When autumn returned
She wore last year's dress again
Of milliard hues
haiku by Dorothy Holmes (24 May 2008)
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Crying In Your Wedding Dress
The roads always run wet this time of year
Not with rain - with tears
Crying in your wedding dress
Tearing your hair out
The park was always freezing-over around now
Not with winter - with the pain
Of pulling off your ring
Screaming your lungs out
You wore that dress for 16 hours
You wore it too long
You wore it when you arrived
And you wore it when you woke up
I wore my invisible jacket
My invisible trousers
My invisible smile
All day
On our wedding day
The prototype for this event
The blueprint of this heart-ache
Is sketched so deeply in my mind
There was no other way it could be
On our wedding day
I was walking, drunk, stumbling
You were crying in your wedding dress
I was gone, I was never really there
You were crying in your wedding dress
I was broke for any feeling
You were broke for any hope
Crying in your wedding dress
On our wedding day
(2008)
poem by B. Alexander
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In Her Autumn
without trembling,
without resistance,
in the autumn,
every autumn,
year after year,
a tree offers up its living adornment –
that which it has given birth to, nurtured,
and seen transform for the past six months.
and you can see the wisdom of her perfect surrender in her face,
the character lines
of seasons spent living,
giving to Nature,
drawn out across her bark.
And I know a Woman
whose face is deep with meaning,
radiating nature’s beauty,
simple, solid, stalwart.
She gives of her strength and solace
to anyone who approaches Her;
And in her Autumn,
Her dress will fall,
and she will surrender completely
to that which God wills, to that which must come to all.
poem by Marc Mannheimer
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The Parting Day
I.
SOME busy hands have brought to light,
And laid beneath my eye,
The dress I wore that afternoon
You came to say good-by.
About it still there seems to cling
Some fragrance unexpressed,
The ghostly odor of the rose
I wore upon my breast;
And, subtler than all flower-scent,
The sacred garment holds
The memory of that parting day
Close hidden in its folds.
The rose is dead, and you are gone,
But to the dress I wore
The rose's smell, the thought of you,
Are wed forevermore.
II.
That day you came to say good-by
(A month ago! It seems a year!)
How calm I was! I met your eye,
And in my own you saw no tear.
You heard me laugh and talk and jest,
And lightly grieve that you should go;
You saw the rose upon my breast,
But not the breaking heart below.
And when you came and took my hand,
It scarcely fluttered in your hold.
Alas, you did not understand!
For you were blind, and I was cold.
And now you cannot see my tears,
And now you cannot hear my cry.
A month ago? Nay, years and years
Have aged my heart since that good-by.
poem by Edith Wharton
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Some Busy Hands…
I.
SOME busy hands have brought to light,
And laid beneath my eye,
The dress I wore that afternoon
You came to say good-by.
About it still there seems to cling
Some fragrance unexpressed,
The ghostly odor of the rose
I wore upon my breast;
And, subtler than all flower-scent,
The sacred garment holds
The memory of that parting day
Close hidden in its folds.
The rose is dead, and you are gone,
But to the dress I wore
The rose's smell, the thought of you,
Are wed forevermore.
II.
That day you came to say good-by
(A month ago! It seems a year!)
How calm I was! I met your eye,
And in my own you saw no tear.
You heard me laugh and talk and jest,
And lightly grieve that you should go;
You saw the rose upon my breast,
But not the breaking heart below.
And when you came and took my hand,
It scarcely fluttered in your hold.
Alas, you did not understand!
For you were blind, and I was cold.
And now you cannot see my tears,
And now you cannot hear my cry.
A month ago? Nay, years and years
Have aged my heart since that good-by.
poem by Edith Wharton
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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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In This Autumn Of The Year
In this Autumn of the year there be image
Pictorial earthtone's.....the artist's nirvana
Flecks of shades....bleed into each spray
Summer's closure.....sets on the causway
In this Autumn of the year there be breeze
Whisps feather past red cheeks 'n lobes
In contrast to the gusts.....of Winter's sting
Autumn flails its limbs...like colored wings
In this Autumn of the year, there be rainfall
A subtle, chilling mist.....that feeds the soil
Preparing, for the fast confronting Harvest
Showerings fall like angel-hair........tingling
In this Autumn of the year..... there be spice
A vast potpouri.....of kaleidoscopic majesty
Herbs 'n hickory smoke, from chimney tops
Country fairs and downtown sidewalk stops
In this Autumn of the year there be romance
Love that flowers in bond, of Soul and Spirit
Spirits of October....... Souls of Hallows Eve
Cornucopia of nature that's what Autumn be
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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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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Cactus
Sitting here
Wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that
I had just something you wore
I put it on when I go lonely
Will you take off your dress
And send it to me?
I miss your kissin
And I miss your head
And a letter in your writing
Doesnt mean youre not dead
Just run outside in the desert heat
Make your dress all wet
And send it to me
I miss your soup and I miss your bread
And a letter in your writing
Doesnt mean youre not dead
So spill your breakfast
And drip your wine
Just wear that dress when you dine
D-a-v-i-d
So, sitting here wishing
On a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore
Bloody your hands on a cactus tree
Wipeem on your dress
And send it to me
Sitting here wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Will You Remember?
Will you remember the dress I wore?
Will you remember my face?
Will you remember the lipstick I wore?
This world is a wonderful place
Will you remember the black limousine?
Will you remember champagne?
Will you remember the things that weve seen?
I will return here again
Will you remember the flowers in my hand?
Will you remember my hair?
Will you remember the future we planned?
The world is not waiting out there
I wont remember the dress I wore
I wont remember champagne
I wont remember the things that we swore
I will just love you in vain
Will you remember?
