About November 22nd,1963...
Watching forensic post-mortems of brain-spill......from his skull
My mind echoed back to that dark November, Friday.....in '63
Chaos...ruling an autumn knoll....grey imbruing a rich pink dress
Men in black suits, and smoked ray-bans......with magnums drawn
Won't ever be a November Autumn in Dallas, like the one in '63
I remember my Father saying, he'd have voted for him....in '64
Would have been the first time (he said) , that he broke party line
It be forty-eight years this twenty-second of November....My God
Makes me realize.....this scar will forever be scored thru' the Soul's
Of those like me, a child.....yet how we matured in year's that day
From the shocking news that as mortal life....we all shared as one
Without difference to colour, culture, lifestyle, politics.......or creed
Made me mealancholy.......wondering where God's world had gone
That our Heart's 'only' be bonded.........through self-fear and travesty
Like they did, on that Autumn noon in Texas......
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Related quotes
Pirouetting Autumn
The tree blushed - a rude blast of air
Betrayed a shapely bough.
My saddened heart aware
That Nature's clock was chiming,
I froze upon the twelfth
Clanging tone, caught alone,
Staring at a creaking door -
Left ajar for dancing, coloured Autumn,
Pirouetting in her leaves,
While agitated summer creatures
Backed away resignedly,
Sighing in protracted breves.
I turned; gave company;
We stood together, watching
Summer slowly blow away.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
A utumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Down Lo Ho (Interlude)
Featuring The Refugee All Stars
I wanna dedicate this song,
gone til november,
to all you ladies out there,
crying all alone in your room,
and all you fellas,
goin down south, and not making it back,
may the lord bless your soul.
Every time I make a run,
girl you turn around and cry,
I ask myself why oh why,
see you must understand,
I cant work a 9 to 5,
so ill be gone til november,
said ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
janurary, feburary, march, april, may,
I see you crying but girl i cant stay,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
and give a kiss to my mother,
girl I gotta leave please dont cry,
when I come back you know the limits the sky,
ill take you out to dinner to your favorite spot,
fejuion and fateesion just to get you high,
drive by movies by the cemetary,
if my corps could talk then i'd tell him I was sorry,
life stories of the rich and famous,
some guy with the name some guy name less,
every time I make a run,
girl you turn around and cry,
I ask myself why oh why,
see you must understand,
I cant work a 9 to 5,
so ill be gone til november,
said ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
janurary, feburary, march, april, may,
I see you crying but girl I cant stay,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
yo give a kiss to my mother,
we are none had to do some,
so im knocking on h
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet November
Sweet november.. you stole my heart
I let it go with all the fear and doubt
Sweet november.. you opened my mind
With all the sweetness that you left behind
And I'm living, with a vision of you
All the days grow colder, but I know
It's not the way I'm holding on but how I'm letting go
And how I will remember
Sweet november
And now you're with me
You're with me in the sun
I'm a baby in a world that's just begun
And now you're with me
You're with me in the rain
I'm so glad that I will never be the same
Cause I'm living with a vision of you
All the leaves are falling, falling down like snow
It's not the way I'm holding on it's how I'm letting go
But how, I will remember
Sweet november
Sweet november
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moment of Clarity
I remember, one November we had our picnic
At the graveyard down your street
On the bodies under our feet
And the cold grey ancient autumn ships
Looked down without a frown
It laughed down without a sound
While the sun hit her face in disgrace
She doesn't see the competition from the human race
Competition from the human race
And now youre wondering, where's it going to end
And now youre wondering, could we begin again
While the laser of immortality, it burns through
All our memories, it cuts through what we want to see
As we spin on our axes
A moment of clarity is all that's required of me
And all other places and other times, they're
Waving goodbye, goodbye
So send me your autumn pledge and please me
Till winter time and I'll send you a
Springtime boy
song performed by by 13 Engines, music by John Critchley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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November Nights
September nights
Tend to scream
'Baby I thought you
Said you loved me'
October nights
Remind me
Of 'we' the 'us':
So in love.
November nights
November nights
What A fright
November nights
Ending of my present life
Nothing ever seemed so right
I need you by my side
I died, I died on November nights
September nights
what a wonderful thing
My beginning
How Ironic.
My birth day
Our beginning
Oh what a wonderful month
September means love
October nights
Oh so beautiful
Happiness, hope
A whole family
My daddies' birthdays
One here, one deceased
Praised and mourned
Mixed Octobers
November nights
Panic. Thanksgiving.
Thanks for what?
November killed my father
November nights
A car crash
14 years ago
And then you end me
November nights
November nights
What A fright
November nights
Literal ending of his life
Nothing ever seems all right
Momma needed him by her side
He died, He died on a November night
poem by Gabriella Franco
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Autumn Feels
Autumn just painted the land in rainbows
Colorful leaves play in such a splendid season
Shading my head with delightful thoughts
Memories evoke in sweetness of the fall
Dancing and waving leaves
Swinging and singing breeze
Transform my soul to vibrant ruminations
Rich…….Soft…….Cooling colors
My eyes yearning for reconciliation
Found its space while lying beneath the fallen glade
Of autumn leaves….of autumn season on my skin
25th of November,2009
poem by Catrina Heart
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Inner Peace
The morning in late autumn
misty and a little cold
much like the mind
slightly depressed and lone.
