My Indian Summer
Here in the Autumn of my days
My life is mellowed in a haze.
Unpleasant sights are none to clear,
Discordant sounds I hardly hear.
Infirmities like buffers soft
Sustain me tranquilly aloft.
I'm deaf to duffers, blind to bores,
Peace seems to percolate my pores.
I fold my hands, keep quiet mind,
In dogs and children joy I find.
With temper tolerant and mild,
Myself you'd almost think a child.
Yea, I have come on pleasant ways
Here in the Autumn of my days.
Here in the Autumn of my days
I can allow myself to laze,
To rest and give myself to dreams:
Life never was so sweet, it seems.
I haven't lost my sense of smell,
My taste-buds never served so well.
I love to eat - delicious food
Has never seemed one half so good.
In tea and coffee I delight,
I smoke and sip my grog at night.
I have a softer sense of touch,
For comfort I enjoy so much.
My skis are far more blues than greys,
Here in the Autumn of my days.
Here in the Autumn of my days
My heart is full of peace and praise.
Yet though I know that Winter's near,
I'll meet and greet it with a cheer.
With friendly books, with cosy fires,
And few but favourite desires,
I'll live from strife and woe apart,
And make a Heaven in my heart.
For Goodness, I have learned, is best,
And should by Kindness be expressed.
And so December with a smile
I'll wait and welcome, but meanwhile,
Blest interlude! The Gods I praise,
For this, the Autumn of my days.
poem by Robert William Service
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Look Down
by Carole King & Toni Stern
I'm holding my hand out, keeping my head high,
Trying to get out of mechanical nights,
When I get to the top of the clear, crystal mountain,
I'm going to stay up there as long as I can.
And look down,
Dig in the sights all around,
Listen to all of the sounds and look down,
And look down and look in.
And my mind sends me reeling, breathing and feeling,
I remember the time when I tried to come clean,
But my interests collided, besides I was misguided,
And who do you confide in when you trip on a dream?
And look down,
Dig in the sights all around,
Listen to all of the sounds and look down,
And look down and look in.
If you want to come with me and tell me what you see,
Just step in beside me and do what you want,
And you may see clearly, though it sometimes is lonely,
To be free is the only possession that counts.
I'm holding my hand out, I'm keeping my head high,
Trying to get out of mechanical nights,
When I get to the top of the clear, crystal mountain,
I'm going to stay up there as long as I can.
Dig in the sights all around,
Listen to all of the sounds and look down,
And look down,
And look down,
And look down,
Look down,
Look down,
Look down,
Hold on, I'm coming.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What If
What if sunshine
Perchance, made a sound…
What kind of sound
Wouldst one think It to be?
Would it shriek e’er so loudly…
And pummel the ground…
Or settle like snowflakes
Drifting down… tranquilly
Pray tell, what sound…
Would clouds and haze make
Would they screech and grind
Mayhaps rasp and scrape?
What if…fog made a thoughtful thrum
And mist an insistent hiss…
And rainbows the sound of a blowing nose
What, the sound… of scent of rose… consist?
What if… a look of awe… made noise
And an angry stare could thunder?
What would be the sound of toys
And what the sound of plunder?
What if…one could hear a moonbeam
Or perceive the sound of a shooting star
And what if only fools and idiots could hear them
Would they know how lucky (or cursed) They are?
What if… only a select favored few
Could opt to hear
this other-worldly hymn
And the choice was offered up to you
What if…the sounds ne’er heard
Could be sounds rung loud and true
Ne’er heard in fact or word…except
By fools and idiots…and you!
poem by David Whalen
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Word Of Autumn.
The colder wind today brought word of change.
With Autumn on its way soft blossoms shrink.
Berries dropp their plump hued heads in phases,
And shorter days pull Autumn to its brink.
The sun sheds less its brightness in full streams.
Pine trees sigh, branching closer to the ground.
Early morning grass recalls frosty dreams.
Autumn hunkers closer with autumn sounds.
Light hearth's cosy warmth, pull covers higher.
One of Autumn's blessings is a blazing fire.
