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Already the month
     of August 2018,
     May never become
     a je June'm
     time of year,
especially for nouveau
     homeless and,

     penniless residents,
     (now more like worrier),
     who reside in the
     (burnt to a crisp)
     Golden State where,
towering uncontrollable
     wild fire infernos veer
really did tax mental,

     physical, and spiritual
     oye vey iz mare (to
     the bajillion power
     of Google Plex) their
heirlooms, mementos,
     and trappings of
     das kapital lifestyle
     went up in smoke,

     which tragedy didst seer
the eyes (yes, iz traumatic,
     but also the air)
     looms with toxic
     particulate matter,
     though concerned former
     propertied owners
     (now ashen faced)

     as utter grief doth rear
a scorched (bumping) ugly head,
     yet the onset of Autumn,
     (and the main
purport of this poem)
     (oh my dog, that twill be
     in approximately three weeks,
when Eastern Orthodox Church

     denotes beginning of ecclesiastical
     annum mull house
     for straight or queer
(these times opening
     doors to LGBT, or GLBT
     (an initialism that
     stands for lesbian,
     gay, bisexual, and transgender),

     nonetheless history
     replete with app pear
chock full of factoids such as:
     September (Latin septem,
     "seven") with near
exhaustive steeped in
     pagan glory of antiquity.

Ancient Roman observances
for September include:
Ludi Romani, originally celebrated
September 12 - September 14,

later extended to
September 5 to September 19.
In 1st century BC, an extra day added
in honor of deified
Julius Caesar on 4 September.

Epulum Jovis held: September 13.
Ludi Triumphales held: September 18–22.
Septimontium celebrated September, and
December 11 on later calendars

September called "harvest month"
in Charlemagne's calendar.
September corresponds partly to
Fructidor and partly to Vendémiaire

of first French republic.
On Usenet, September 1993
(Eternal September) never ended.
September called Herbstmonat,
harvest month, in Switzerland.

The Anglo-Saxons called
month Gerstmonath,
barley month, that crop
then usually harvested.
Jasmine Flower Oct 2014
September 1st, 2001.
I woke up to that same annoying alarm clock, 7:03 AM
Morning shower, morning coffee, morning breakfast –
I changed the calendar but I dropped the tack to hold it up.

September 2nd.
I’m thinking about October,
All the trees ablaze with orange and red, pumpkin pie in the season, cinnamon tingling in the air.
The new Spirit Halloween store opened up around the block. Superhero costumes are pretty cool.

September 3rd.
My mom takes me out to dinner because it’s Monday.

September 4th.

September 5th.

September 6th
In calculus, 11 is my favorite number.

September 7th.

September 8th.

September 9th.
My routine staccato.
Taxis responds after 3 calls,
My favorite professor gave me a hard time,
I wanna go home.
After the hustle of ants we call people,
loud street venders,
that creepy guy on the street corner,
NO, I do not want to try your new raspberry cheesecake Jack In The Box, I just wanna get my **** food and go home.
I arrive and melt into my sofa, falling asleep to the news.

September 10th.
No alarm clocks.
In the evening, my mom and I go out to dinner because today is Monday.
Red Lobster has the BEST seafood and while we’re eating,
she complains about the air conditioning in her new work place.
She works for some business in the twin towers.

September 11th, 2001
Instead of the alarm, sirens wake me.
I find the tack to hold up my calendar. – It’s Tuesday.
My feet, cold and lifeless, wander around the house until they trip over the scent of smoke.
Those sirens must’ve stopped nearby.
My mom is at work.
I want to get some air,
so I grab the keys off my splintered champagne desk,
****** them into ignition,
fingers wrapping around cruise control,
shifting into reverse,
the monotone GPS lady telling me to turn left.

The smoke is denser.
I follow her voice: turn right.
The smoke is solid.
Keep straight.
The smoke is suffocating.
In 3 hundred feet, turn left
The smoke is the sky –
Charlie Chapman gray.

My mom was at work.
Around me were firetrucks sparking with blinding flashes that screamed the word “emergency.”
My mom was at work.
The sight ahead was morbid. Unnerving. Disastrous.
It was like Halloween, except there were no superhero costumes, only firefighters and policemen.
My mom was at work.
The tower had holes punctured into their glass windows,
Smoke rising like leaves stemming out of the stump of skyscraper.
My mom was at work.
People like ants, fleeing, scattering, put on the mask of apocalyptic expression.
The throaty yells of “it was a plane” stuffed my eardrums
It was a plane, they said, it was a plane.
This was not routine.
My mom was at work.
The alarm woke me up.
I had my morning coffee.
It took all the synapses in my brain to deny what was right in front of me.
My senses detected telephone signals exploding with,
"I’m fine honey, don’t worry,”
Airlines confused and cramming.

I parked my car in overwhelming paralysis.
Above me, a screech of a whistle filled what was left of the air,
Followed by a boom that replicated my heart.
Frozen. Milliseconds frozen.
The plane was flying too low
There were people in those towers,
Everything was an epiphany --
Marriages, birthdays, fathers, sons, mothers, daughters,
Now cadaverous bodies antigravitating in rubble of boring office walls, family pictures.
Death in one swift move of terror.

My mom was at work.
We went to dinner yesterday.
My mom was at work.
The seafood tasted amazing.
My mom was at work.
She complained about the air conditioning.
My mom was at work.
She got a new job in the twin towers.
The twin towers are ablaze
The twin towers are spilling orange and red
They are sending ashes tingling through the air
This was not the October I asked for.
I longed for September 1st
I dropped the tack to hold up my calendar.

It’s Wednesday.
September 12th, 2001.
I did not sleep.
The news kept me awake, kept saying terrorist attack, terrorist attack, identified bodies, many mourning.
Because of their god, they lessened faith in mine.
This was the closest the public eye were to see a warzone-
Text messages cluttered with sympathy.
My routine changed for the rest of my life.

10 years later
Alarm clocks ringing, 7:03AM I stay in bed.
It’s Monday. I do not go out to dinner.
Instead, I drive 5 miles out to the cemetery.
People are still ants, pushing and shoving to where they need to go, they walk as if they had forgotten.
I no longer crave the red and orange of fall, cinnamon is foreign to my senses.
I hate the number 11 because it’s etched on your gravestone.
Your gravestone – gray and dense like the smoke
I wish they were not a constant reminder of the future I live in, but you don’t.
Today, there are no exclaiming yells of people or screeching whistles of planes.
Today there is only silence.

There is only silence.
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

September 16th 2018 1:34 pm

The war started between the illegible instructions and chunks of wood. I decided to enlist, well, more like volunteered. I arrived at the camp today and met a few loose screws. They don’t have time to train us, we are being shipped out as I write this in my journal.
I hope to god I survive this thing so I can see her face at the end. She will be ecstatic to see me alive, I know she has her doubts. We can not let the engrish win.

September 16th 2018 3:17 pm

We have arrived to our camp. It’s a pigsty. Styrofoam specks cover the yard like snow and cardboard chunks are blown to bits just over the trenches. No time to settle in. Just enough to down a cup of dirt coffee before we charge in. It’s been storming all day, everything is covered in mud.

September 16th 2018 3:56 pm

Stage one has been complete. We have a wall up. This should help stabilize anything that comes after us. It was no easy task and we have been told this was the easiest part.

