Books fall from Garry Wills like leaves from a maple tree in a sort of permanent October.
quote by John Leonard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Leaves (thread)
under the dogwood
leaves cover
a cat’s grave
early spring
one leaf still dangles
from the tree
palmistry
dew drops on a leaf
pick a vein
widow’s diary
pressed rose petal
the last leaf
with the rain drops
leaves flutter to the ground
fall showers
fallen leaves
circusing in the grass
merry-go-wind
October shower
leaves in the gutter
disembark
leaves changing colors
across the landscape
season's chameleons
morning rain
under maple leaves
tap my shoulder
leaves ripple
with melodies
cicadas song
These were published online by Sketchbook. See September/October “leaves” Haiku thread:
poem by Ben Gieske
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Autumn
You called up late
Said you wanted to talk
I was afraid
Cause you spoke so softly
You took my hand
Slowly started to cry
I can't understand
Why our season went by
Why do leaves fall down from the sky
Is the tree not strong enough
You turned away
Slowly opened the door
Said you could not stay
You couldn't take it no more
It started to rain
Tears kept falling from the sky
It did not stop the pain
It did not stop the pain
Why do leaves fall down from the sky
Is the tree not strong enough
Now I fall on the ground
It did not stop the pain
It did not stop the pain
Why do leaves fall down from the sky
Is the tree not strong enough
Why do leaves fall down from the sky
Is the tree not strong enough
Now I fall on the ground
Now I fall on the ground
It did not stop the pain
It did not stop the pain
Why do leaves fall down from the sky
Is the tree not strong enough
song performed by by Green Lizard from Identity
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
[revised 11-19-09] Getting Through October and Beyond
What was it about October
That made us think
Spring would not be coming back?
The weather rattled at us,
Leaves fell,
Leaving us feeling
It's not going to get any better.
No amount of experience or
Logic will helped,
Spring last year didn't help,
When the shorter days of
Fall and Winter closed in.
Beyond October?
What was it about October
That assured us
Spring will be coming back?
The weather hinted of changes,
Leaves brave enough
To let go one by one,
Or be pushed in bunches by the wind
Took momentary flight, and
Abandoned their accustomed tree.
They made room for new buds
Provided cover for the soil and
Food for those below.
Lots of work to get ready
For Spring next year and to
Just get through Fall and Winter.
Then came November.
November brought
What October teased.
October warned us,
Rushed at us,
Then seemed to pull back
Like a gentle rolling surf.
On a rough November day
A wave rushed over our heads
Knocked us down and threatened
To pull us far out to sea.
As we floated
We saw the shore disappear.
No one will come to help.
They won't even know we're gone.
'I've got to get to December! '
We scream.
'New Year's Day! Easter!
May Day! MAY DAY! '
And we will
Even if we have no idea
Why or how
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Death beneath my feet
The dead brown maple leaves litter the path
Where I walk. Others of its kind dropping
From their lofty homes, victims of the wrath
Of autumns chilling gales, unrelenting
And tellingly- stark reminder of death-
Companion through life all of us must face.
I tread over brittle corpses beneath
My feet in their final resting place
And I am reminded of my sister
Poor soul! Who died one chilly October.
I remember the maple leaves that stirred
Around my feet that day she was interred.
Lifeless entities swirling, hurling down
Atop her casket deep beneath the ground.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Only the winners decide what were war crimes.
quote by Garry Wills
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Barbaric Barber
Icy October Wind
...Invisible scissors
Cruelly clipping loose
The lovely auburn tresses
Of tiny maple tree.
poem by LaRetha Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The heart of a tree
With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Maple Leaves
All the leaves on the maple trees
are fiery red in the fall.
To see one in fall's glory
before the wintry call
is to witness nature's beauty
before the leaves fly away.
Then our eyes much adjust to barky limbs
for the fiery red can't stay.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sweet Fall
The leaves have already grown back
now that november is gone
The sweet november i met you
months go by and we grow farther apart
The cool gentle breeze blowing in my face
and now a lukewarm summers embrace
but as the seasons change so do we
not tied back, but not necassarily free
that sweet october
how sweet and kind it was
now love flourished and blossomed
now my heart misses the sweet fall
because summer has nothing waiting for me
almost like if in the season of nothing at all
and the branches on my tree now grow tall
with flowers and birds
but i still miss november, october and early december
moving on not being able to stall
i move on with your memory
and the memory of our
sweet fall
poem by Alma Estrella
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fading Chlorophyll In Maple Leaves of Autumn
Stands still the foliage
In full colors of October
Upon the slopes of Mount Royal
And white seagulls hover
Above the waves
In the port.
The purple foam of urban magic
Penetrates everything and overgrows
This city compressed between hill and river
While the quiet sorrow flows
On the streets
Of downtown.
Stands still the foliage
In full colors of October
Revealing my own life cycle
My receding years, hidden order
Fading chlorophyll
In maple leaves
Of autumn.
poem by Paul Hartal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fall, Magnificient Fall
Oh to simply read you-Garrison-
Conjures up masterpieces in my minds eye-
Divine 'tis the Maple Tree (more so even now)
Unbridled passion, flows throughout the Autumns sky;
Oh, the colours that you write of, Garrison-
Golden Yellows to the Blazing Reds...
And of course, Falls Dance of Romance-
And the truth of the masterpieces-oft' ignored, once you're dead;
You touch upon the reality of it all-Garrison-
Not listening, as we ignore bad advise-given from the Maple tree...
And when the rain comes pouring and the wind blows gales-
In the end, what we really have is a heap of rotting leaves! ;
So say you of what it is like in St. Paul, Garrison?
Our own mortality, it cannot be put on pause...
