Autumn Was Here
Autumn
invades the garden
paints(regardless)
evertything in moonlight
the cat perched
in the tree
the owl stuck
to the ground
the lovers(hidden
just out of sight)
kissing good night
even their words
silver with longing
even the silence.
Autumn moves on
(like a graffitti artist
with a can of moonlight in its hand)
... to the next garden.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
In Autumn's Moonlight
In Autumn's Moonlight
Leaves dance by chance...
In winds of change.
In Autumn's Moonlight
Shadows turn yesterday's garden...
To a rustle of blue and gray.
In Autumn's Moonlight
A breath turns to mist...
and the memory of a past love...
is a cool tear, upon a brisk soul.
poem by M.Dean Everett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chronology is Bunkum For MY Lady Irene
The garden when the sun has set.
Becomes a very different place.
It is quite easy to forget
the fall of night cannot erase.
The beauty which we see by day.
A garden is a hallowed place.
The moon will rise to show the way
Light granted by the Goddess’ grace.
Moonlight will silver all we see.
My love and walk hand in hand.
The garden transformed magically
into our private fairyland.
The moon is smiling from on high
To see two lovers fond embrace
She knows full well the reason why
gardens by night are filled with grace.
There is a bench where we can sit.
Enjoy the quiet of night
Admire the roses silver lit
by gentle beams of soft moonlight.
The night wind rises turning cold
Remind us that its time for bed
We know that we are growing old
Surprised how quickly years have fled.
We won’t admit to being old.
Bar to each other privately.
Pretending to be young and bold.
Defying age aggressively.
Because you do not need to know.
It’s obvious we are mature
Our way of life sedate and slow.
Though you may guess you can’t be sure.
We won’t be old until we choose.
Determined to stay young at heart
Because we stubbornly refuse
To let the aging process start
27/07/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn leaves
In full autumn splendour the trees display
proclaiming the glory of God each passing day.
For The Divine Artist every year paints each tree
so that each person on earth His glory can see.
And when He has finished painting each one
He brings out their colour with the blazing sun.
Then using the wind to dislodge each leaf
He forms a carpet on the ground beneath.
He has given us eyes so that we can see
His glory and majesty in every tree.
Our God like an artist uses His creation
To show us of the way to His salvation.
For as the leaf fell to the ground and died
So Christ gave His life when crucified.
His blood flowed red like autumn leaves
and cleanses all who His love receives.
In The Moonlight
In The Moonlight
With fingers entangled in each other’s hand,
we walk together along the golden sand.
The rolling waves hiss a melody
that we can only hear
like our lover’s soft words
just whispering in our ear.
The moonlight dances across the waves
that roll endlessly to the shore.
We stop for a moment
to listen to our passion’s call.
Enveloping our arms around one another
in the stillness of the night.
Two lovers in the moonlight,
a forever memory to both
as they grow older and greyer.
Both will remember how
they stood on the moonlight shore
embraced within the passions
of two lovers in the moonlight.
18 November 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oriental selection
Bare winter branches
beneath the moon wreathed in mist.
Seem to bloom again.
Echoes of memories foresee
future in the past.
In the soft moonlight
blossoms from the cherry tree
Scattered on the ground.
purpose served, hey leave the stage
Autumn will grant them honour.
Sharp edged shadows cast
by the brilliant winter moon
on the earth below.
Poetry written on the snow
only lovers understand
The wind stirs the reeds
making music by moonlight.
Plaintive melodies
the wind needs no audience.
the moon listens silently.
The moon my lantern
the scent of blossom lingers
The moon lights my way
I walk beside the water
yesterday is gone.
Sun sets, moon rises
constant repetition
She follows her lord
Night without moonlight
restless spirits walk abroad
seeking solace.
Moonlight soothes my soul
as I meditate alone.
Trees whisper to me.
A pond holds the moon
why should the mind of man do less
achieving stillness
Gently moonlight falls
like silver rain silently
lotus blossom sing.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dancing In The Moonlight
Walking in the rain far away from nowhere.
No more noise, just silence and the music thats in my brain.
Walking through the night, a different atmosphere.
No more noise, just silence and the sound thats in my ear.
Im just dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Walking down the hill listening to the trees.
No more noise, just silence and the raindrops on my shoes.
Walking down the beach sparkling lights on the water.