Running Out Of Days
Theres too much work and Im spent
Theres too much pressure and I admit
I got no time to move ahead
Have you heard one thing that Ive said
And all these little things in life they all create this haze
Theres too many things to get done, and Im running out of days
And I cant last here for so long
I feel this current its so strong
It gets me further down the line
It gets me closer to the line
And all these little things in life they all create this haze
Theres too many things to get done, and Im running out of days
All these little things in life they all create this haze
Theres too many things to get done, and Im running out of days
Will all these little things in life they all create this haze
And now Im running out of time I cant see through this haze
My friend tell me why it has to be this way
Theres too many things to get done, and Im running out of days
song performed by by 3 Doors Down
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Was One of Those Fine October Days
It was one of those fine October days
free from summer’s heat and haze
but not yet gripped by autumn chill.
It was one of those fine October days
when the sky’s so clear
you can see the moon
through the atmosphere
at midday.
It was one of those fine October days
when the trees sport yellow and red
instead of everyday summer green.
It was one of those fine October days
when one draws a deep breath
and is grateful
to be resident on Earth.
poem by Richard Greene
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Three At The Door
Door bell chimes its discordant tune
ringing in still light, in month of June,
doors open wide, with sight alive
to coloured visions in my mind.
Ears receiving sounds of kinds
children's play and traffic bound
songs birding in birches' branched out hands.
I thought back to days on balmy nights
where we'd danced to disco'd sounds;
three stood at my door
their words as like a trumpet call
with sounds that tinkled, hard to find
amid the drumming in my mind.
Not them again, not them, not them,
them... them....them, them, them.
The beat drowned out the bugled call.
Not hearing words or seeing true
coloured eyes with blinded mind
I did not hear to know what they said
just listened to those drums
resounding in my head.
They came bringing salvation of their kind,
a salvation I must find?
I smiled received a saviours' pamphlet
bid them well, their buttons shined,
in my mind discordant chimes
ringing in still light of June.
poem by David Taylor
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The Splendor Of The Days
Sweet and shrill the crickets hiding in the grasses brown and lean
Pipe their gladness-sweeter, shriller-one would think the world was green.
O the haze is on the hilltops, and the haze is on the lake!
See it fleeing through the valley with the bold wind in its wake!
Mark the warm October haze!
Mark the splendor of the days!
And the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!
See the bare hills turn their furrows to the shine and to the glow;
If you listen you can hear it, hear a murmur soft and low-
'We are naked,' so the fields say, 'stripped of all our golden dress.'
'Heed it not,' October answers, 'for I love ye none the less.
Share my beauty and my cheer
While we rest together here,
In these sun-filled days of languor, in these late days of the year.'
All the splendor of the summer, all the springtime's light and grace,
All the riches of the harvest, crown her head and light her face;
And the wind goes sighing, sighing, as if loath to let her pass,
While the crickets sing exultant in the lean and withered grass.
O the warm October haze!
O the splendor of the days!
O the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!
poem by Jean Blewett
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Stories Of Hope Series #7 Is It Golden Or Is It Blind
Silence is golden or so they say
But how many can keep quite for a full day?
What about the people who were born to preach?
What would they do if they could not teach.
Then I take the opposite view: what would you do?
If you was born deaf never hearing a sound
No birds chirping, no dogs barking, no cats meowing
No laughter. These are the things the deaf are after.
SOUNDS! sounds of music, of joy, happiness.
But I was born blind.
I had hopes to one day see, and all my classmates laughed at me.
They said: you was born in darkness, and in darkness
You will be, from now and through eternity.
I learned colors, not by sight, but by emotions
And I practiced it with devotion.
They said my mother was traumatized during
her pregnancy, and somehow it affected me.
The doctors checked and could not understand why
That I had turned out blind.
My blindness became my greatest strength
Because it fine tuned my hearing.
I am blind and the deaf can not hear
But we have instincts beyond compare.
The deaf can not hear all the sounds of the world
Including a child at play, and for
my hearing I thank GOD every day.
The school then put me with a roommate who was deaf
And we got along swell, we showed each other how
It was to live in each others hell.
He covered up my ears so that I could not hear a sound
And I learned how to get around.
I did the same thing to him and blindfolded him
So that he could not see, and with all this we lived in harmony.
By doing this we learned a lesson that no one could teach
That even being deaf and blind, they could be reached.