For we are as fragile and forgettable as the maple tree-
Fighting our petty battles but for what noble cause? ? ?
You state basicically that we are born and then we die-
Can you imagine the obituarys of the great poets of the past?
Dying so young- -as Shelley and Keats-
We might feel a twinge reading it- but it would not last! ? !
Fall, oh your magnificient Fall- - Garrison...
Remembering the young romantic poets of their time-
Writing at their very best at 25, 28, 29, and 31...
Dying soon after completing their very best rhymes;
Oh how i love to read you, Garrison...
So brave-not allowing a little stroke-get you down-
A Prairie Home Companion and 77 Love Sonnets-are a must...
Were you aware that you're creating a Legacy that will indeed live on?
***************************************** ***********************************
It is with great admiration and esteem that i dedicate this poem
To Garrison Keilor...Of St Paul, Minnisota-Columnist-
Author of 77 Sonnets-Stroke Survivor Since The first Week In September Of 2009.
Here's to Spring Garrison
****Spring Magnificient Spring-Read it in the paper! ! !
Da do run run da do run run...
Met him on a Monday and my heart stood still
Somebody told me that his name was Bill.
Da Do run run Da do run run...
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Maple
is a system of posture for wood.
A way of not falling down
for twigs that happens
to benefit birds. I don't know.
I'm staring at a tree,
at yellow leaves
threshed by wind and want you
reading this to be staring
at the same tree. I could
cut it down and laminate it
or ask you to live with me
on the stairs with the window
keeping an eye on the maple
but I think your real life
would miss you. The story
here is that all morning
I've thought of the statement
that art is about loneliness
while watching golden leaves
become unhinged.
By ones or in bunches
they tumble and hang
for a moment like a dress
in the dryer.
At the laundromat
you've seen the arms
thrown out to catch the shirt
flying the other way.
Just as you've stood
at the bottom of a gray sky
in a pile of leaves
trying to lick them
back into place.
You compose because you want to somehow summarize in some permanent form your most basic feelings about being alive, to set down... some sort of permanent statement about the way it feels to live now, today.
quote by Aaron Copland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Watch The Moon From My Maple Tree
As I watch the moon
So quietly
From high above
In my maple tree
I see the stars
That shine all night
They speak to me
Making sure I'm alright
My life is hard
But I'm ok
Watching the show
With nothing to say
As the moon and the stars
Dance the night away
I sit and stare
Like I can't in the day
When I'm up so high
I feel so free
Happy and safe
In my maple tree
The moon is the sun
That shines in the dark
I can see it from bed
Or from way in the park
It helps me a lot
The moon is my guide
And 'I love that old tree'
I queitly sighed
poem by Miranda Van Yperen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Driving while intoxicated (by Fall)
Driving while intoxicated
Drunk with the smells and sights
Of yellow Oak trees and red maple leaves
And golden harvest moon nights
Weaving my way through mind boggling colors
Each turn full of new delights
The reds and the purples of the maple surples
Bring inebriatation to new heights
This excess of pastels seen through my windshield
Makes me feel high as a kite
And in my rear-view mirror, more colors revealed
the frigging fall’s flashin’… of red and blue light
Scrawlin’ my name on a pink ticket pad
Crawlin’ into the backseat of a black and white
Busted from being intossicatated
And drivin’Under the infuluence… of Fall’s delight
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
October Rose
Mother you were born the twenty-fourth of October.The month when things fall, and get blown alway.We will never be separated no wind could ever blow our love alway.Your birthstone is pink, and that defines your sweet tenderness.Mother your favorite color of rose is yellow which stands for sympathy.You raised me with care, and confidence.You always gave me A shoulder to lean on when no one else was there.I was the tree, and you picked up my leaves.You dried up the sap, and patched it with A comforting soothe.I feel as I could never lose.For I have you my October rose to hold close.
dedicated to my mother..Theresa Anne Howard
poem by Shonda Barnes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Leaves
We are like the
Leaves of the tree
That fall and
Perish away…
And then
New leaves are born.
The tree is the world.
We are the people.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My October Symphony
(tennant/lowe)
----------------------
So much confusion
When autumn comes around
What to do about october
How to smile behind a frown?
Its hard to settle down
Its so bemusing
Will they cancel the parade?
We marched each october
Now they say we were never even saved
We must be very brave
Shall I rewrite or revise
My october symphony?
Or as an indication
Change the dedication
From revolution to revelation?
So were all drinking
As leaves fall to the ground
Because weve been thinking
How octobers let us down
Then and now
Shall we remember
December instead?
Or worry about february?
Mourn our war-torn dead
Never seeing red?
Shall I rewrite or revise
My october symphony?
Or as an indication
Change the dedication
From revolution to revelation?
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Maple Tree
The Maple with its tassell flowers of green
That turns to red, a stag horn shapèd seed
Just spreading out its scallopped leaves is seen,
Of yellowish hue yet beautifully green.
Bark ribb'd like corderoy in seamy screed
That farther up the stem is smoother seen,
Where the white hemlock with white umbel flowers
Up each spread stoven to the branches towers
And mossy round the stoven spread dark green
And blotched leaved orchis and the blue-bell flowers -
Thickly they grow and neath the leaves are seen.
I love to see them gemm'd with morning hours.
I love the lone green places where they be
And the sweet clothing of the Maple tree.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It Is So Beaufitul
a tree
dies attacked by fungus
infection is all
over
all leaves fall
to the ground
i watch sadness
creeping on stones
a tree without leaves
is happiness
stripped
off
as though deserted
all essence
gone
it does not end there
yet
this afternoon
birds with yellow breasts
and tiny beaks
come hovering
the dead tree sings a song
to the night
the sky is listening and it is
so beautiful
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!