September 16th 2018 4:32 pm

The foundation has been completed. There were casualties. Henry, a brave man, lost a hand and had to be evacuated. We can hold them back if our aim is true. I hope there are angels watching above.

September 16th 2018 4:33 pm

There are no angels watching, only devils in the disguise of pictures with the number on the wrong side and the finished side flipped around. The foundation had to come down. Back at square one.

September 16th 2018 5:56 pm

The foundation has been rebuilt. Correctly, I hope. More men have been lost. I know this is dark, but one had a flask on his body that hasn’t been emptied. It is now emptied.

September 16th 2018 6:29 pm

The wheels have finally been installed. We are now mobile! Thank god. We can now trek over anything that gets in our way. It’s still pouring rain. I wish I could find another flask.

September 16th 2018 6:53 pm

Hooks and roll and top have all been fitted and examined over. We may have done something right for once. There’s hope that we will win this thing after all.

September 16th 2018 8:48 pm

We stumbled onto a cache of cold ones. We lost sight of our goal for a while. We are back on track marching forward.

September 16th 2018 9:17 pm

The last wooden peg has been hammered in, the last ***** has been ******* and locked. This is it, it’s finally over. We won!

September 16th 2018 9:18 pm

“It’s about time” was my only reward.

It’s ok, I came out stronger than what I was. I have scars I can tell my kids about. The blisters from using hand tools and the knowledge on how to decipher Chinese disguised as English. Useful talents I’m sure.

September 16th 2018 9:20 pm

Finishing off that cache.
Today I put together a cabinet island.
Mike Hauser Jun 2013
The coolness of the mornings
The month of love and bliss
Starting with two lovers
And that one September kiss

The month we found each other
When September held us tight
It would be you and me forever
We told that cool September night

Married in the middle of September
Could there be any other day
Yes I do and yes I will
From that moment forward I would say

Need I mention what month it was
When we were blessed with our first child
Or how the September moon was beaming
Like the both of us with smiles

September has always been the month
Of love or so it seems
Till the day my life was crucified
Along with September's dreams

Did I hold our love to tightly
Was that what caused yours to slip away
To another less deserving
Causing this September pain

You were my life, my love, my shelter
My all on any given day
Now all I do, I do without you
In the cold September rain
This was a contest on another poet site I'm on using September in the title and how you were done wrong by a lover....
Pure most of my stuff.
All except the animal poems...those are all true.
Wait a minute there's that that ones true too!
Jaimee Michelle Jun 2013
It's Saturday June 15th 2013
It's been 9 long, dragging months since you left my sight
I still can feel your arms wrapped around me tight as I cried goodbye with my head pressed against your chest
The way you squeezed me tighter
And kissed me on the top of my head, while holding my hand
I see can see bright as crystals the tears dwelling in your eyes too
I bet you didn't realize it might be hard for you too?

It's been 5 agonizing months since she moved in with you
And the choice you seemed to be battling with had been made
You'd only missed a week here and there of your regular late night phone calls
But by this time, I couldn't remember the last time my phone rang and your voice was on the other end
She just swept in and with a snap of her fingers everything changed
Your demeanor towards didn't just go cold, from 5,000 miles away I felt frost bite
She wanted you to cut all ties with me
And you did

It's been a year and two months since we met
This time last year we were always wrapped up in each other
It wasn't just a spark, it was a fire
And as loud as my insecurities were, I guess you never heard the bliss I was in being with you
You were different
And everyone says that, but you truly were a turn around from where I'd been
A breath of fresh air with strong arms to hold me
A chest for a pillow at night
The sun the chased all the dark away
Our hands always seemed to fit so comfortably together
I was in such awe of you... That's probably why I didn't see the fiery ambers falling from the sky
Or the icy water you'd tossed on our once out of no where but beautiful fire had once been
You'd already moved on before you moved out and blind sighted me with goodbye

It's been a one of the hardest years of my life
When you came into my life, everything changed and for the better
All my bets were on us
I still haven't recovered from that devastating loss
My life crumbled and things that once made sense didn't
And you were all around me even though you'd disappeared
I left, ran as far as I could
But, I coulda done a lap around the earth and these feelings of rejection, confusion, emptiness and nothingness would just have been waiting
Without you in my life nothing felt right
I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what to say
I'd had no time to prepare
So I just decided I'd have to cut every single tie that we had
Seeing you and not seeing that blazing fire in your eyes... It was too heartbreaking
So I told you "if its over, it's over. We don't speak or see each other anymore"
But of course, you had another plan

It's been a year since things slowly began to change
And "I'm sorry" with the follow of the same mistake pushed you further away from me
Don't you get I was just afraid of losing you?
My heart had never beat like this before
But, it was what it was.... Or was it?
The second I tried to excuse myself from your life
You lost it. Begged relentlessly for me to stay
You didn't want me out of your life, much less out of arms reach
Pathetically I clung to what was left of you that was mine
Constantly waiting for your love to return to me
But you were so back and forth
One day, you'd cuddle with me on the couch, kiss me and play with my hair
Then vanish outta sight for a day or two after
Remember that choice that ultimately you made much later?
I guess that's what you spent the rest of the summer doing
You spent most of your days and nights with me
We still went out together
Ran errands together
Slept in the same bed at night
And I never had to beg or twist those arms of yours to get you near me
A heart isn't unbroken unless its whole again
And my heart hasn't been whole in 10 months
Seeing you was just letting me sink deeper
And as I sunk, you'd go spend the night at her house
I'd get so jealous
But, I allowed the situation to continue

It's been a year and two months since everything in my life got turned upside down
And at the time... I just wasn't ready for all the sudden changes and feelings swirling around in my head
Why wouldn't you just let me go?
Why did you need me in your life for so badly, if your heart had been lead astray
That question will haunt me until my dying day
My broken heart
All the little shattered pieces.... They belong to you
But, you are ignorant or just cruel with the way you enjoy having the power
The girl in the background who might be different come this September
I've been waiting... Hoping and dreaming of you being mine again
I've tormented my own heart while you play house with her
Well you let her call the shots
Even if that meant leaving the person most important and close to you, whimpering in the dust and fog of yesterday

It's been almost a year since you said you needed to be free
That "it just wasn't working"
When a month prior to that, you couldn't seem to get enough of me
The one who accepted you for you and never asked you to change a thing
So I tried to do all the changing, even if I was faking it, I just wanted to be whoever caught your heart in the first place
If I ever had it at all
You had strong words when forced to prove yourself, but with so many opposing actions
There was just a trust that was gone
And that made you just like them
And that brought me to my knees, to weak to run away, but far from delusional
They say you've never experienced love until you've truly mourned from it
Everyday and night without you were timeless
And as if I'd never catch my breath again
Or see the sun
So I must love you
Because I still miss you
I still cry when something makes me think of us
I've still been silently waiting for you to come home with open arms
And I'd be just that foolish to fall right into them
The pain literally had consumed me
I was so broken, I didn't have a clue as to where to start putting myself together again
I might not be perfect, but my darling, neither are you
And no one else has my eyes
The eyes that would memorize you sometimes and I'd get away with whatever I wanted
But, it was small silly stuff
You always laughed about how there was no one quite like me
And how much you liked the fact that I just accepted you, flaws and all and I never demanded you change a thing
To me you were perfect just the way you were
And I fit too perfectly in your arms

