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September Morn
I watch the World around me
As again I hear nature call
For it is the end of summertime
And the awakening of a beautiful fall.
The leaves have changed their colors
The skies became icy white
My heart becomes exceedingly joyful
At Septembers, beautiful sight.
The rustling wind has turned to cold
The leaves have changed to brown
This moment, I pray to hold
As the leaves fall onto the ground.
The squirrels scurry from their trees
The birds have all flown away
It is another September morning
I feel it with each step that I take.
With a cold wind against my back
I journey to a great tree
To pick up the jewels that she left there
An acorn, and a lonely leaf.
I shiver as I walk
With a leaf and acorn in hand
I watch fall as it arrives around me,
So happy is this man.
I then walk up unto my wife
I present her with the leaf and acorn
So happy I am with this fall,
That I give Her my September morn.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Understanding
Oh you mighty oak
from the acorn did you spring.
And so you grew slowly
from so small a thing.
Your magnificent stature
brings to mind
how I can hold you
in an acorn I find.
And the beauty of you
I can hold in my hand.
And maybe that's the way
God has planned
to connect my soul
with an oak so tall
that I'll understand
as in all God's things
I am really not that small.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Food For Thought
The squirrel that finds an acorn,
Does he really know
the power that the acorn has
if let alone to grow?
It grows into a mighty oak
for the squirrel to scamper on,
until the fall arrives once more
when all the leaves are gone.
It's then the powerful acorn
is dug up once again
to repeat the yearly ritual
by our bushy-tailed little friend.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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In The Garden Of Olives
the garden of olives is silent.
it has been silent for years.
no one wants to tell its story.
about a garden of olives and
how blood reaches there
there it is, unreached by humanity,
untouched by the fingers of civilization
certified virgin garden of olives.
three shadows on twilight.
gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've been fighting with Acorn, alongside Acorn, on issues you care about, my entire career.
quote by Barack Obama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Holy September
A kiss on the lips of today
For stepping into tommorow.
The blinds are closed for now.
Don't sell yourself for sorrow.
Oh! Precious my september.
Begins with all the stars.
Buses from the summer.
In september driving cars.
Praising my september.
Praising all my needs.
Sends me to tomorrow.
September grows my seeds.
Officers of my journey.
With love inside the day.
The tolerance of my wonder.
The tolerence of my dismay.
Nestled in september.
You've wakened from those dreams.
Oh holy, my september.
The cloth around my seams.
September shines around me,
Like the sun onto my day.
September my september.
Is there any other way?
poem by Attia Taylor
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The Acorn
An acorn swung
On an oak-tree bough;
So long it had hung,
It would fain fall now
To the kindly earth,
That its germ within
Might burst into birth,
And its life begin.
And the autumn came
With its burning hand,
And each leaf grew a flame,
And each bough a brand.
And a worm came up
And began to eat
Though the hard, dry cup
To the acorn sweet.
And the acorn thought,
“I shall soon see now
The life I have sought,
When I fall from the bough;
For the worm gnaws through
Each tendon slight,
That about me grew,
And bound me tight.”
And with dying day
Came the zephyr’s sound;
And the acorn lay
Next morn on the ground;
But its germ was gone
By the worm’s sharp teeth;
And the ground it had won
Was its grave in death.
poem by Francis William Bourdillon
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The Months
January brings the snow,
makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes loud and shrill,
stirs the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daises at our feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs,
Skipping by their fleecy damns.
June brings tulips, lilies, roses,
Fills the children's hand with posies.
Hot july brings cooling showers,
Apricots and gillyflowers.
August brings the sheaves of corn,
Then the harvest home is borne.
Warm september brings the fruit,
Sportsmen then begin to shoot.
Fresh October brings the pheasents,
Then to gather nuts is pleasent.
Dull November brings the blast,
Then the leaves are whirling fast.
Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.
poem by Sara Coleridge
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Meeting You
Early September was the first day of school,
I did not know you,
But your laugh captured me.
My eyes met with yours,
Now you’re the only one I see.
Mid September I asked you out.
