dust
What's done is done
do everything with love,
And don't forget
the ones up above
As we are one.
Blessed be the
Music makers
The creators
The soul achers
Shedding their layers,
Bleed in
Bleed out
Returning the energy to origin
Breathe it in
Breathe it out
The Stagnant air
can get left there,
On the page that i wrote,
Because of the way that you spoke.
Its not the first bad note,
Here comes another ****
the ones that can let go of their pain
The ones that can cry out their rain
Transmuting,
Not always soothing
It stings
its saddening
Its beautifully shedding
From All that's been embedding
Ancestral healing
Will set you free
from the pain
Of your lineages chain.
I'm tired of walking in the rain.
Cycles will not repeat, again.
The wise one
Puts the stop here.
"If not you,
Then who?
If not now,
then When"
Waiting isnt wise,
Youll get left behind
A step essential to take,
To not have inherited infliction
stored in the skin
Remembered through the dna
Sometimes we just can't consciously trace.
But the unconscious
Stores all of our ancestors names
They live through us
We feel their pain
So it must
Take a chosen one
To finally pave
a new way.
Erase
The heartbreak
The envy
and the i wish it could bes.
Break the cycle
of holding
You must heal
all that's been shoved down
And replaced with a drug you found.
Choose you.
Choose now.
Write it
Yell it
Paint it
Feel it
And let it go.
Step into the clear air
You did it
You repaired
Breathe in the fresh air
Remember how you got here
---------- -- ---- -- ---- -- --- -- --
Jul 29, 2024
Jul 29, 2024 at 7:40 AM UTC
It is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
And waltzes with her prince, The Fall Wind.
But when the clock strikes twelve,
Winter comes along with her December and January Winds,
Snatching up Autumn’s bright apparel
And clothing her in nothing but somber tatters.
Autumn keeps quiet, until the first rays
Of Spring’s long awaited sunshine
Touches the depths of Winter’s dark dungeon.
Autumn is showered with Spring’s rain,
And is coaxed into fashioning a new dress
With the same warm, golden tones of color,
But, this time, in a different pattern.
It is Summer’s sunshine, now, that assists Autumn,
With an occasional July thunderstorm to help form the new dress.
August passes by to give his opinion, and Autumn is finally ready.
For it is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
to waltz with her prince, The Fall Wind.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC
the wind is taking more drags off my cigarette than I am. that's buffalo;
wind&concrete;&cold.;
I won't let you crawl into the gutters,
and die in the snow.
in the alleys of these long lost streets,
we keep trying to revive.
and I ask myself
if you'd let me fall asleep out in the cold,
six shots down & I don't want to know.
I'm still walking on my own,
against the cold, and keeping warm.
I'm taking good care of myself,
now that I know you won't do it for me.
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
You are
The first delicate ray of sunshine
On a dreary Novembers’ day
You are
The pounding rush of adrenaline
Felt at a concert barrier
You are
The reassuring smile
Treasured in the midst of calamity
You are
The warm woollen blanket
Wrapped round my shoulders at night
You are
The butterflies found inside me
At the peak of a roller coaster
You are
The first birdsong
At the end of a sleepless night
You are
Every beauty in this world
To me.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
Moon callings spirited animals
wolves dancing
Dunhuang lute guitar -
playing to the soul of
a western screech owl
feasting on prey - long tailed shrew.
Gaspé mountains sheltered selves
under moonlight the coven amass
crisp autumn leaves, frost bitten toes
North standing
Novembers Mourning Moon.
Worshipping Isis -
Goddess of magic
the white tailed deer appears
shedding antlers amidst
this monthly Esbat rite.
At the alter a moon candle glowing
water bowl reflecting sisters souls,
white crystals & silver ribbons -
graced lunar symbols
to cede full renunciation.
*Gather gather as all women should,
the next Supreme is not beyond a dream.
The Witches Council meets beneath moonlight.
Tonight I light this candle,
& lift a water bowl to the night sky.
I call upon you all.
I call upon you all.
I call upon you all -
to accept the changing of your souls,
akin to the changes of the tide.
We cleanse our souls in unity.
Tonight, tonight, witches of Salem,
declare yourself...
Declare yourself!
The Supreme Witch - declare yourself.*
They fall to the cold slabs
ground, gravel, leaves, soil
silence falls.
One remains - the embodiment of all gifts
the One remains for eternal life against all ills.
The Supreme is named.
All women rise
dawn breaks
and the passing of the moon begins it's journey
passing into the suns glare -
unseen.
© Sia Jane
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
A whole new light means
your spectrum rests indeterminate
silence alone cannot disguise
the sense of foreboding,
darkness parades,
platitudes never vivid
a plinth to past glories
shorn whose rueful possibilities
shuns new growth.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
to this, i resign
and i will lie motionless,
as november nights lovingly peel my skin.
strip me down,
i am sick of feeling callouses.
i am sick of my sheets
licking all these wounds clean.
i am sick of waiting for tenderness
to grow from my open sores
so strip me down —
this is as loving as it can get.
to this, i resign —
to the mercy of lonely, november nights.
so hold me down,
a pillow on my face —
petunias in my throat:
this is as soft as i can be.
peel me open. peel me raw,
and beneath it all, perhaps, i'll stumble
on something that finally
looks like home.