The landscape vague, unclear,
the earth seems pensive and gloomy
as it lies before me
like my life's november.
The rays of the rising sun
sweep away the morning mist,
all appear tranquil and bright.
My hopes with it return.
There goes the reaper
walking along the road
that leads to the paddy field,
trailing behind him is the gleaner.
I see(lying) on the courtyard floor
sheaves of paddy backed by the autumn sun
brown and a pale golden
and the soft and happy eyes of my father.
Standing beside him is my mother,
both beholding proudly the fruits of their toil,
father loved to be called son of the soil.
The pictures are still crystal clear,
only tucked away at other times
in some remote corner of my mind,
fountain of happiness, , when my heart is saddened
they are presented before the eyes.
As my heart bleeds
those happy autumns appear and disappear
just like my life's november
while I search for inner peace.
poem by Aimanu Begum
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The night I will always remember
Wednesday night at nine thirty
Terror sailed into my city.
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
Gripped with fear, panic and despair…
Grenades and bullets in the air.
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
Tourists slaughtered on their vacation
Everyday folk massacred on a railway station
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
Babies slaughtered in their mother’s womb
Five star hotels have become a mass tomb
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
Children orphaned, a rabbi dead
Terrorists feeling no regret
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
Brave hearts butchered, lives in disarray
One night that lasted three whole days
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
My city is battered
My faith in every politician, shattered
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
poem by Sherrie Marker
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Raking Leaves
Look to the tallest tree
and see how the noon-day sun
glints through slender grey limbs
to where leafless Life contracts
to its tender core
(this year’s ring
complete)
and waits for winter’s storms.
Leaves lie,
golden harvest, luxuriant carpet
to kick and scatter like
brittle snow...
... years ago
playing through long autumn days,
we built castles and smashed them,
diving deep into fragrant mounds
as the incense of burn piles
filled the chilled air of November.
Today I just rake,
scraping turf
making smaller heaps to haul
into my big green recycle bin
and see how golden autumn light
softly glows in gleaming grass,
free at last
from the detritus
of summer.
poem by Steven Federle
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November Rain
November rain washed away my guilt
November rain washed away my pain
November rain - so tired I felt
November rain was not just any rain
Long I longed with deep torment
For so long my body waited
November rain, , , , Oh, sweet friend
November rain- slowly I faded.
November rain- I cried within
Steady and slowly, it kept on pouring
November rain, watered my skin
And deep inside, I heard my roaring.
November rain, it refused to quit
November rain kept on pouring
And alone outside, in the streets I wept-
dripping... dripping and falling.
poem by Amy Phillip
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Autumn Came
By ripping cheeks,
with cold breeze,
with twitter of sparrows,
Autumn came!
Autumn came to cover
shivering earth
with colorful leaves carpet!
Autumn floats like
sun's epitaph
Autumn echoed like
farewell song of birds
in the evening!
Autumn touches the
breath of last leaves
on the verge of falling
with warmth!
Autumn challenges the
confidence of the tree
who hides buds in the heart
poem by Mula Veereswara Rao
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Hope Is Not For The Wise
Hope is not for the wise, fear is for fools;
Change and the world, we think, are racing to a fall,
Open-eyed and helpless, in every newscast that is the news:
The time's events would seem mere chaos but all
Drift the one deadly direction. But this is only
The August thunder of the age, not the November.
Wise men hope nothing, the wise are naturally lonely
And think November as good as April, the wise remember
That Caesar and even final Augustulus had heirs,
And men lived on; rich unplanned life on earth
After the foreign wars and the civil wars, the border wars
And the barbarians: music and religion, honor and mirth
Renewed life's lost enchantments. But if life even
Had perished utterly, Oh perfect loveliness of earth and heaven.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Owen's Street~
Today, basking in the bright sunshine of Texas
Upon this late November day, i feel complete
Embracing hearth and home ever so deeply
Right here, in my home on Owen's Street;
I know, i know, i could have lived in Dallas
Or even in Dorothy's Kansas or Jesting Oklahoma
But, i choose Coolidge as my home sweet home
Although sometimes, i do long to be in Roma;
But all kidding aside, my friends and foe
I do digress, way, way too much
For it is so true, as i, was once without a clue
On this bright November day, i am at last completely in touch;
By: Theodora Onken
November 24,2012
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Cordell
She stands alone,
In the autumn rain.
Watching her life walk away.
The soft thud of,
Slowly disappearing dreams,
On the street.
Dreams muffled,
By the autumn rain.
Slowly fading in the twilight.
He won't look back,
There is something in his eye.
The autumn rain.
