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!
Related quotes
Daydreaming
The Deciduous maple trees
With their temporary broad leaves
Fell in great numbers during the
Early, darkened, chilly morning.
Their photosynthetic lifetimes
Once green are now shadows of life
As they lay lifeless on the ground.
As I slowly pedal along
The beaten path, a crispy sound
Emerges from beneath the wheels;
And a sweet odoriferous
Scent from their decaying-remains
Beckons forth from my aged mind
Pleasurable abstract musing.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Autumn Burial
A small crowd stood around the grave;
my presence being one of them.
With our heads bowed downward and our
Predominant, black and white clothes
We all resembled king penguins
in the early autumn morning.
The breeze increased and blew the brown
Dead maple leaves around our feet,
some aptly onto the casket
deep within the newly dug grave.
Other than the wind, the silence
Is deafening except for an
occasional cough from the group.
The eulogy begins “Here lies ….”
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Haunted Haven
Beyond the woods
The branching oak and canopy of leaves still abide
The bench is there
The leaves still fall
The cree still flows beneath the trees
The difference is
The oak is baren
The shiny bench is covered in moss
The leaves now lie beneath my feet
The place now lacks the presence of life
Though our laughter still echoes
Haunting the place of our childhood haven
poem by Humna Hamid
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
That Early Morning
under the trees
you tread upon a heap of leaves
only a few feet walked on this path
the winds came and gave a hush
it has been this way
since
meanwhile some rays of light
begin to pierce crevices between
touchy
the leaves fall like a confetti
you remember
once when freedom first arrived
in the streets of the city
you hear the shouts of joy
for liberation
you remember opening hands
some fists
it is over now
and what you have are the sounds of footsteps
on the heaps of leaves
on this path
where no one likes to tread again
you are
alone again but stronger this time
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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!
Little Sister
Take my hand little sister
I will protect you from evil
the eyes are always watching
hands always grabbing
reaching from the ground to pull you
deep down under
below to the abyss beneath the feet
of the path you walk
so take my hand little sister
I will protect you
Call me a fallen angel
but it was for you I fell
My soul painted black with love
keeps me tainted
Although my hands are red
Please take it
I beg of you little sister
Let me protect you
They have said some things about me
Some of them true,
most of them true
yet they were all for you
I fell once and i will do so again
for you
Don't be like me little sister
Don't be like me
Let me protect you little sister
A demon to save you
from your demons
Kill me little sister
take my hand
poem by Svanhildur Njálsdóttir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Wood Road
If I were to walk this way
Hand in hand with Grief,
I should mark that maple-spray
Coming into leaf.
I should note how the old burrs
Rot upon the ground.
Yes, though Grief should know me hers
While the world goes round,
It could not if truth be said
This was lost on me:
A rock-maple showing red,
Burrs beneath a tree.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Wild Stampede
Along an avenue of oaks,
branches lay strewn upon the ground.
High winds had ripped each from their base,
hurling them madly, all around.
They snapped beneath our tramping feet,
and under wheels obsessed with speed.
Severing leaves with violent force,
then crushing them. One wild stampede.
Chaos everywhere is seen.
Disorder below stately trees.
So sad to see their stalwart trunks,
which gales turned into amputees.
But somehow these tall giants remain,
bringing forth new growth, fourscore.
All that was lost during the storm,
is replenished, just like before.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As If They Have Their Own Identity
All of the Autumn leaves that fall from their mother tree
Are shaped so very differently
As if each has their own identity
At least that's how they seem to me.
In the cool gusts of the freshening winds they blow
Along the footpath fast and then quite slow
As if searching for a final resting place
On the Nature strip or in stormwater drain for to hide their wrinkled face.
Their span of time is brief so quick to meet decay
And in Nature's bosom within weeks they rot away
And off of their compost insects and beetles will live
When Nature takes in other ways she give.
Leaves too have life despite what some might say
And all things of life return to earth one day
And though they have life cells they do not have a mind
But they serve some purpose just like human kind.
