October Leaves
My arms are very chilly out in October
My knees are very filthy out in the mud
when I walk inside I here thud, thud, thud,
out in October
poem by SeQuoia Brown
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Related quotes
Long Journey Ahead
Blinking at the bright light, I thought
“I’m all set for a long trip! I must!
Through many unfamiliar routs”
“I might have done it before! But
I lost my past at my last horizon
Which I left by accepting a covenant
Of oblivion, before reaching this zone”
Ending my musings, I gazed forward
To find two pairs of cool eyes looking into mine
From two masked persons with Steel blades
Bleeding in their hands! What a bad reception? !
Shocked, I remained in timid quietude
Then came an unexpected knock on my back
Someone has started hitting me, first with some heed
Then started speeding up, with sounds like
Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud
I wanted to say, “Hey! Stop it! You freak!
My mumbled lips produced no sound
The hitting continued; with brisk strokes
This time on my belly as well
I felt vulnerable and weak
I wanted to weep; get out of this hell
I tried once again; this time with a crack
With full force I expelled, a shrilling yell
Now the hitting’ as slowed down to a somewhat
Systematic patting; to a more measured rhythm
Heartened; I shrieked again; with full throat
Louder and louder, hysterical, up to the acme
The hitting did cease, all abrupt
After a minute of silence I heard
My captors shouting with delight
“The baby has cried! The baby has cried! !
poem by Sathya Narayana
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When the Thud of Sounds Cross Through the Night Hours
When the thud of sounds cross through the night hours
keeping you awake when you close your eyes
until the sun touches the horizon,
violating your home, wanting to drive you from your house
and if you want to correct that people,
they may want to cause more amok,
when the thud of sounds cross through the night hours
keeping you awake when you close your eyes,
they may hit you with knuckle-dusters
or they may take revenge later
and in an incident all your ribs may be broken,
or they may shoot you quite by accident,
when the thud of sounds cross through the night hours.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Pain Is Just To Real
The pain is just to real.
There’s a tear somewhere deep within me.
Pulling at me, reaching up, seizing me.
The pain is just to real.
It bursts white hot scorching my insides.
Prying me open, ripping inside me.
The pain is just to real.
Needles hitting over and over again.
A cry of fear burst through my mouth.
The pain is just to real.
I hear the thud each time the pain comes.
It’s excruciating, I can’t take this much longer.
The pain is just to real.
I clutch my chest I can’t seem to breathe.
It’s killing me.
The pain is just to real.
Something’s shattering inside me.
It’s hitting every piece of flesh within me.
The pain is just to real.
White hot pain explodes in my chest.
Thud, Thud, pain pulses through my veins.
The pain is just to real.
My muscles begin to twitch.
Clutching my chest I think I see lights.
The pain is just to real.
My vision goes blurry.
I’m coming short of breath.
The pain is just to real.
With one gasping breathe I realize what’s happening.
My heart is shattering..
poem by Krystal Allison
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Concrete Garden
I've got a garden in my yard
Outside my kitchen window
And the sounds that kiss my ears?
Not the wind rustling through plants
Not birds, singing as they plunder
Not the thud of hoe against soil
My garden grows in concrete
And the sounds that kiss my ears?
The shouts of laughter
The words of team spirit
The thud of basketball against pavement
That's the fruit of my toil
poem by Diana Holinski
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Cycles
When Dave Priest died grave sexton told
to toll bell well for corpse stone cold -
from epiderm to earthworm’s feast
star studded sports sporadic yeast.
The moral reads: reeds brave, deeds bold,
berth bends to end which breaks birth's mould.
Mould broken, mould returned, at least
is he released from life once leased.
Though pitter-pat or thud, thud, thud,
warm blood turns into tainted mud,
must musty dust depart, heart ceased,
Time’s gavel knocks down man and beast.
As cycles spin, out's in's template,
who sees the light before dark fate?