Will you recall?
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cactus
Sitting here wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore
I put it on when I go lonely
Will you take off your dress and send it to me?
I miss your kissin and I miss your head
And a letter in your writing doesnt mean youre not dead
Run outside in the desert heat
Make your dress all wet and send it to me
I miss your soup and I miss your bread
And a letter in your writing doesnt mean youre not dead
So spill your breakfast and drip your wine
Just wear that dress when youre dying
P I x I e s
Sitting here wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore
Bloody your hands on a cactus tree
Wipe it on your dress and send it to me
Sitting here wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn Leaves Changing Colors
As summer ends and autumn comes
Days get shorter, misty and cold
And in this spectacular season
Nature's beauty graciously unfold
Trees get ready to slow down
And in autumn take some rest
And show amazing colors of love
That are all at their best
Green fades away quickly
And yellow and orange appear
To show off their vibrant hues
And warmup their surrounding dear
Sunlight and cool nights of autumn
Help leaves to turn orangish red
And combine all things smoothly
To add magic in season's lovely bed
And all this shedding and replacement
Of leaves continue throughout the year
And trees only shed leaves in autumn
To prepare for another winter dear
This is God's spectacular display
Of beautiful colors of the fall
During which many changes occur
Including yellow, orange and red of all.
***Inspired by the changing colors of autumn in Canada.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Awesomeness of Autumn
Sweet Autumn heralds summer season's past,
She can't conceal the changing of her leaves
Autumnal days will hasten winter's blast
Her sunny days will ripen harvet sheaves.
Artistic Autumn paints a myriad hues,
Red, orange, yellow, pink and brown and green
She - from her pallette - has the chance to choose
Collages that no artist ever dreamed.
Majestic Autimn heralds winter's charm,
Leaves fall, trees' silhouttes revealed
Wood piles replenished in the rustic farm
Exotic fungi in the woods concealed.
Is Autumn still - best season of the year?
YES, Autumn well deserves the bonfires' cheer!
(John Knight - September 2009)
poem by John Knight
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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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Ode to Karen and the Summer
June wore her green dress, long her favorite color
the color of her ancient Roman clan
Roman Green
June wore her green dress...as my finger traced a soft essay
upon your perfect back
June wore green
Karen wore blonde
and all around us was light
the solstice was the turning point- solstice curve
poignant as the course of the sun through our summer bodies
the season of the short-lived beings
dead through the dry folds of winter
to flood to life in green vigor
I'm green as a frog, green as any new bug rushing or Mayfly lingering
June's nephews, July and August, were lulled to boredom
by wine and soft days
and left us the blessing
to wallop and play in the gardens
Karen on a summer sidewalk
or a tv show
or a dream in the light
or green eyes
poem by Jimi Doyle
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Let Me Sleep Beside You
Baby, baby, brush the dust of youth from your shoulder
Because the years of fretting days are right behind you now
Dont return to fields of green where rainbow secrets were told
Place your ragged doll with all the toys and things and deeds
I will show you a game where the winner never wins
Let your hair hang down, wear the dress your mother wore
Let me sleep beside you
Lock away your childhood and throw away the key
For now the streets and city sounds will burn your eyes as coals
We shall drink the oldest wine and velvet skies will linger
Child, youre a woman now, your heart and soul are free
I will boldly light that lamp and we shall walk together
Let your hair hang down, wear the dress your mother wore
Let me sleep beside you
Your darkened eyes throw mystery
But your lips are void of history
You could not imagine that it could happen this way, could you
I will give you dreams and Ill tell you things youll like to hear
Let your hair hang down, wear the dress your mother wore
Let me sleep beside you
Let me sleep beside you
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn’s Glow
There is something about autumn
That brings out such earthiness
Gold leaves adorn bushes and trees
Like an artist with a brilliant brush
Once the leaves dry on the trees
Then the wind begins to blow
It’s a special time of year for me
Because I love autumn so
The cold dry air it seems
Prepare the leaves to fall
Mother Nature’s special time
Yes, it’s the best of all
What a dazzling way to end
The year as winter nears
The way leaves let loose
And dropp like nature’s tears
Oh yes, I love those golden days
Dreamy with autumn’s glow
It makes me smile because I do
Love the season of autumn so!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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It's the Tattered End of Autumn
It’s the tattered end of autumn,
when the beech tree’s yellow dress
has rusted
and a thick carpet
of mustard
lies rotting underfoot.
It’s the tattered end of autumn,
when the white bones of the birch
are exposed
and its last leaves
cling
like baby koalas.
It’s the tattered end of autumn
when single leaves
dance solos
and next door’s blower
disturbs
the stillness of mid afternoon.
It’s the tattered end of autumn
when bed beckons
and the moon is bright,
and you and I touch toes
tenderly
under the doona.
poem by Alison Cassidy
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Forever Still
When the last leaf of Autumn
drifts quietly on to the ground,
like a blanket, snowfall softly covers
the beautiful hues that once abound
Warmth that filled our very marrow,
quickly cools to Winter's chill.
When the last leaf of Autumn
rests,
forever still
by
T. Labbe`
I Had A Satin Dress
I had a satin dress I wore
only in the night.
I preened in front of the looking glass,
satisfied with the sight.
I would not wear it in the day,
afraid I would be seen
as someone who's high and mighty
and that would just demean
what that dress meant to me
and how it made me feel.
At night I an the belle of the ball,
a feeling no one can steal.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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My autumn girl
Your
Autumn lips
Autumn hair
Autumn eyes
Autumn smile
Autumn cheeks
I kiss God in autumn!
poem by Framarz Bagheri
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