I hear them rustle on their invisible feet
The dead dry leaves that are blown down the street
All of different shapes and sizes though from the one mother tree
As if they have their own identity.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Death
To the souls who live beneath our feet
To souls burdened by the dreadful dirt.
When I think of thee my heart beat
My soul to the ground, I feel thy hurt.
Through sympathy I think
Thou know the end of mirth
And life here and what it's worth
Please! speak to me so I may give birth
To thy anguish above on beautiful earth.
Me received no reply but a deep buried sigh…
For the leaden stone covers thy head
The squalid worms live in thy bed
I see thou drink from the roots of flowers
and thy see each one to its final hours.
As time passes
Slumber do thee too
Under the pure white snow
where frigid frost freezes thy bones
into an icy blue
I feel your pain can never move;
a pain no living soul can ever know….
Suddenly I hear a voice murmur from inside of me...
Thou speak quietly while we sleep in peace
And in our memories thou silent voices cease
Till we see a name carved on grave's cement stone
Thou souls beneath remain unknown
My Love reaches the depths of death's dark seat but my life lives upon my light feet... never again will I love, but always shall I live? I hope...
To the souls whom I love beneath my feet
May I tread softly and saunter sweetly as if life's a treat.
Till the death's knight comes again to ravenously eat
My flesh away, then only and then
I swear our souls shall meet again.....
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Duo
What a coincidence!
Today Dara Singh
Died and today
Was my children's
Sports Day!
Reminds me
Once again
That sports
Would go on
So would life
And these stalwarts
Who are well-renowned
Wrestlers can win every
Championship in life,
And remain defending
Champions for life...
But when it comes to
Grappling with death
They simply don't
Stand a chance...
Once again a
Stark reminder
That man has a
Long way to go
When it comes to
Wrestling with death
And winning the ultimate
Trophy in the final duel
With the unrelenting duo
- Senility and Mortality -
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Dream
I dreamed that I ws dead and crossed the heavens,--
Heavens after heavens with burning feet and swift,--
And cried: "O God, where art Thou?" I left one
On earth, whose burden I would pray Thee lift."
I was so dead I wondered at no thing,--
Not even that the angels slowly turned
Their faces, speechless, as I hurried by
(Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned);
Nor, at the first, that I could not find God,
Because the heavens stretched endlessly like space.
At last a terror siezed my very soul;
I seemed alone in all the crowded place.
Then, sudden, one compassionate cried out,
Though like the rest his face from me he turned,
As I were one no angel might regard
(Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned):
"No moew in heaven than earth will he find God
Who does not know his loving mercy swift
But waits the moment consummate and ripe,
Each burden, from each human soul to lift."
Though I was dead, I died again for shame;
Lonely, to flee from heaven again I turned;
The ranks of angels looked away from me
(Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned).
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Autumns Tryst
We often strolled along this beaten path
Especially in autumn; Oftentimes
For miles. Our steps crushing the leaves beneath
Our feet, releasing magic fragrances.
We’d whiff the fall bouquet, and sniff again,
Then stop to kiss. These things we did before
So many times together... our domain.
A coexistent couple, what is more,
We are an integral part of autumn
As trees and colored leaves, gentle breezes
As God intended. To benignly come
Together like a painting that pleases
The artist. Sauntering with hand in hand
In love. In autumns blissful promised land.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Autumnal Simile
The leaves that in the lonely walks were spread,
Starting from off the ground beneath the tread,
Coursed o'er the garden-plain;
Thus, sometimes, 'mid the soul's deep sorrowings,
Our soul a moment mounts on wounded wings,
Then, swiftly, falls again.
poem by Victor Hugo
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!