In September it'll be a year since you've seen me
Since I cried myself to sleep the night you left
I can't keep going back there
My heart rebreaks every single time
Everywhere I go, we've been
When I sleep at night, the bed is empty where you used to lay
It's finally become too much and I need to say goodbye
But, I'm not sure you'll get to say goodbye like I did
And I'm not sure my absence will matter, since you let her so easily fill it
I can't even imagine seeing your face and I'm far from ready to handle all the emotions that are gonna take over me if I do
I'm just going to fade into the fog and drive off in the night
You may not even realize I'm gone at first, or that you're one of the reasons I had to had out onto the dark, endless road
But when you do want to see me
And you find out that I'm not waiting in the background
You'll probably be stunned... And sad
You'll miss me
I don't think you ever stopped
You just let someone talk over your thoughts
It'll be the unusually warm, sunny, windy September day that you'll realize a years gone by since you could stand close enough to touch me
And it'll be that day in September when your endless thinking begins
And you'll have to know and feel the miles between us
It'll be a years passed this September
And that day will be the day you start to wonder how we got here
Why you went there
And left me here
Then had her move there
And now you're where we said goodbye
That September day will be the day you're face to face with all our memories
And the questions you can't help but ask yourself over&ove;;
That day since a year we'd said goodbye
Will be the day it finally all hits you and you just want back what you lost
That's the day you'll have to decide if its worth searching for
And you'll have to come find me
Because 3 months before September
I stopped waiting and I started living again
If on that day, your heartaches.... You'll make the choice to come find me
If not, that day in September it'll been a year since we'd seen each other
And everything changed
Sorry, it's a little long but I had a lot to get out, somewhat just to dose myself with reality. Although, a part of my heart always hopes he finds me.....
dulcetheart Sep 2013
september september
summer is over
the days and nights
are getting ever so colder
school bells are ringing
the wasps have stopped stinging
september september
autumn is coming
the leaves will fall
soon will follow
but for now
we are stuck in
september september
Madeline Nov 2012
I remember you, in the night last September.
It was cold, and you tasted
of the alochol we had illegally sipped
Smiling at each other over gem-rimmed bottles

I remember when we kissed, for the first time
That night in September
And it warmed me to my bones, and I could have stayed there
with you

I remember your hands, last September
Touching the burning skin of my cheek, hooked in the belt loops
of my faded blue jeans.
I remember your eyes,
How they found the brightest star in that starry, starry sky,
And how your voice, whispered,
"That one's ours."
Your fingers fluttered at the hollows of my hips,
because you'd given me your jacket, and you
were freezing.

I remember you last September.
I knew you last September,
And I wish I had known myself.

I remember how it ended, when it ended,
That morning last September, so soon
after it began, "I've been thinking..."
And I remember, last September

hating you.
Star Gazer Mar 2016
I used to be a sweet heart
I used to be all right
I tell myself I love you
But I'm creeping every night
When I met you at the party
And I told you you were pretty
I was honestly just trying to score
But you made me wait a week
Just to kiss you on the cheek
Now it's breaking my heart to break yours

I said I love you in the summer
But will I love you in the fall?
I thought I wasn't like the others
Guess I'm an ******* after all
Come September I'll be gone, gone, gone
Come September I'll be gone, gone, gone

I used to be a good guy
I used to be all right
I tell myself I love you
But I'm creeping every night
When I met you at the party
And I told you you were pretty
I was honestly just trying to score

I said I love you in the summer
But will I love you in the fall?
I thought I wasn't like the others
Guess I'm an ******* after all
Come September I'll be gone, gone, gone
Come September I'll be gone, gone, gone
Whoa whoa, whoa whoa, gone, gone, gone
Come September I'll be gone, gone, gone

I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel bad
I've been trying but I just can't get to feel bad
When did I become one, one, one of the bad guys?

I said I love you in the summer
I love you in the summer
But will I love you in the fall?
I lo-lo-love you in the fall
I thought I wasn't like the others
I wasn't like the others
Guess I'm an ******* after all
Come September I'll be gone, gone, gone
Come September I'll be gone, gone, gone
Whoa whoa, whoa whoa, gone, gone, gone
You gon' miss me when I'm gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone In September - Mike Posner

I do not own any part of the song.
Natasha Aug 2020
I met you in September
When the leaves were just tempted to change
I met you in September
When the earth felt like autumn in the rain
I met you in September
3 months shy of my birthday
I met you in September
apart from headache or drama
I met you in September
listening to Frank, Kendrick and Lana.

I met you in September
and so I say it clear
I only met you in September
because it's my favourite month of the year.
I met someone, but not in September. It was actually in July 2 years ago.

Boys.            Girls.
  January.                February.
  March.                  April.
  July.                   May.
  August.                 June.
  October.                September.
  December.               November.

  Robin Redbreasts; Lambs and Sheep; Nightingale and

  Various Flowers, Fruits, etc.

  Scene: A Cottage with its Grounds.

[A room in a large comfortable cottage; a fire burning on
the hearth; a table on which the breakfast things have
been left standing. January discovered seated by the


Cold the day and cold the drifted snow,
Dim the day until the cold dark night.

                    [Stirs the fire.

Crackle, sparkle, *****; embers glow:
Some one may be plodding through the snow
Longing for a light,
For the light that you and I can show.
If no one else should come,
Here Robin Redbreast's welcome to a crumb,
And never troublesome:
Robin, why don't you come and fetch your crumb?

  Here's butter for my hunch of bread,
    And sugar for your crumb;
  Here's room upon the hearthrug,
    If you'll only come.

  In your scarlet waistcoat,
    With your keen bright eye,
  Where are you loitering?
    Wings were made to fly!

  Make haste to breakfast,
    Come and fetch your crumb,
  For I'm as glad to see you
    As you are glad to come.

[Two Robin Redbreasts are seen tapping with their beaks at
the lattice, which January opens. The birds flutter in,
hop about the floor, and peck up the crumbs and sugar
thrown to them. They have scarcely finished their meal,
when a knock is heard at the door. January hangs a
guard in front of the fire, and opens to February, who
appears with a bunch of snowdrops in her hand.]


Good-morrow, sister.


            Brother, joy to you!
I've brought some snowdrops; only just a few,
But quite enough to prove the world awake,
Cheerful and hopeful in the frosty dew
And for the pale sun's sake.

[She hands a few of her snowdrops to January, who retires
into the background. While February stands arranging
the remaining snowdrops in a glass of water on the
window-sill, a soft butting and bleating are heard outside.
She opens the door, and sees one foremost lamb, with
other sheep and lambs bleating and crowding towards


O you, you little wonder, come--come in,
You wonderful, you woolly soft white lamb:
You panting mother ewe, come too,
And lead that tottering twin
Safe in:
Bring all your bleating kith and kin,
Except the ***** ram.

[February opens a second door in the background, and the
little flock files through into a warm and sheltered compartment
out of sight.]

  The lambkin tottering in its walk
    With just a fleece to wear;
  The snowdrop drooping on its stalk
      So slender,--
  Snowdrop and lamb, a pretty pair,
  Braving the cold for our delight,
      Both white,
      Both tender.

[A rattling of doors and windows; branches seen without,
tossing violently to and fro.]

How the doors rattle, and the branches sway!
Here's brother March comes whirling on his way
With winds that eddy and sing.