I showed him that with a metal tip on a walking stick
You could feel the vibrations of different things
Foot steps, cars, “even music.’
Now that he could hear through the tip of a stick
He learned to dance really quick.
And although I could not see.
I held on to his waist
And he said: “follow me.’
Now I am going for some surgery, that they said
May help me see.
HOPE has rekindled in my heart, but from my friend
I did not want to part.
He let me know that he would stay by my side
And not to give up my hope, but to continue to strive.
He was with me every step of the way, and to GOD
I did pray. I thanked my lord up above for sending
Me this friend and sharing his love.
Three weeks later they took the band aids from my eyes
And the first thing that I saw when my eyes were clear
Was my friend standing there.
Tears filled our eyes as we embraced
For I was blessed by the HOLY GRACE.
He still can not hear, but he was the best man
At my wedding, and showed all the guests how to dance
If there Is someone who will give you a chance.
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET YOU FREE
poem by Louis Rams
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Love of Autumn Days
In soft autumn days
I play in the leaves
Spraying them high
Allowing them to filter
Through my stretched fingers
Yellow, orange, and red
Beauty within spread
Happiness in the cool air
Affording great wisps
Blowing in the breeze
Living a long life
Desiring days like these
Where peace and tranquility
Flow from beginning to end
Holding these memories
Deep in our minds
To frequently recall
The love of autumn days
poem by Russell Sivey
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Autumn Fair
You long to see bright Autumn days,
With colorful leaves on yonder trees
In tones of yellow, orange and red
Before Nature's annual freeze.
The colors will burst in every direction,
The tree boughs no longer are green,
Nuts dropping to the leaf strewn ground
Where large, orange pumpkins now are seen.
You long want to see the hues of an Autumn Fair
And the bright sun rising above the distant hill.
You long feel the coolness on your cheeks,
to hear the wind's steady shrill.
Autumn waves her magic wand,
The aroma of leaves you will consume,
The enchanting days of summer are gone,
The land is overwhelmed by Nature's perfume.
There are memories of other Autumn days
That your heart will recall as you ponder,
The gigantic trees and the dropping leaves
As they gave you a special moment of wonder.
But now - you sit before a window
Watching the soft and steady precipitation,
Far from the picturesque Autumn days -
Snow accumulating without any hesitation.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Faces
the ripples
in the clear blue lake
God is smiling
the fleece in
the clear blue sky
God is caring
the haze...
the haze
God is fuming
this first meet between us
i see your biases too
they infiltrate every cell
of your face
clear as sky
your darting eyes
they carry bars
that weigh down
your trust
never for one instance they
rest on mine
and your heart
it comes over clear as
the glasses between us
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Days in Red
Days days days in red
In days days days ahead
The sun is in autumn light
And moon of glowing dark
Sky deep and high
Days days days in red
Flowing on hours in night
Where love lost its flight
Once those were alright
Now they no more spark
Days days days in red
In days days days ahead
The sun is in autumn light
Is there a horizon of ignite
Where hours go on by
Days days days in red
Flowing memories at sight
No feeling seems now right
But love's still inside
Come come babe now close abide
Days days days in red
In days days days ahead
The sun is in autumn light
Is there a horizon of ignite
Where hours go on by
Days days days in red
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The Sounds
I can hear her heart beat
It seams a little strong
I can hear the things I did wrong
I can hear her thoughts
By looking in her eyes
I can hear her all the times she cried
I can hear the memories
As they echo off the wall
Falling from the pictures down the hall
I can hear regret
Building up in side of me
And I can hear all the things
I could not see
Those are the sounds of a woman leaving
Stronger then the wind in a willow tree
Those are the sounds of a heart breaking
You can't hear it
But the noise is killing me
I should of heard it coming
But I chose to pretend
I should of recognizes that sound
Way back then
But I just wouldn't listen didn't want to all those years
Now the truth is ringing clear
In my ears
Those are the sounds of a woman leaving
Stronger then the wind in willow tree
Those are the sounds of a heart breaking
You can't hear it
But the noise is killing me
Those are the sounds of a heart breaking
You can't hear it
But the noise is killing me
I can hear it
And the silent is killing me
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On This Beautiful Day
The waves of saltwater lap up on the sand
On this beautiful day in a beautiful Land
on the drying kelp and sea weed starlings search for sea lice and sand flies
And the calm coastal air full of silver gull cries
The sun shining bright 'tis a beautiful day
And the weather is warm for late Autumn and May
The wattlebirds call on the banksia trees
On a perfect day with only a slight breeze
The Autumn all but gone and the Winter is near
But this is such a beautiful time of the year
One of Nature's most beautiful sounds for to hear
The flute of the magpie melodious and clear
And how nice for to hear the song of the peewee
On this beautiful day in the park by the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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No Truth
I've forgotten of how truth sounds,
Some memories lay on my heart,
Distant, as lived through some other life
There are some fractured pieces
covered with lies.