Love & Maple Syrup
Love and maple syrup goes together
Like the sticky winds of winter when they meet
When lonely lovers come to rest
Beneath the trees they do their best
But still they cant be free
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
If you go into the forest, gaze up through the leaves
And see the sky thats almost wild
You must learn to understand
What makes the forest greet the man
Like a mothers only child
In the north when when winters claw
Relaxes now to keep the laws of nature in control
People come and stand in line
To rob the forest of her wine
But they dont feel the cold
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
Love and maple syrup goes together
Like the sticky winds of winter when they meet
When lonely lovers come to rest
Beneath the trees they do their best
But still they cant be free
Love and maple syrup shine like
Embers warm, like thoughts divine
They tell us it is spring
Love and maple syrup stir
The thoughts of people into words
Of songs that they can sing
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Leaves
The leaves are falling one and one,
Each like a life to me,
As over-soonly in the sun
They spiral goldenly:
So airily and warily
They falter free.
The leaves are falling two and two,
Beneath a baleful sky;
So silently the sward they strew,
Reluctantly they die . . .
Rich crimson leaves,--and no one grieves
There doom but I.
The leaves are falling three and three
Beneath the mothlike moon;
They flutter downward silverly
In muted rigadoon;
And russet dry remote they lie
From feathered tune.
The leaves are lying numberless,
Disconsolately dead;
Where lucent was their sylvan dress
And lightsome was their tread,
They rot below the bitter snow,
Uncomforted.
A leaf's a life, and one by one
They drift each darkling day;
Rare friends who lusted in the sun
Are frailing fast away . . .
How sadly soon will mourn the moon
My dark decay!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Changing Seasons.
On Thanksgiving day it shone brightly
And the following day it disappeared;
Lately, the mornings had become cooler and so had the nights;
The squirrels seemed to get busier and hurried,
Now l think l understand:
For the sun shines no more on the island!
Yet l see it still in the yellow and brown leaves
Of the maple trees that are strewn on the ground.
Soft winds mourn and the poor robin grieves.
In a battle they will sure lose sooner than later,
Shades of red leaves cling tightly to the stems;
One by one they let go and to the ground they clutter.
The light rains are a wonder;
Such sweet music all day and into the night!
In my dreams, as the season changes,
When my mind is relieved of the body asleep,
How so joyously l dance to mbira and marimba music!
And for each new day l am grateful;
Grateful for the gift of life;
Grateful for my family and friends the world over...
poem by Tafadzwa Matamba
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bow Before My Death
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
He takes my hand,
And holds me close,
Death embraces me,
He says the time has come,
Beginning now meets end,
He says the fires taken me,
And now it's time to walk,
Walk the path of fates sweet song.
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
The fires stripped me of my sins,
Humility my pride,
Now death guides me through the dark,
And speaks to me kind words,
'The pain has stopped,
It won't come back,
Your senses now are cleansed,
The soul has been washed clean',
He says the end is pleasure.
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
Death's a man clothed in blue jeans,
A white shirt stained with blood,
Death holds a knife,
Death slits my throat,
Death is the end of my beginning.
I lie beneath the flame this night.
I bow before my death.
poem by Holly Heron
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stranded (Lyrics)
Your waves come crashing down
Like a semi-auto trailer
I dive so deep in the sea
To avoid killer whales
A perfect moment here and gone
It has sailed
I'll use a hammerhead to drive
Rusty nail inside
I'm feeling the sea beneath me, beneath you
I'm feeling the sea beneath you, beneath me
Imagine if our world was blue and weightless
I never meant to do wrong to you
You're my starfish
You moan a tone so low beyond me
A telepathic sub-sonic frequency
I need a little air for emergency
You have to understand this urgency
I'm feeling the sea beneath me, beneath you
White sand beneath my feet
No brain between my ears
I'm feeling the sea beneath you, beneath me
I know that if I had one
I'd spare us both these years
I'm feeling the sea beneath me, beneath you
White sand beneath my feet
No brain between my ears
I'm feeling the sea beneath you, beneath me
I know that if I had one
I'd spare us both these years
A sea anemone, you're my enemy
poem by Satan's Sibling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!