A voice deep down says,
Turn around you fool.
As the autumn rain falls.
The mustang sits by the curb,
Rain dripping like tears,
From the windshield.
Even his car is crying,
The car with her smell,
The car she loved so.
He gets in and sits behind the wheel,
And the autumn rain comes again.
Inside the car, briney salty, rain.
Looking in the rearview mirror,
He sees her silhouette.
Through his tears and the autumn rain.
Slowly the fastback pulls away,
From the curb.
Leaving her standing by the Cordell,
In the autumn rain.
8/12/12 Alton Texas.
poem by Juan Olivarez
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That Year's Autumn Leaves
Darling, do you remember that year’s autumn leaves?
Perhaps it was your aura, but they were the prettiest and keenest I’ve ever seen
Strolling through the park, hand in hand, the foliage crunched lightly under our feet
Such a simple, yet transcendent, treat
That year’s autumn leaves were red and gold
Thinking of them now strikes a pleasant, if somewhat melancholic, chord
The days you walked with me like the Lord
And you were
That year’s autumn leaves and you
Contentedness shared by us two
Harmonic Convergence bestowed on the lucky few
Peace of mind that I knew
Nat King Cole said it best: “Since you went away the days grow long…”
This is evidenced by many of my poems and songs
Many people, sometimes myself, think I should stop, that it’s wrong
The creative outlet, however, is too strong
That year’s autumn leaves were actually summer daze
I just love the original song, and now this unique turn of phrase
Both recall an almost alien phase
Mr. Mercer, I give you all the praise
That year’s autumn leaves were you
They may not have existed, but it’s a metaphor any romantic would die for
I would
Would you?
That year’s autumn leaves were the best autumn has ever produced
At least until we walk in the park in the fall again…or whenever you choose
poem by Yoni Assis
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Autumn Is Brown!
The colour of Autumn is brown
Like the leaves of Spring are crown!
The colour of Winter is white
Like the Summer heat at its height!
Falling dry leaves are symbol of Autumn
After flowers of Spring with bees hum!
Autumn is the symbol of wisdom ever
After rich growth of fruits in Spring sure!
Rain in Autumn is joyful as in heaven
Just as for the birds trees are haven!
Autumn ever denotes mental maturity
Just as fully grown flowers of beauty!
poem by Ramesh T A
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0173 Memory's fast rewind
Sometimes memory
runs back like an instant fast rewind
like it’s said to do at death
and hits you wham between the eyes
with your own life
today – what, November 19 – I was
chilling out in the pub
again
relaxing into life
and there, framed in the window was
a lady (as she was today) crossing the road
dressed, this cool-cold day, in black tights and
a woollen two-piece suit in Christmas red, and
the red…
took me back so many years
that I didn’t know whether to be grateful
for the glimpse, or
regret the fast grey years between…
it must have been when I was two and a half
and for the first time in my life
my parents sought a hint
(first time in their lives too)
about The Big One for my Christmas –
walked oh so casually with me through
the glittering store as if for
no-one, everyone, anyone
but me … and there it was –
the pedal car in gleaming, buy-me red
with all the details I still can’t bear to describe
enamelled like a glimpse of paradise
and sure enough, come Christmas Day
there it was – except –
(I punctuate like Emily D when out of breath…)
in blue
how can a child be adult enough to be
grateful for a second-best? And how
can parents be a child again and know?
I had forgotten until now how the seasons had their colours –
pink Valentines almost merging into complex mauve in
Easter cards, and icing, marzipan, and yellow chicks, summer days
needing no coloured herald but the sun
then autumn colours ambivalent
with the apprehension of new classes, and
new threats…
and all this time, at just this time of year
Christmas red shouts loud its herald’s trumpet
of paradise; promised; lost;
perhaps, regained
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Season of Mists
I thank you for your view of a view of autumn, Keats
who never saw your own autumn with its actual pitfalls.
Yours was the autumn of childhood, of hope, or romance, of belief,
my mother's autumn though not that of her hardworking family,
yours was never my father's autumn, season of mists,
and yours is not mine. My autumn
for all I would like to subscribe to your lavish play,
is like yours only in single ways each year,
perhaps there are swallows making a din,
or plums and apples falling wasp-eaten, unharvestable.
There is no sickle in my vocabulary or shed,
my autumn is based more on dread of the winter
and having had so little time each summer
to tidy or attend to the garden. Last year
early snow fell on flower baskets ditched from the street
and remained both snow and baskets until the spring
leaving me two seasons behind, without strategy
for a fast approaching repeat autumn, little wonder
and no chance to make anything faintly rhyme,
such is our modern poetry and life
poem by Sally Evans
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Still Mid-August
It's still mid-August
but in my heart
it's already November
for you have brought me
the coldness of autumn
with your goodbye.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Autumn leaf loss sere,
enwrapping next year's seedling,
ensures spear sprouting
(8 November 2008)
haiku by Jonathan Robin (08 November 2008)
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