I have forgotten truth's mild voice
And her appearance is fading too.
I stay phased in days
Weighing good from bad
Wrong from right
No truth to hold my hand and clear my sight.
I want to live and i want to die
No guides to lead
No comfort to soften the haze,
No truth to cool off the ablaze.
poem by Daria Domitrovic
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It's haze, hard haze...
It's haze, hard haze,
As a veil as a shroud...
And there, in two steps,
It is war behind the haze.
And the battles go on,
But we can't take part in them,
We're absolutly chained by haze to earth now -
We are the air workers of the war.
It's haze, hard haze
On past events, on life.
And so far, in distant land
There is our house fine.
And in front dugout hut
We are dreaming of the child,
That we were in past, but now we to adults grown -
We are the air workers of the war.
It's haze, grey haze...
It will come and again.
And so far in distant land
There is love behind the haze.
And the brides will wait for long,
When we could from war return,
And, alas, not all will then return to home...
We are the air workers of the war...
song, music by A. Kolker, lyrics by K. Ryzhov, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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Big Town
I discovered a big town
On the crest of a wave
Throwing money at strangers
Taking candy from babes
Shaking hands in a big top
As the rain came down
I though it would not stop
Sending letters to paris
From the empire state
Taking pictures from the top
Theres alot of things
For you to do
Theres alot of dreams
That wont come true
I grew up in a big town
The lessons were not hard to learn
If you want them to love you
Then you must not love them in return
Spent the night at a party
Where I drank so much
I fell under your spell
Eight oclock in the morning
And the daylight makes me
Look and feel like hell
Theres alot of things
For you to do
Theres alot of dreams
That wont come true
Theres alot of things
For you to do
Theres alot of dreams
That wont come true
When you live in a big town
There are sights and sounds
That make you want to cry
When you live in a big town
There are sights and sounds
That make you want to cry
When you live in a big town
There are sights and sounds
That make you want to cry
When you live in a big town
There are sights and sounds
That make you want to cry
song performed by by Omd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dream
I dreamt of autumn in the window's twilight,
And you, a tipsy jesters' throng amidst. '
And like a falcon, having stooped to slaughter,
My heart returned to settle on your wrist.
But time went on, grew old and deaf. Like thawing
Soft ice old silk decayed on easy chairs.
A bloated sunset from the garden painted
The glass with bloody red September tears.
But time grew old and deaf. And you, the loud one,
Quite suddenly were still. This broke a spell.
The dreaming ceased at once, as though in answer
To an abruptly silenced bell.
And I awakened. Dismal as the autumn
The dawn was dark. A stronger wind arose
To chase the racing birchtrees on the skyline,
As from a running cart the streams of straws.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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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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Autumn Rain
While I sit here and ponder
I don’t see I’m drowning in my pain,
I was blinded by the sorrow
My tears have left a pool and a stain,
My heart was left broken
My mind was in a darkened haze
I’m sitting here dwelling in my final phase
Far away from my glory days
Ingrained in my mind
Are deep memories of pain,
The days of yesteryear bridges never fade away
A painful tragedy like thunder in my veins
But never are they washed away by the rain,
They embody me and so are here to stay
I lost myself so long ago
There’s no one I can blame
Autumn rain falls on me with
An eternal sunrise that never climbs
Autumn rain coming down
Another shattered soul in the lost and found
I feel I’m vanishing, vanishing gone
In autumn rain
I feel I’m vanishing, vanishing gone
In autumn rain
poem by Daniel Richards
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