Filled in my heart,
was so much doubt.
You are so pretty and witty too.
Do you like me?
I really like you.
At first the few weeks were pretty rough,
not many people wanted us together,
but you went with your gut,
as did I.
New Year has come,
Were still together,
Keeping down our path,
warmth it brings me,
To know such a woman,
Standing beside me.
poem by Michael Rentz
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A Fun of September!
End of summer
And beginning of winter
Is September!
Sand melting heat
And sand wetting rain
Occur in September!
Full grown fruits
And fully blossomed flowers
You see in September!
Heat in the morning
And rain in evening and night
Town gets in September!
Summer holiday ends
And all festivals begin now on
From September on!
September begins
Fast pace of the year ever
With all festivals!
They being Ganesh Chadurthi,
Navrathri, Diwali, Christmas,
New Year and Pongal are...!
Time moves fast
As no boredom ever shows
Head from September!
Fun of September
Starts Autumn, Rain and Winter
All in one....!
poem by Ramesh T A
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September Grass
Well, the suns not so hot in the sky today
And you know I can see summertime slipping on away
A few more geese are gone, a few more leaves turning red
But the grass is as soft as a feather in a featherbed
So Ill be king and youll be queen
Our kingdoms gonna be this little patch of green
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh the memory is like the sweetest pain
Yeah, I kissed the girl at a football game
I can still smell the sweat and the grass stains
We walked home together. I was never the same.
But that was a long time ago
And where is she now? I dont know
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh, september grass is the sweetest kind
It goes down easy like apple wine
Hope you dont mind if I pour you some
Made that much sweeter by the winter to come
Do you see those ants dancing on a blade of grass?
Do you know what I know? thats you and me, baby
Were so small and the worlds so vast
We found each other down in the grass
Wont you lie down with me right here
September grass
Wont you lie down with me now
In this september grass
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
(repeat)
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down here now
In this september grass
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am He
I am he,
Spoke the acorn to the tree
Said the flower to the seed
Replied the wind to the breeze
And standing up in awe
Stood an oak tree standing tall
And below his roots did lie
The acorn who did cry
That I am he.
Like the wind who fathers the breeze
Or the flower, who nourishes the seed
To grow up and be like he
I am he.
I am he said the father to the sky
And the stars in the night
To his son that he held
To become like himself
And I am he.
I am he
Said the raven to its young
And the bear to its cub
And the wind to the breeze
That I am he.
And looking up in belief
Lied an acorn from a tree
From which that it had fallen
Knowing he had been calling’
To be like he.
So, I am he
Like the father is the child
And the flower is the seed
The raindropp to the sea
I am he!
And he is me
Replied the oak tree to the seed.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Come September
Her bones will ache
Her mouth will shake
And as the passion dies
Her magic heart will break
She'll fly to France
'Cause there's no chance
No hope for Cinderella
Come September
Her violet sky
Will need to cry
'Cause if it doesn't rain
Then everything will die
She needs to heal
She needs to feel
Something more than tender
Come September
Everything wrong
Gonna be all right
Come September
The souls that burn
Will twist and turn and
Find you in the dark
No matter where you run
But lost her spark
And what she's pushing for
She can't remember
Everything wrong
Gonna be all right
Come September
Her eyes surrender
Her cry a crying shame
Coming undone
Is she ever gonna
Feel the same
She will run
She's gona drink the sun
Shining just for you
Instead of everyone
And so it goes
She'll stand alone
And try no to remember
Come September
Everything wrong
Gonna be all right
Come September
She's made her mark
song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia from White Lilies Island
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Greeting Us With A New Surprise
After the March winds
we have the April rain.
Now in May we watch
the pretty flows grow.
June, July and August
are the flowering seasons
at the height of the noonday’s sun.
September brings the autumn leaves
near the closing of the year.
October seems to bear all
as the autumn leaves begin to fall.
November brings a chill
to every living thing
announcing winter is on its way.
December’s snow blankets
the hard frozen ground.
January brings in a new year
to February’s valentines.