No more noise, just silence and by the way Im feeling free.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im just dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
Im dancing, dancing in the moonlight.
song performed by by Scooter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When You Define A Thing
when you define
a thing, you limit it,
it is like fencing
your garden
the garden becomes
a set of exclusive
flowers, and anything
not like it becomes
a weed, and anything
that moves
becomes a pest
it is not that you
do not define, we do
it sometimes
only to understand
the limits of
understanding,
but we must be open
to other possibilities
of a garden,
a garden of stones
a garden of sand
of mud, of water
a fountain, a garden
of winds, of clouds
a garden of memories
like a poem
for instance, a garden
of words,
words with arms open
to the magic
of further creation
words still trying
to define themselves
in the garden
of the unknown
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn Hello's
Sometimes for others at autumn time period,
Is time for goodbyes when summertime flys,
For autumn is next in season time keeping,
And summer is over and moonlight shines sooner,
To see the autumn early sunset,
Is the time to travel back,
Leaving behind the bright nights,
And early dawnings,
Summertime goodbyes,
And hello to,
Autumn hello's,
Makes some lovers cry,
For time to fly,
When moonlight shines sooner,
And summer nights no more linger,
Tis, when summertime lovers kiss and say goodbye,
Flying back to where they are from,
Leaving each other to fly back home,
Back to the regular days and events,
Back to the mudane schedule,
That made you book and fly away,
Yet, then you settle back in and think,
Of the times you had in summertime joys,
While others of all season,
Settle in and snuggle,
Planning their future together,
Knowing to each in all seasons,
While the whims and joys,
Of summertime loves,
Comes to a halt,
When both part and fly home,
Till,
Mabey they might meet up again,
When autumn, winter and spring has been,
Unless,
In that time and along the way,
They meet an autumn hello,
That keeps them,
Home,
Like all the rest,
That meet and fall in love,
That lasts for more than autumn hello's.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moonlight
Looking at the moon at night,
I wonder how many lovers
have shared it with delight,
millions and trillions
have enjoyed its golden glow
as they went courting
under it each night.
Moonlight is romantic.
As soon as you say it,
romance springs to mind.
Kiss and cuddling
on the back seats of cars,
lovers walking arm in arm
down leafy lovers lanes.
The moonlight brings
out the best of lovers
here and there.
A walk in the moonlight
something they can both love and share.
5 February 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dance In Silver Moonlight
I would dance with thee
among mountain peaks
beneath soft star lit night
under silver moonlight
sound of whisper creeks
to lovers hearts speaks
among moonlit silver rays
lover bound heart slaves
dance in silver moonlight
dance throughout night
sliver shadow love peaks
as this soul is lost in thee
two hearts moonlight free
never more parted can be
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Days Like This...Remind Me Of You
It was a cool, July, and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.
And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.
I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive? Snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?
An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn...Autumn...
Autumn, for this I know.
What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July for
Autumn is abound.
Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or has the sparrows lost their way?
Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.
Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.
Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.
New York... Not In Autum
It was a cool, July, and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.
And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.
I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive? Snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?
An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn...Autumn...
Autumn, for this I know.
What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July for
Autumn is abound.
Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or has the sparrows lost their way?
Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.
Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.
Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.
Only On This Day...
For: J.L.
It was a cool, July, and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.
And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.
I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive? Snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?
An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn...Autumn...
Autumn, for this I know.
What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July for
Autumn is abound.
Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or has the sparrows lost their way?
Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.
Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.
Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.
Autumn...Will Never Be The Same
FOR: J.L. With Love
It was a cool, July, and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.
And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.
I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive? Snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?
An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn...Autumn...
Autumn, for this I know.
What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July for
Autumn is abound.
Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or has the sparrows lost their way?
Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.
Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.
Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.
Snow Fall in the Moonlight
Snow fall in the moonlight,
Like soft cotton falling from the sky,
Covering the ground and bushes in pure white,
Glowing beautifully in the night of December.
Snow fall in the moonlight,
Like a child I walked happily through the pure white snow,
Making soft crackling sound in the silent winter night,
When I reached the far end of the open field,
I turned to see the path I had taken,
A straight line through the pure white snow.
Snow fall in the moonlight,
Can there be a more beautiful sight than this?
As I look into the night sky,
And the soft snow flakes touches my face,
I breathe the fresh cold air of the winter night.
As I stood alone in silence, stillness in the air,
My feeling and longing comes to my lips,
And I thank Allah for this beautiful moment,
A chance to see snow fall in the moonlight!
(In memory of Belgian winter,1986)
poem by Spiritual Seeker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Day...Was You
It was a cool, July, and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.
And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.
I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive? Snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?
An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn...Autumn...
Autumn, for this I know.
What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July for
Autumn is abound.
Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or has the sparrows lost their way?
Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.
Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.
Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.
©Joe Fazio
Autumn In July
It was a cool July and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.
And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.
I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive; snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?
An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn, for this I know.
What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July, for
Autumn is abound.
Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or have the sparrows lost their way?
Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.
Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.
Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.
Mid July? Or Not
It was a cool July and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.
And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.
I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive; snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?
An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn, for this I know.
What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July, for
Autumn is abound.
Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or have the sparrows lost their way?
Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.
Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.
Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.
Autumn In July (rated in group)
It was a cool July and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.
And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.
I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive; snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?
An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn, for this I know.
What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July, for
Autumn is abound.
Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or have the sparrows lost their way?
Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.
Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.
Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.