[She turns the handle of the door, which bursts open, and
discloses March hastening up, both hands full of violets
and anemones.]


Come, show me what you bring;
For I have said my say, fulfilled my day,
And must away.


[Stopping short on the threshold.]

    I blow an arouse
    Through the world's wide house
  To quicken the torpid earth:
    Grappling I fling
    Each feeble thing,
  But bring strong life to the birth.
    I wrestle and frown,
    And topple down;
  I wrench, I rend, I uproot;
    Yet the violet
    Is born where I set
  The sole of my flying foot,

[Hands violets and anemones to February, who retires into
the background.]

    And in my wake
    Frail wind-flowers quake,
  And the catkins promise fruit.
    I drive ocean ashore
    With rush and roar,
  And he cannot say me nay:
    My harpstrings all
    Are the forests tall,
  Making music when I play.
    And as others perforce,
    So I on my course
  Run and needs must run,
    With sap on the mount
    And buds past count
  And rivers and clouds and sun,
    With seasons and breath
    And time and death
  And all that has yet begun.

[Before March has done speaking, a voice is heard approaching
accompanied by a twittering of birds. April comes
along singing, and stands outside and out of sight to finish
her song.]



  Pretty little three
  Sparrows in a tree,
    Light upon the wing;
    Though you cannot sing
    You can chirp of Spring:
  Chirp of Spring to me,
  Sparrows, from your tree.

  Never mind the showers,
  Chirp about the flowers
    While you build a nest:
    Straws from east and west,
    Feathers from your breast,
  Make the snuggest bowers
  In a world of flowers.

  You must dart away
  From the chosen spray,
    You intrusive third
    Extra little bird;
    Join the unwedded herd!
  These have done with play,
  And must work to-day.


[Appearing at the open door.]

Good-morrow and good-bye: if others fly,
Of all the flying months you're the most flying.


You're hope and sweetness, April.


            Birth means dying,
As wings and wind mean flying;
So you and I and all things fly or die;
And sometimes I sit sighing to think of dying.
But meanwhile I've a rainbow in my showers,
And a lapful of flowers,
And these dear nestlings aged three hours;
And here's their mother sitting,
Their father's merely flitting
To find their breakfast somewhere in my bowers.

[As she speaks April shows March her apron full of flowers
and nest full of birds. March wanders away into the
grounds. April, without entering the cottage, hangs over
the hungry nestlings watching them.]


  What beaks you have, you funny things,
    What voices shrill and weak;
  Who'd think that anything that sings
    Could sing through such a beak?
  Yet you'll be nightingales one day,
    And charm the country-side,
  When I'm away and far away
    And May is queen and bride.

[May arrives unperceived by April, and gives her a kiss.
April starts and looks round.]


Ah May, good-morrow May, and so good-bye.


That's just your way, sweet April, smile and sigh:
Your sorrow's half in fun,
Begun and done
And turned to joy while twenty seconds run.
I've gathered flowers all as I came along,
At every step a flower
Fed by your last bright shower,--

[She divides an armful of all sorts of flowers with April, who
strolls away through the garden.]


And gathering flowers I listened to the song
Of every bird in bower.
    The world and I are far too full of bliss
    To think or plan or toil or care;
      The sun is waxing strong,
      The days are waxing long,
        And all that is,
          Is fair.

    Here are my buds of lily and of rose,
    And here's my namesake-blossom, may;
      And from a watery spot
      See here forget-me-not,
        With all that blows

    Hark to my linnets from the hedges green,
    Blackbird and lark and thrush and dove,
      And every nightingale
      And cuckoo tells its tale,
        And all they mean
          Is love.

[June appears at the further end of the garden, coming slowly
towards May, who, seeing her, exclaims]


Surely you're come too early, sister June.


Indeed I feel as if I came too soon
To round your young May moon
And set the world a-gasping at my noon.
Yet come I must. So here are strawberries
Sun-flushed and sweet, as many as you please;
And here are full-blown roses by the score,
More roses, and yet more.

[May, eating strawberries, withdraws among the flower beds.]


The sun does all my long day's work for me,
  Raises and ripens everything;
I need but sit beneath a leafy tree
    And watch and sing.

[Seats herself in the shadow of a laburnum.

Or if I'm lulled by note of bird and bee,
  Or lulled by noontide's silence deep,
I need but nestle down beneath my tree
    And drop asleep.

[June falls asleep; and is not awakened by the voice of July,
who behind the scenes is heard half singing, half calling.]


     [Behind the scenes.]

Blue flags, yellow flags, flags all freckled,
Which will you take? yellow, blue, speckled!
Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow,
Each in its way has not a fellow.

[Enter July, a basket of many-colored irises slung upon his
shoulders, a bunch of ripe grass in one hand, and a plate
piled full of peaches balanced upon the other. He steals
up to June, and tickles her with the grass. She wakes.]


What, here already?


                  Nay, my tryst is kept;
The longest day slipped by you while you slept.
I've brought you one curved pyramid of bloom,

                        [Hands her the plate.

Not flowers, but peaches, gathered where the bees,
As downy, bask and boom
In sunshine and in gloom of trees.
But get you in, a storm is at my heels;
The whirlwind whistles and wheels,
Lightning flashes and thunder peals,
Flying and following hard upon my heels.

[June takes shelter in a thickly-woven arbor.]


  The roar of a storm sweeps up
    From the east to the lurid west,
  The darkening sky, like a cup,
    Is filled with rain to the brink;

  The sky is purple and fire,
    Blackness and noise and unrest;
  The earth, parched with desire,
      Opens her mouth to drink.

  Send forth thy thunder and fire,
    Turn over thy brimming cup,
  O sky, appease the desire
    Of earth in her parched unrest;
  Pour out drink to her thirst,
    Her famishing life lift up;
  Make thyself fair as at first,
      With a rainbow for thy crest.

  Have done with thunder and fire,
    O sky with the rainbow crest;
  O earth, have done with desire,
    Drink, and drink deep, and rest.

[Enter August, carrying a sheaf made up of different kinds of


Hail, brother August, flushed and warm
And scatheless from my storm.
Your hands are full of corn, I see,
As full as hands can be:

And earth and air both smell as sweet as balm
In their recovered calm,
And that they owe to me.

[July retires into a shrubbery.]


  Wheat sways heavy, oats are airy,
    Barley bows a graceful head,
  Short and small shoots up canary,
    Each of these is some one's bread;
  Bread for man or bread for beast,
      Or at very least
      A bird's savory feast.

  Men are brethren of each other,
    One in flesh and one in food;
  And a sort of foster brother
    Is the litter, or the brood,
  Of that folk in fur or feather,
      Who, with men together,
      Breast the wind and weather.

[August descries September toiling across the lawn.]


My harvest home is ended; and I spy
September drawing nigh
With the first thought of Autumn in her eye,
And the first sigh
Of Autumn wind among her locks that fly.

[September arrives, carrying upon her head a basket heaped
high with fruit]


Unload me, brother. I have brought a few
Plums and these pears for you,
A dozen kinds of apples, one or two
Melons, some figs all bursting through
Their skins, and pearled with dew
These damsons violet-blue.

[While September is speaking, August lifts the basket to the
ground, selects various fruits, and withdraws slowly along
the gravel walk, eating a pear as he goes.]

David Lessard Sep 2018
September's child is special
born in autumn's gold;
brother to the pumpkin
sister to the cold.

September's child is lovely
the heart's in the right place;
born in the changing leaves
adorned with God's own grace.

September's child is full of love
for family and for friends;
granting each an honored spot
with love that never ends.

September's child is filled with life
for enjoying nature's touch;
relishing the autumn rains
not too little, nor too much.

September's child is special
between the heat and cold;
graced with special beauty
graced by autumn's gold.
September was a
Porcupine kiss.
My tongue, swollen
And aching to
Spill these words
And thoughts
And feelings
On why it hurts to talk.
My lips, fat and
Speckled in ruby,
September is a jagged
Blade, rusted by
Memory and
"Why did you go?"
September tasted like
Pennies and
Smelled like morning breath.
It sounded like
Grinding teeth and
I couldn’t move for days.
September felt like

Until I saw the color,
And it was like
My eyes were brand new.
Another who could see
Them in his own way
Lifted some of the
He’s a reminder to exhale,
To appreciate the loss
Of the ones we love;
The poster child of
This type of pain.
So I breathe,
And September is here

But now September
Tastes like sweet *** and
L&M, the gemstones
Kissed from my lips.
September smells like
Warm sheets and apples,
And it sounds just
Like your laugh.
September is a
Drunken kiss and
101 "I love you’s",
And even that isn’t
Enough to express
How much it all means.
September feels like
As it should have felt.
Xilhouette Sep 2010
Oh September, September
Lovely day today aye?
As I remember...
It's today! Happy birthday!

But, year after year
I've never called anyone dear;
Year after year,
no comes near
Each year is dry,
Not one tear to cry
And; I wonder why...
Will it be this way 'till I die?

Ah September, September
Give me a smile
One that would last for a while
Ah September, Please let me remember,
that nineteenth day,
that I did my way.
Oh it's September: happy birthday!
At least for today...
Xilhouette © 2010
Sam Conrad Dec 2013
258 days,


I've typed well over 3000 words now and it's 3:30 in the morning. I'm sweating and crying. My mouth is dry as cotton. My left pinky is sore because I have arthritis from when I broke it and my wrist hurts because I think I'm developing carpal tunnel. I've been typing for hours. So, let me try this again...


We both got lost in September.
You told me literally every single day that you were unstable.

I felt like the puppet in a play where I'm supposed to be the good guy
But the play is a satire where I'm actually the worst...

I cried a lot. I didn't know what to do. Or if I could help you.
I could see it in your eyes. I could see you tremble. I saw the fear.
I think I told you sorry like 50 times one day I was over.
I saw it in your eyes how sad you were. You weren't happy.

I realized I'd ****** up
But I'm me, and that means I'll just keep ******* up the same old ****
The same old **** over and over and over...
Without realizing it until it's but a second too late.

You asked me to go to the dance with you.
Where would we be right now, if I had simply been able to say yes?
I wasn't strong enough to say yes, sweet girl.
I was broken by a conglomeration...a giant melting *** of the situation and my past.

I had a good time with you at prom the year before.
I told you I didn't. That I was freaking out.
I did have a good time. Except when I was really freaking out was this last September.
You calmed my fears and made it worthwhile.

I still can't even believe I got a girl to come with me for my senior prom.
I thank you so much for that. Even though I kind of ****** it up too.
I can't let myself take it for granted either, what I've done to you.
I know I've ****** it all up.

If I could do it over (I keep saying this over and over, I've ****** up so much)
I would have just said yes and continued to try to figure things out
How to make things better and fix the pain
So that I could be to you what I've always wanted to be for you

Except I just wasn't strong enough in September,
A recurring theme throughout the summer
Wasn't strong enough to be there for you
Wasn't strong enough to be nice to you

So many ******* excuses I made over time
But it was true...I was struggling and my life was hard
But I should have known that the best thing for you and me both
Was to face a fear, where I was afraid of something stupid

If I haven't done things directly,
I've done them indirectly, like...
If I simply wasn't in the situation, no matter what was actually in my control,
None of this **** would have happened to you

This month ended with me calling your mom out (she'd historically been quite mean to me, but how dumb was I to do it on public facebook...)
Another horrid phone call ...

...(my hands hurt too bad to write much about this one, said I all I ever did with you was **** with your head, lied to you, blew you off...)
Myself going crazy, telling you I was horrible, awful, nothing, trash...(sound familiar at all?)

And the ending of our relationship

I think I've effectively hated myself since that night
When you were in my car and I self destructed to you
The same way I remember you self destructing toward me
Except you played no part

Your mom is the one that killed me but
I'd still hug your mom to this day though...and I miss little Andrew so much...
Your mom isn't that bad. She's done a lot for you. Gone through so much...(she made it very clear to me in the phone calls, I'll never go through any kind of pain like she did...)

I don't know what to say about myself anymore except
I'm weak
I'm soft
I'm broken

They say hindsight is 20/20.
If only I'd had a time machine.

skyler molina Oct 2014
July 8th - Where am I? What is this place? Why do I remember everything & nothing all at the exact same time?

July 14th - This is a place where the dying go to; I don't understand.

July 24th - I feel this sort of pain, but it's nothing I can't handle.

August 1st - I miss my pillow the most.

August 17th - I don't know how I ended up in here. I don't know how I ended up like this.

August 20th - I was created to please, yet lived to only disappoint.

August 21st - I'm so cold. They don't have blankets in this room. Just walls.

August 22nd - Why hasn't anyone came to visit me? Why doesn't anyone care?

August 24th - I can't breathe. These walls turned into a face mask & I can feel myself slowly disintegrating.

August 28th - A cookie may be able to crumble, but I could crumble oh so much faster; & crumble I shall.

September 1st - A window appeared. But it's always raining outside of it.

September 4th - I forgot how to speak. The rain is much louder than my voice, & i'm starting to realize that's how it's always been.

September 5th - I don't remember the feeling of dry eyes. I can't tell if the moistness is actually tears or if i've just been standing by this window a little too long.

September 15th - I like to pretend that this feeling is normal.

September 16th - Everyone won't stop asking me questions about when i'm going to get released & seem to never stop wondering what's "actually wrong with me".

September 17th - Maybe I can just act like everyone else are the ones with the problems.

September 21st - I need to be alone, yet I haven't even seen anyone in what seems to be months.

September 28th - I don't know how long i've been in here, but i'm starting to feel at home.

October 2nd - I finally met my doctor. He seems like a nice man. Hopefully he can take this feeling away, whatever it is.

October 3rd - I haven't opened my eyes all day; i'm too scared to see that you're still not there.

October 5th - The doctor keeps telling me that there are no visible sign of anything being wrong, he says i'm free to go.

October 5th - I don't want to go.
Jude kyrie Sep 2016
September  Rainbow
A 9/11 Story
Jude Kyrie
Dedicated to all who lost on 9/11
September 11, 2001

As a little girl,
he sat next to me
at junior school.
I always liked him.
No  much more than that.

Later at high school
we walked home together.
He would carry my books.
At graduation,
he was my date.
We even went
to college together.

That was when
we broke the chains
of friendship and
he became my lover.
My first and only love.

We married young
it was no surprise
to our parents.
They were expecting it.

Before I knew it
we had three kids.
Two girls and a boy.
Our son looks just like him.

September 10, 2001

It was just like any other day.
He came home from work
Cooked burgers
on the backyard barbeque.

We got the kids to bed
drank a glass of wine
went to bed at ten.
He wanted to make love
but I was exhausted
the kids had
been terror's all day.

September 11,2001

The next day
he kissed me goodbye.
With a see you later honey.
I got a call from my friend
She said quickly
put on the TV.

I saw the towers fall
Turning to ashes
Like my life did
at that moment.

All I could think was
I wish I had made love
to him last night.

September 11, 2015

The children are all
grown up now.
He would be
so proud of them.

I look at my strong
handsome son.
He looks like him exactly.

We stand at ground zero
and say a prayer.
I whisper
it was always you honey
Only you.

As if by magic
he answered me
A giant beautiful rainbow.
Circled over New York City.
And I know it was for me.
My tears for all who suffered by this senseless act of violence.
Peace and Blessings
BertJane Perez Dec 2014
I cry in September because I want to restart!
Every single moment, even the ones that broke my heart
You were my all, you were my Autumn!
You were my Fall, but I think you've forgotten...

I cry in September because there's no longer an "us"!
We broke each other's hearts and broke each other's trust
I'm willing to bury all those seeds of regret
If you and me both agree that we should forget...

I cry in September, I cry each and every time!
We both know that we committed an unforgivable crime
To break this relationship is exactly like committing a ******!
We both need to understand that we both did this together...

I cry in September because this seems like the end...
I not only lost a lover, but also a friend...
I'll never forget all our moments together...
Because of you, because of us, I cry in September...
Valentine Mbagu Sep 2013
The month of perfection has come for the sons and daughters of zion to possess their possession,
with the understanding that September is a month like no other month to remember in the history of histories for those who believe in the word of the lord.
The month of fulfilment has come for the children and people of God to possess and inherit the land whereon their feet have trodden upon,
with the knowledge that September is a month like no other month to remember in the season of seasons for God's promises to be fulfilled in the lives of those that wait upon him.
The month of harvest has come for the righteous and faithful people of God to reap and enjoy the fruit of their labour,
with the awareness that September is a month like no other month to remember in the memory of memories for those who believe that the land is bountifully ripe for harvest and truely plentious for conquest.

The month of liberation has come for the captives in captivity to become captains of the captors in the land of captivity,
knowing that the Captain of captians have ascended on high and led captivity captive.
The month of visitation has come for the windows and doors of heaven to open unto them that are expectant of Divine favour, blessings and visitation,
knowing that the presence and power of God is presently present to present to those who are presently present, presents that are presents from above.
The month of dominion has come for the diligent and dedicated David's and Deborah's of this generation to dominate and have dominion over the nobles among the people and forces of the earth,
knowing that God have given us power and authority over the earth to dominate and have dominion over the high and the mighty.

The month of establishment has come for the prudent and pure ones in heart to see God undertaking and establishing his promises in their lives,
with the understanding that God is not unfaithful to forget all our labour and works of righteousness and service to his kingdom.
The month of manifestation has come for the sons and daughters of zion to be Divinely empowered for the manifestation of God's glory on earth,
with the knowledge that the earth and all that dwell in it is the lord's and the fullness thereof.

The month of remembrance has come for the book of remembrance to be opened for the obedient and commited ones to be celebrated by heaven,
with the awareness that God have separated the month of September to remember those that serve and call upon him with a pure heart.
This is September to Remember.
Darby Nov 2015
September is never my month.
My life's been at its worst every single September for the past 3 years.
Threes years ago in this month I found out we would be moving by the end of the school year away from the house I had lived in for 5 years of my life.
I was 11 when we moved.
I lived at the house for a little under half my life.
I slowly watched all of my childhood memories being shoved into boxes and taped up just to be found 10 years later in the attic of the mysterious new house we would move into and that tore me to pieces.
We moved in may and I felt okay about it but then we started school the next year in 6th grade and then September came along and he went out with the cousin I hated the most, the girl that treated me like ****, and even my best friend.
I still loved him and that ripped me to pieces.
He realized how amazing I was in February and We started dating in March that year.
It was perfect all summer.
Then September came along in 7th grade and he broke up with me on the 19th.
I didn't cry.
But I wanted to.
Oh, I wanted to so bad.
I still loved him and that tore me to pieces.
I held on to hope that he would realise he still loved me until March that year.
My cousin was born on what would have been our one year anniversary and that ruined that day for me.
I stopped waiting for him.
He came back to me as soon as I got a boyfriend in April.
We went out for awhile until I realized I didn’t love him the same.
Through all of that there was one person that was there for me and I had the slightest crush on him because I was so focused on the other boy.
I realized I loved him the summer before 8th grade.
When school started we didn't have any classes together and didn't have time to text as much as we used to.
One of my friends Told me how she saw him in the hallway and I started crying because I never saw him during the day.
September started and I decided to tell him that I liked him and he handled it okay.
It turns out that he was actually going to ask me out, but one of my closest friends gave him the whole “what if it ruins the friendship” speech and he changed his mind. He knows that I knew everything and now it's different.
Septembers a *****
and I think now I understand why Greenday wanted to sleep through it.
sorry it's so long
megan Jul 2014
september 14, 2009
10:13 pm
why is the garage door shut? i cant get in
your phone must be dead my messages wont go through

september 14, 2009
10:15 pm
i can hear the car running in the garage oh god oh god i called an ambulance butm my fingers arree shakingi you have to be okay dont

september 15, 2009
11:27 am
i opened the garage and you were sitting there with a tube running into the drivers seat and why did you ******* do this you cant you wouldnt you shouldnt this isnt real none of this is real

september 17, 2009
3:04 am
babe, i miss you
i miss you so much i cant take it

september 17, 2009
3:07 am
they havent shut down everything yet its only been three days
how has it only been three days

september 19, 2009
11:17 pm
your funeral was today (i didn’t cry)

september 29, 2009
12:23 pm
did it hurt? i need to know if i should join you but i dont want it to hurt because im scared, im too scared
im scared of the fact that ill never see you smile again
i love you. did i tell you that enough? i dont think i did

october 17, 2009
1:39 am
mayvbe ive benee drinnking a litlter morre than mnusula but yoi shouldve let me comem with hoyu becaussee youre my hnhome and evertyone think sims  insanen i just miss you msoo much comee hooome to mew

october 31, 2009
7:01 pm
its halloween and im going alone this year
why do i have to go alone

november 24, 2009
2:24 am
i had a dream that you were making me dinner and you gave me a spoonful of something tomato-y and we were laughing and dancing in the kitchen and you kissed me but your lips dissolved into paper and your skin slid off into a puddle on the floors and the walls collapsed around me but i could still hear your voice telling me everything was okay
when i woke up my lips tasted like tears and i couldnt breathe

december 2, 2009
3:36 am
you cant be dead on my birthday
last year we had a picnic in the park and drank macchiatos and you told me a story about the magician you had at your birthday party when you were seven and barely tall enough to see over the table he was doing tricks on
you cant be dead on my birthday you cant

december 24, 2009
10:17 pm
christmas eve was ****** without you
i hope its better wherever you are

december 25, 2009
9:03 pm
christmas day was also ****** without you
how do i get rid of this ******* headache

january 3, 2010
4:19 am
how do i do anything when everything we did together is laced with arsenic?
******* for taking away my favorite places
******* for taking away my favorite bands
******* for taking away everything