Nov 5, 2020
Nov 5, 2020 at 6:32 AM UTC
The fan is on, the constant hushing sound adding rhythm to the room
I can hear the hum of cars passing by outside my window
a added sense that I am not alone even though I am here by myself
Novembers cooling touch has crept in
nipping at my toes, drying my already dry pale skin
my favorite time of year when life seems to slow down, putting a glow on the usually bland days
here in my bed under the warmth of my flannel blankets all is right with my world
but my brain still finds something to bring the anxiety out
I thought if I started writing down my thoughts on paper it would lessen the night time stress
but then I stress about not writing on the nights I forget
the streetlight outside my window flashes a constant shadow on my wall
and I find comfort in that
something about the added light on my wall is friendly, familiar
when my brain finally shuts off I fall into dreams of my past
of people I haven't seen in years, all the stories blend into one
repeating like a rerun
at least I still have dreams
even if they're only in my sleep
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
After this November will be the most dreaded month
not because it was when I lost you
but when I knew it was coming,
looming, and this time lightening wasn’t dancing
in the distance it was creating it.
Collecting moments of you
like storing food in a bomb shelter
for when I’m at war with your new
hand watch for not letting us work.
Every time the hand ticks
it is moving me closer to a time without you
and everyday is watching the hourglass of us run out.
Despite this, if I could live with you
in a calendar filled with Novembers, I would.
But I can’t so before you go,
will you watch 44 sunsets with me?
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
As Novembers air approaches,
I can see my skin getting paler and paler,
I can see my arms covered in goosebumps.
As its air blows my hair back,
it also blows back memories from October
reminding me that they are never flowing away.
November will never be the same without my October.
Nov 7, 2024
Nov 7, 2024 at 11:28 PM UTC
She is so orange!
Her skin is pale,
And her hair is an off-white blonde,
But she...
Oh man, is she orange.
I smell the falling leaves through her smile,
And I can feel the carving tools sawing through pumpkin rinds,
Drawing Autumn sketches,
Doing what artists will do at this point in the year,
As If they were my own hands.
She will shout from the rooftops
With her yellow words
About her seasonal excitement,
Ending each proclamation with red exclamation marks.
She will shower me in plans
For Octobers and Novembers to come.
Walking me through festivals and unmade memories
With each new idea.
She is orange,
And for the next few months
Orange is my favorite colour.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
She left with the leaves,
blown away by the October wind;
She left on a warm night with the full moon.
Days before, she stood at the door, silently, silhouetted against the bright sun;
saying goodbye to the light, goodbye to the world.
What about the visits not made, the places not seen?
- no matter;
No more winters to endure;
No more Novembers to wait through.
She left with October, before the cold winds blew the world gray;
She left with the yellow leaves, free to fly away.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 5:48 PM UTC
**Nobody remembers but he won't forget
so many Novembers that he can't regret
and the few Decembers that they managed to get
to light burning embers ,fond memories till date**
*Camping as only two members, night fires till late
Watching stars twinkle, eyes travelling interstellar
the great fables and love stories he used to tell her
drunk from sweet wines he coveted for his dream cellar
when he narrated inspirationals of guys like Rockefeller
and she convinced him he'd someday write a bestseller*
**The daily stroll especially in twilight
crazy dances right in the moonlight
the color and florets during any date night
the mourns of pleasure after star gazing till midnight
the promises of for better and for plight**
*Nobody remembers but he won't forget
so many Novembers that he can't regret
and the few Decembers that they managed to get
to light burning embers, fond memories till date*
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 11:54 AM UTC
she likes a little bitterness in her food
a little hunger in her kisses
a little sweetness in her tears
a little irony in her wishes
give her flowers in the street
and post Novembers on her walls
write her playlists to sleep to
and run with her when rain falls
walk the long road with her
as cruel as it may be
she will warm you to her very last--
if you would share her story.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
It's been a year and the streets are a little brighter, and daybreaks are a little colder, and everyone seems a little happier. But forgetting has become way harder and longer, darling, and Novembers still feel like losing you.
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 5:11 AM UTC
Do you ever get a sadness// that weighs down on your soul;
a prodigious burden that makes bright eyes dark and dull?
It yanks up on your heartstrings// and slices at your heels
When you pray for something, anything/ /that will really make you feel.
I get the feeling often// and wait for it to pass,
but it's in the cargo of this ship and I’m clawing up the mast.
It can feel like an ocean// and I’m stranded on a raft,
These planes fly high above me// but my hope's deflating fast.
Lord, give me strength and courage// to make it through this year
Be the loving Father// that dries my bitter tears
Spare me some of your forgiveness// for my sinful frame of mind
Spare the key to perseverance// I've desperately failed to find
Oh, that I could see you! and feel your knowing eyes.
Oh, if I could just hear you// I’d set my other gods to fire.
For I’ve seen twenty long Novembers// but none as dark as this
So many times I glimpsed the mark// but shot and always missed.
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC