Have you ever been out for a late autumn walk in the closing part of the afternoon, and suddenly looked up to realize that the leaves have practically all gone And the sun has set and the day gone before you knew it - and with that a cold wind blows across the landscape That's retirement.
quote by Stephen Butler Leacock
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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George Edmunds' Song
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,
Thick clust'ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
poem by Charles Dickens
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When The Wind Blows
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
In a part of this once-great city
Stands a child crying out in pity.
Gone is hope in the heart of each hungry hour.
Every year in this land of plenty
There are millions of starving children
What will i say if they look my way?
This is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Bow your heads to the lost generation
Scars so deep, bringing god's damnation.
Businessmen sip wine while congress argue.
But for grace we enjoy our pleasures
What we face will be our salvation
Go build your towns, but remember time will not forget
That this is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Think of what the wise men said.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As the cold wind blows
As the cold wind blows
I smile and laugh
As the cold wind blows
Im warm and safe
As the cold wind blows
The fire inside is hot
As the cold wind blows
My love is not for naught
As the cold wind blows
My love keeps me warm
As the cold wind blows
I feel only this love
Warming me making me
The man I am today
As the cold wind blows
I know soon this cold wind will blow away.
poem by Troy Nichols
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Still women love men
Wind in spring blows;
Petals wither.
Wind in summer blows;
Fruits fall down.
Wind in autumn blows;
Leaves are shed.
Wind in winter blows;
Barks get cracks.
Still trees love wind.
Still women love men.
27.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The winter is coming
The cat tells me
that its time for its food
and outside bees
still fly past in a swarm
and I realise that it’s late afternoon,
that the shadows are drawing long lines,
the wind rustles through the tree branches
and it’s already almost cold
as the winter is coming.
Still there’s something in the late autumn
that catches me
where here and there leaves
hang like dots on tree branches,
that the sun sometimes still gives hot rays
as if it does not really want
the cold to come
and the grass is still green
like in the summer.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I had to forsake the world of my childhood
The cat tells me
that its time for its food
and outside bees
still fly past in a swarm
and I realise that it’s late afternoon,
that the shadows are drawing long lines,
the wind rustles through the tree branches
and it’s already almost cold
as the winter is coming.
Still there’s something in the late autumn
that catches me
where here and there leaves
hang like dots on tree branches,
that the sun sometimes still gives hot rays
as if it does not really want
the cold to come
and the grass is still green
like in the summer.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Winds Of Wyoming
Have you ever heard the wind
blowing across the plains?
Moving and stacking snow
in drifts across the lane
Have you heard the wind howling
like a wolf baying at the moon?
It's an eerie and unnerving feeling
making up its melodious tune
Have you ever watched the trees
bending to and fro in the wind?
Leaves blow off and scatter around
it's mother nature who has sinned
Have you heard the windows rattle
as the wind blows through the cracks?
The draft blows under each of the doors
it's coming in from the back
The wind is part of our landscape
and it's with us most everyday
But we love Wyoming wind that's true
it's ours and we're here to stay
poem by Louise Davis
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Cold Wind Blows
the cold wind blows
one early morning
rushing through my skin
like abnormal flora
the unknown make me host
for gooseflesh i can't handle
but i quit fearing ghost
for they are just imagination
dream i think that can cause suffocation
the cold wind blows
it's natural
just as natural as i know
it's nearing December
so cold wind blows
but is it really the nearing month
that cause the cold wind blows?
poem by Shelomith Noarbe
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Contrary Theses (II)
One chemical afternoon in mid-autumn,
When the grand mechanics of earth and sky were near;
Even the leaves of the locust were yellow then,
He walked with his year-old boy on his shoulder.
The sun shone and the dog barked and the baby slept.
The leaves, even of the locust, the green locust.
He wanted and looked for a final refuge,
From the bombastic intimations of winter
And the martyrs a la mode. He walked toward
An abstract, of which the sun, the dog, the boy
Were contours. Cold was chilling the wide-moving swans.
The leaves were falling like notes from a piano.
The abstract was suddenly there and gone again.
The negroes were playing football in the park.
The abstract that he saw, like the locust-leaves, plainly:
The premiss from which all things were conclusions,
The noble, Alexandrine verve. The flies
And the bees still sought the chrysanthemums’ odor.
poem by Wallace Stevens
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In A Cold Wind
In a cold wind
in a night wind,
under a yellow street-light,
its paleness and the dark night.
Leaves blown past,
down the wind, cast
onto the silent roadway,
or in heaps, on the footway.
The houses that rise
into grey skies,
windows with drawn curtains,
facing onto pale gardens.
Slow in the sky,
the clouds moving by;
on the ground, the shadows blurred,
the whistling wind heard.
And the wind that blows
comes not, nor goes.
In this night, its sound
wraps all around.
Not here alone,
its long low drone,
along endless fences and hedges,
insidiously edges.
Now is the hour,
now is the closing of the flower,
an end to approaching and retreating,
to losing and defeating,
in a cold wind,
in a night wind,
on a corner of a cold street,
where all directions meet.
poem by Rory Hudson
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The Autumn Is In The Leaves
The autumn is in the leaves,
in the gestures of people,
when trees are already standing as skeletons,
the autumn is bringing pain
when the winter appears,
the stormy wind blows doors close
with spots of sun splashing down,
stripped trees are in their bark,
lonely I walk in the lane.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Wind From... Elsewhere
The wind blows here... the wind blows there
The wind seems to blow from... everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair...