january 10, 2010
8:56 am
your pillow doesnt smell like you anymore

january 17, 2010
5:49 pm
this is so pathetic im still sending you messages its been months
my eyes should be dry by now

january 22, 2010
7:08 am
did you know that your mom called me crying yesterday because she found your old baseball trophy in the attic and we cried over the phone together and its the closest ive felt to you in ages and ages but it slipped away through my fingers faster than quicksand

january 25, 2010
3:45 pm
i almost took a whole bottle of pills and slit my wrists last night but you were standing above me whispering to me and i couldnt do that to you even though you did it to me first

february 4, 2010
1:01 am
was this my fault? did i do this to you? i warned you that i was broken but you pieced me back together with strands of moonlight and i wish i wouldve seen how bad you were hurting before you stepped off the edge

february 6, 2010
6:36 pm
i hate you

february 7, 2010
4:49 am
i could never hate you
you know that
my head is pounding

february 27, 2010
12:32 am
happy anniversary sweetheart
*message failed to send
recipient account terminated
Nik Bland Mar 2013
So September never came
And the wind it blew the cold
And the embers, they did fade
And so did the day, but never my hold

And the lightning split the sky
With the thunder quick at hand
And together they did tell of the time they knew well
When September did fade

But fate failed to explain
What good it would do to pass
The September when leaves fall, and the winter would call
To the summer that went away

So we waited other years
In earnest hopes that we would find
That September skipped a year, but would relinquish our fears
But never the hold

And so hope did fade away
With a modest, short goodbye
And though September never came, what still kept the same
Was the embers in our hold
Alex Sep 2017
September 13, 2000.

The day you took your first breath.
The day you took your last breath.

September 13, 2000.

The day Katherine Lynn was born.
The day Katherine Lynn died.

September 13, 2000.

The day my older sister was given to me.
The day my older sister was taken away from me.

September 13, 2000.

The day my sister should have lived through.
The day my sister didn't live through.

September 13, 2000.

The day I lost my sister.
The day I lost Katherine.
Yeah, I know, its a horrible poem. But I miss my sister. I may have never met her, but I still feel her presence. Yeah, I know its weird. Sorry.
Dark n Beautiful Sep 2015
I try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh so mellow*
I try to remember the kind of September
When I wore my navy blue skirt
with white bottom down top,
with glistening extension cornrows
so tight like dreadlocks.

I try to remember the kind of September
When I was young and carefree and no responsibilities
Now it’s September those after school activities.
Oh shiver me timbers to all the bus drivers
Welcome to another school year with tears

When I look into your eyes
it is like I am looking in stain glass
seeing a fire burning on high
will you hold restrain from me
I can see the pains you hold
but you stand so bold
just to tell me you have love for me
that I am your queen
but I cried out how can that be
you don't even know me
and this is what he told me
I cast pain upon all who see's you
because I will never let another have you
or love you
You will always be my everything
when Dark Angel taken me down
he looked deep into my crying eyes
I will always be your only one
I am your king of darkness
the one you will always miss
I had cast my spells upon on your head
you will never forget
this cold September night
Dark Angel would tell me his stories
and tell me so many lies
just to keep me on your side
Don't you see what you are doing to me?
you are cutting me way too deep
I am starting to feel I can no longer breath
you are taking life out of me
I know nothing last forever
this is something you tell me most of the time
but when I look into your eyes
I see stain glass of blood running into the sea
I start to cry because that is my life
you handed down to me
in darken dreams
I know deep within my heart
people do change
Why don't you give it a try
then I told him over and over
I could never love a man like you
that would be so hard for me to love someone
when he isn't free to love me back
the way I need him too
your heart is so cold
I 'm starting to think that is all you know
is a life of darkness
So I hold a candle up on high
into that cold September sky
oh did it rain with no end to the pain
this old candle has your name
I tell myself don't feel a shame
because I know I am not the blame
of yesterdays pains
Oh, why September rains
keep the memories a flowing
If we only had taken some time
you could see I had never lied
but now I set out in that cold September rains
crying out so much pains
I try to rest my head upon my bed
but when I fall into a deep sleep
I will see you
what is my poor heart to do
when I still Love You?

Poetic Lilly Judy Emery (c)
Darken Dreams
Thunderstorm Oct 2014
Last Visit: September 3rd
Replied to this topic July 19th

why don't you talk to me?
I give you messages, loyalty, love
You gave me a broken heart

Last Visit: September 3rd
Replied to this topic July 19th

You never post anymore
You never come online
I wait for you, still hoping

Last Visit: September 3rd
Replied to this topic July 19th

No emails, no phone calls, no posts on the forums
You make me feel abandoned
You used to make me feel loved.

Last Visit: September 3rd
Replied to this topic July 19th

They tell me to give up on you
I tell them I would die.
But what cause do I have to wait for you?

Last Visit: September 3rd
Replied to this topic July 19th

Every day, I wait for you
Staring at my screen
Because one day you'll come online

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mark john junor Aug 2014
a september bride her hollow sounds
fearfully echo on the leaf strewn trail
with intonations of a blushing bride to be
she makes a graceful vision
obscured only by her hamfisted collection
of undesirable father figures
who stand round the groom and brow beat
him with dire dreams
but his eyes are for her alone and
the tigers of her sensual rainforest
"lions, tigers and bears...oh my!" she whispers
into his eager ear with a sardonic grin

her hollow sounds both haunting and beautiful
they will stay with me as a soulsong
long after history has devoured her
namesake and words
a quick poet of the three line shoot from the hip haiku
pink glossy eyes all damp with remembered tears
she is the quintessential september bride
the long summer nights swayed her
the longer cold winter may undo her
but it is a girlhood dream that
she knits with papier-mâché knights and
bubblegum queens
she waits for me there
to officiate the proceedings
with a bottle of red wine and single red rose
wrapped in the tender notions of
loves sweetest kiss
eyndinmncnll Sep 2023
In September's golden, dappled light,
A love was born, pure and bright.
Beneath the changing leaves so fair,
Two hearts found something rare.

As summer's warmth began to fade,
In your arms, a serenade,
We danced amidst the autumn's grace,
A love so sweet, a warm embrace.

The cool breeze whispered secrets deep,
In September, our love took a leap,
Like leaves that flutter to the ground,
Our love, in freefall, was unbound.

In every amber-hued sunset's glow,
Our love continued to bloom and grow,
Hand in hand through life's array,
In September's love, we found our way.

Through storms and sunshine, thick and thin,
Our love endures, forever akin,
In this September's gentle breeze,
We found a love that truly frees.

So let September's love declare,
That love is endless, beyond compare,
In every season, we'll endure,
September love, forever pure.
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
This was written a few Septembers ago.  Walking on the streets of a now deserted beach island, only the leaves, in various states, to keep me company.

walk with me,
under bridges of wedding tree canopies,
still green aplenty,
tho subtle marked for change,
making summer illusions,
environmentally unsustainable.

stroll on pathways
of lesser, off the track, shaded lanes,
the sun blocker trees wear new necklaces,
brown and yellow diamonds,
a coming attraction of
their denouement,
their denudement.

The September trees are:

Ever so slightly stooped,
bent with weight of a surety,
knowing with high certainty,
their future, bleak,
bowed and drooped,
discouraged by the
cold travails soon to arrive.