And so each moth rolls by,
each greeting us with a new surprise.
23-24 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Delay
now, we have the September.
is clear and solar
but he likes the July,
not to say the August.
then everything is so kind,
all warm and cosy.
oh well, a September
it is a September.
doesn't worry about it
isn't taking over.
is taking the other
wall diary out
of the drawer is.
he is hanging up
and he is placing
the appropriate date still
and is raising
oneself spirit.
everyone are in September
and he still in August,
not to say in July
so he is able to be delayed
until pleasantly
it is getting at very thought
I... mainly,
I am entire year... in May.
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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A Year Later
Freshman year, cool September morn',
A day which brings despair.
Two warriors standing proud and tall,
Struck down by eagles of the enemy.
What once was there, there was no more.
No more warriors, but heroes are what we have.
Men and women, burdened by grief,
Rise like the Phoenix out of the ashes.
A year later...
Sophomore year, a cool September morn',
A year of pain and suffering gone by.
Two warriors, passed into ghostly passages,
Still live on, as clouds in the sky.
poem by Christine Elm
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September Girl
My September girl is a master of her own inner Sanctum.
Her beauty is paralyzing to onlookers, who never seen that side of her continent.
My September girl gave me all of her love, soul, body and attention.
She will always be a treasure in this man's heart.
Her beauty is art and when she would leave, he would ask where is thou art?
My September girl has an inner door, that can only be opened by a special key.
This key he did not obtain, for this chorus was, and is still in his mind, and brain.
Never can be to intoxicated off of her love, for she is like wine, and spirits, that never left a hangover.
My September girl comes from March, which can be seen as Mar's, for her visage was alien to me. What can I see when I look in her soul?
My September girl is Godly and deep. When she was with me she was asleep.
Now that she awoke from that cloud of smoke,
she realized her uncanny potential, her uncanny soul, and spoke of a dream where she was as sweet as September.
poem by Josephe Buchanan
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When September Arrives, Again
September arrives and Autumn begins.
The Summer then bows to Fall.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
In New England.
September arrives,
And the sky loses brightness.
Winds start to whip...
Leaves off of trees.
I use to wonder,
Why I heard thundering...
As it rained to bring a change to things.
September seems erratic and dramatic.
Shifting as it does...
To prepare all for the Winter.
Children return to school,
As cool winds descend.
September has come back,
Again...
So quickly.
September arrives,
And Autumn begins.
The Summer then bows to Fall.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
In New England.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
When September arrived.
And Autumn began,
With winds again.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
As Autumn began,
With winds again to begin.
When September arrived.
When September...
Arrived!
When September,
Arrives...
Again.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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September In The Rain
1 2 2 toobidoo.
The leaves of brown
Came tumbling down,
Remember in september in the rain.
The sun went out
Just like a light,
Remember in september in the rain.
To every word
Of love i heard you whisper
The raindrops seems
To play a sweet refrain.
Thought it's spring,
To me it's still september,
Oh that september in the rain.
To every word
Of love i heard you whisper
The raindrops seems
To play a sweet refrain.
Thought it's spring,
To me it's still september,
Oh that september in the rain.
I said i said it's september in the rain.
Ah september in the rain.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silence In September
Sometimes when I laugh I feel so guilty
For a moment I've forgotten, then I remember the sounds of your laughter and my eyes mist
I haven't come to accept yet the absence of your laughter
Silence of a home has its own agony
I never knew there would be a September without you
September with its endless sadness, its loneliness
Everything reminds me of you -- the color of wild flowers,
the smell of autumn air, the sound of creek water flowing over rocks, the mournful sound of a dove--
Small things I never noticed before
Death brings such poignancy, such humility
One is left so defenseless
Before I was never aware that the mornings rays of a September sun are somehow different
They appear to have a more golden glow as they caress the leaves
Perhaps sensing a coming farewell
Time is meaningless now
Our hearts broken
Something infinitely precious was stolen away from us
Days are long
Some we don't know how we'll get through
We feel so wasted, so empty, an eternal emptiness without you
poem by Barbara M. Thomas
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