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! Can you see its graceful fingers... playing in your hair?
Nay! You cannot see the wind... e'en though you know it's there.
It's flitting... it's flirting... it's prancing everywhere
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! It blows unexpectedly... with a gentle breeze... it blows...
The Great Hand of Miracles... brings it... then it goes
To greet the early morning sun... to dance to and fro
From the highest, loftiest mountain heights... to valleys... far below. 'Who is He that sitteth upon the circle of the earth...
Who gathereth the winds in his fists—Who maketh a wind to pass over...
Thou hearest the sound thereof...
But canst not tell whence it cometh... and wither it goeth.' The wind blows here... the wind blows there...
The wind seems to blow... from everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair—
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE!
poem by Elga Haymon White
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Powdered Kaolin
Autumn’s closing in now,
leaves have dressed the ground.
Laying in heaped profusion,
so still, making no sound.
Reds and rusts are mingling,
beneath each skeletal tree.
Tumbling when the breezes blow,
off on their reckless spree.
Misty are the mornings,
bad weather’s moving in.
Frost will appear on branches,
like powdered kaolin.
October, then November,
Summer is no longer here,
Chilly days are approaching,
the last leaves disappear.
Autumn’s closing in now,
with blustery winds so cold.
But, whatever Winter brings,
Spring will again unfold.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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To Walk Into The Wind And Cold In Jerusalem
TO WALK INTO THE WIND AND THE COLD IN JERUSALEM
To walk into the wind and the cold in Jerusalem
And to feel suddenly
So much more alive and happy-
And to walk and to walk
Against that wind
Against that cold
And feel with each stretch of a leg
A power and a joy and a happiness
One felt so many many years ago
And still feel now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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When the wind blows
When the wind blows in autumn
Falling leaves are the outcome
As the trees become lonesome
Naked without leaves
But with the believe
Again to become wholesome
When the wind blows in winter
It welcomes a chilling breeze
With it comes the familiar freeze
Everything becomes cheaper
Activities decrease, the only increase
Are the utility bills
When the wind blows in spring
Plants spring back to life
All natural life awakens and sings
With the honeybees buzzing and cheering
The wind begins to show signs of caring
For it is awaiting summer and preparing
Whilst gently airing
When the wind blows in summer
Its power is less fierce and dimmer
Like a beginner of a swimmer
The winds touch is a lot calmer
As it turns on its gentle charmer
Allowing us to get carried away
On the hot beaches as dreamers
To a winters wind
They say no, no, no
To a summers wind
They say blow, blow, blow
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Cold Wind Waits
though the frost is gone, the
cold wind waits.
the robin sings while the
cold wind waits.
a gentle breeze
now blows the wheat,
but a threat of rain
will change to sleet.
the summer slips and the
cold wind waits.
though the warm wind blows, the
cold wind waits.
the traffic crawls while the
cold wind waits.
it's dark too early,
winter too soon,
light of the sun
will change to moon.
the weather turns and the
cold wind waits.
(2011-Bolingbrook, IL)
poem by Mark Money
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Autumn Wind
Autumn wind carry me away
To a loving place in which to stay
Where the sun shines above the bay
With kind words in which to say
Where love will flourish every day
Just hold me close
In my world you mean the most
Like the sun rising over the coast
Sitting by the fire pit
Marshmallows on a stick to roast
Champagne for us to toast
Autumn wind carry me away
To a place far away
Where the passion comes to stay
Where the winds of romance blows this way
With a love that lasts all day
Autumn wind carry me away
Autumn wind have your say
Autumn wind save my day
Autumn wind come to stay
poem by Joseph Whelan
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Three Starlings
I've seen three starlings in the sun-set
And the cold wind blows all over,
Three starlings flown from the Russian Front
Til the cold wind blow blows over.
Til the cold war wind blows over all
In the cold of the cold war warring,
Three starlings sit in the English mist
With the English Channel calling.
16 March 1974
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Summer's Wind
Be weary, Lord of the summer wind,
Lord of the heat that you blow in,
Away with flowers, land and trees,
To stay them not, least all the trees.
Listen to this, all that I say,
Our land does die, and drift away.
Our living born upon the wind,
All of ours, and those of friends.
So we called upon the leave-filled wind,
The autumn one, of which were friends.
This wind of cool and gentle hand,
Not like the wind that stole our land.
And the heat did melt into the leaves,
And turned them colors from the trees.
Then the leave-filled wind bore them away,
And upon the land, they came to stay.
And stayed them there, till land-hard cold,
And then the land, the leaves they stole.
And after the harsh cold wind had blown,
And living soil again was sown,
Summer's wind came again to prey,
Upon our lands, most every day.
But our living land, the leaves did save,
And the summer's wind did blow away,
Never to re-live, the seasons day.
The cool soft wind now blows so free,
Upon the land, and through the trees.
All through the people, and over me.
poem by Sandra Osborne
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Autumn's Grace
The autumn’s dream may keep its dying grace
With flecks and shades of bleeding leaves and yellow.
The cold wind's scorch may wither the green’s space,
When fruits of green a bit more need to mellow.
And autumn’s tear on every leaf perceives
The cold wind, which scorches green so cruelly,
Till glass fleck shade of bleeding yellow leaves
The living world to meet its ground so coolly.
And autumn’s red may silence the bird’s voice,
When shivers of the tree the rain embrace
And nature's hide, having no other choice.
The winter slowly comes showing her white face.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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