Living in the recent past,
I am dressed inappropriately,
white tee and shorts,
past pretender,
still dressed in my
Gap issue summer uniform,
summer suspended animation.

Island streets are de-humanized,
gone home are the children,
newly fallen leaves have,
their place, taken.

The leaves are:

magically organized along
the sidelines of empty streets,
quiet stadiums of would be
kid's touch football fields.  

browned, crisp and soulless,
first greet this solitary stroller,
like a cheering throng of ghosts,
celebrating a sighting -
man, as a seasonal fossil,
one that still is living
and worth reminding, yet
human too shall pass when
his fall arrives.

the leave's cheers make over
into jeers and mocking laughs:

Oh humans, they say,
your summer songs naive,
mais tres charmant.

On Crescent Beach,
the driftwood sadly forlorn,
looking more adrift than ever,
for no one passes to express
admiration at the past seasons
Nouveau Expressionism,
an objet d'art lonely,
for the beach gallery shuttered,  
raising questions existential.

Is driftwood on the beach sans
human admiration,
art, truth or refuse?

I am looking backwards as the
Earth moves forward.

My own axis, my eyes,
conscientious objectors
refuse to be pressed
into service of the seasons.

No, no,
to involuntary servitude,
to rotation and revolution.

Nature's witnesses,
trees and leaves write
their own poem,
of foolish men who:

Bow and droop,
discouraged by the
travails soon to arrive,

Delaying their own fall,
finally shed summer delusions
like leaves upon the ground,
summer poetry silenced,
summer suspended, no more.
an old summer~fall poem, revived, out of season, like me. See August 25
I am a Summer-Man
Millions of babies watching the skies
Bellies swollen, with big round eyes
On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts
Noplace to **** but sand channel ruts

Millions of fathers in rain
Millions of mothers in pain
Millions of brothers in woe
Millions of sisters nowhere to go

One Million aunts are dying for bread
One Million uncles lamenting the dead
Grandfather millions homeless and sad
Grandmother millions silently mad

Millions of daughters walk in the mud
Millions of children wash in the flood
A Million girls ***** & groan
Millions of families hopeless alone

Millions of souls nineteenseventyone
homeless on Jessore road under grey sun
A million are dead, the million who can
Walk toward Calcutta from East Pakistan

Taxi September along Jessore Road
Oxcart skeletons drag charcoal load
past watery fields thru rain flood ruts
Dung cakes on treetrunks, plastic-roof huts

Wet processions   Families walk
Stunted boys    big heads don't talk
Look bony skulls   & silent round eyes
Starving black angels in human disguise

Mother squats weeping & points to her sons
Standing thin legged    like elderly nuns
small bodied    hands to their mouths in prayer
Five months small food    since they settled there

on one floor mat   with small empty ***
Father lifts up his hands at their lot
Tears come to their mother's eye
Pain makes mother Maya cry

Two children together    in palmroof shade
Stare at me   no word is said
Rice ration, lentils   one time a week
Milk powder for warweary infants meek

No vegetable money or work for the man
Rice lasts four days    eat while they can
Then children starve    three days in a row
and ***** their next food   unless they eat slow.

On Jessore road    Mother wept at my knees
Bengali tongue    cried mister Please
Identity card    torn up on the floor
Husband still waits    at the camp office door

Baby at play I was washing the flood
Now they won't give us any more food
The pieces are here in my celluloid purse
Innocent baby play    our death curse

Two policemen surrounded     by thousands of boys
Crowded waiting    their daily bread joys
Carry big whistles    & long bamboo sticks
to whack them in line    They play hungry tricks

Breaking the line   and jumping in front
Into the circle    sneaks one skinny runt
Two brothers dance forward    on the mud stage
Teh gaurds blow their whistles    & chase them in rage

Why are these infants    massed in this place
Laughing in play    & pushing for space
Why do they wait here so cheerful   & dread
Why this is the House where they give children bread

The man in the bread door   Cries & comes out
Thousands of boys and girls    Take up his shout
Is it joy? is it prayer?    "No more bread today"
Thousands of Children  at once scream "Hooray!"

Run home to tents    where elders await
Messenger children   with bread from the state
No bread more today! & and no place to squat
Painful baby, sick **** he has got.

Malnutrition skulls thousands for months
Dysentery drains    bowels all at once
Nurse shows disease card    Enterostrep
Suspension is wanting    or else chlorostrep

Refugee camps    in hospital shacks
Newborn lay naked    on mother's thin laps
Monkeysized week old    Rheumatic babe eye
Gastoenteritis Blood Poison    thousands must die

September Jessore    Road rickshaw
50,000 souls   in one camp I saw
Rows of bamboo    huts in the flood
Open drains, & wet families waiting for food

Border trucks flooded, food cant get past,
American Angel machine   please come fast!
Where is Ambassador Bunker today?
Are his Helios machinegunning children at play?

Where are the helicopters of U.S. AID?
Smuggling dope in Bangkok's green shade.
Where is America's Air Force of Light?
Bombing North Laos all day and all night?

Where are the President's Armies of Gold?
Billionaire Navies    merciful Bold?
Bringing us medicine    food and relief?
Napalming North Viet Nam    and causing more grief?

Where are our tears?  Who weeps for the pain?
Where can these families go in the rain?
Jessore Road's children close their big eyes
Where will we sleep when Our Father dies?

Whom shall we pray to for rice and for care?
Who can bring bread to this **** flood foul'd lair?
Millions of children alone in the rain!
Millions of children weeping in pain!

Ring O ye tongues of the world for their woe
Ring out ye voices for Love we don't know
Ring out ye bells of electrical pain
Ring in the conscious of America brain

How many children are we who are lost
Whose are these daughters we see turn to ghost?
What are our souls that we have lost care?
Ring out ye musics and weep if you dare--

Cries in the mud by the thatch'd house sand drain
Sleeps in huge pipes in the wet ****-field rain
waits by the pump well, Woe to the world!
whose children still starve    in their mother's arms curled.

Is this what I did to myself in the past?
What shall I do Sunil Poet I asked?
Move on and leave them without any coins?
What should I care for the love of my *****?

What should we care for our cities and cars?
What shall we buy with our Food Stamps on Mars?
How many millions sit down in New York
& sup this night's table on bone & roast pork?

How many millions of beer cans are tossed
in Oceans of Mother? How much does She cost?
Cigar gasolines and   asphalt car dreams
Stinking the world and dimming star beams--

Finish the war in your breast    with a sigh
Come tast the tears    in your own Human eye
Pity us millions of phantoms you see
Starved in Samsara   on planet TV

How many millions of children die more
before our Good Mothers perceive the Great Lord?
How many good fathers pay tax to rebuild
Armed forces that boast    the children they've killed?

How many souls walk through Maya in pain
How many babes    in illusory pain?
How many families   hollow eyed  lost?
How many grandmothers    turning to ghost?

How many loves who never get bread?
How many Aunts with holes in their head?
How many sisters skulls on the ground?
How many grandfathers   make no more sound?

How many fathers in woe
How many sons   nowhere to go?
How many daughters    nothing to eat?
How many uncles   with swollen sick feet?

Millions of babies in pain
Millions of mothers in rain
Millions of brothers in woe
Millions of children    nowhere to go

                                        New York, November 14-16, 1971

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