© Jonathan Robin – Sonnet robi3_0968 written 1 November 2005 revised 17 October 2008 - for previous version see below
When Dave died grave sexton was told
to toll the bell for one grown old, -
now he is young again, released
from epiderm to earthworm’s feast.
The moral is, however bold,
all bend to end which breaks the mould.
Mould broken, mould returned, as least
is he who highest life once leased.
So whether bid or oversold
warm blood soon rudderless and cold
must musty dust turn heart beat ceased,
Time’s gavel sells off man and beast.
Though cycles swift accelerate,
who sees the light before dark fate?
poem by Jonathan Robin
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And What of Me, If I should Fall.
And What of Me, If I Should Fall
What more can I say to thee, on wounded heart and bended knee,
October winds caress my hall, and what of me, if I should fall.
The yellow photo that cannot talk, the cup of wine now turned to chalk, summers touch the king of Saul, and what of me, if I should fall.
Distant echo from the past, love so true on blood stained glass, that frozen kiss at the midnight ball, and what of me, if I should fall.
House of paper and cotton buds, beating heart and mental thud,
My name on red and cindered walls, and what of me, if I should fall.
The old church on that windswept hill, Heathcliff shivers with frowning chill, swallows song and sky so tall, and what of me, if I should fall.
My blue sea with its whitewash foam, October streets and home alone,
Unto the breach with yelling call, and what of me, if I should fall.
Cloudless forest on barren land, self destruct by noble hand, my sword is sharp and steely raw, and what of me, if I should fall.
poem by Fergus Michael Condron
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When October Goes
And when October goes
The snow begins to fly
Above the smokey roofs
I watch the planes go by
The children running home
Beneath a twilight sky
Oh, for the fun of them
When I was one of them
And when October goes
The same old dream appears
And you are in my arms
To share the happy years
I turn my head away
To hide the helpless tears
Oh how I hate to see October go
I should be over it now I know
It doesn't matter much
How old I grow
I hate to see October go
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Dumb Guy
So many tech-heads
Recent invasion
I stretch out my long legs
And I kick away the mouse pad, baby
Amazon, eBay, Oracle, he say
He promise a freebee
But he's such a pokey little guy
Wait, I hear big footsteps
Thud, thumping out of the past
That big dumb guy is here at last
That big dumb guy is here at last
Cyberman lights up
But mostly he floppy
Computer man crashes
He's so humpty dumpty, baby
Now he tries this experiment
Though he knows it's so low-tech
He tries patting his forehead
While he's rub, rub, rubbing my stomach, baby
But he can't do it, can he?
No, no he can't do that at all
But wait, I hear big footsteps
Thud, thumbing out of the past
Sure enough, that big dumb guy
Is here at last
That big dumb guy is here at last
Big papa bear
Maybe you can remember
It wasn't that long ago
When you dialed a number
You got a living, breathing human being
On the telephone
Don't want nothing to do
But just study the skin on your face
I want to look up at the sky
And watch the sunset
With someone like you
Wait, I hear big footsteps
Thud, thumbing out of the past
That big dumb guy is here at last
That big dumb guy is here at last
That big dumb guy is here, he's here
In fact he's brought his
big raccoon coat with him
And he doesn't even know it's
politically incorrect
That big dumb guy is here at last
I see him now walking torward me
Let's get it on with your big bad self
Get it on babe, Get it on babe
Get it on babe, Get it on babe
That big dumb guy is here at last
Big, big, big, big, big
Big dumb guy
Oh, ha - smartest guy
I ever knew yeah
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me
kiss me, kiss me now
If feels so good
I don't want to have to go into those chat rooms anymore
I don't want to see that pinwheel go round
and around and around
Every time I try to open any window
Hold me, you big dumb guy
You smart guy
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I fell off my pink cloud with a thud.
quote by Elizabeth Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I became a connoisseur of that nasty thud a manuscript makes when it comes through the letter box.
quote by James Herriot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sit around bonfire,
Sparks rise and fly like glow worms;
Charred logs fall with thud.
haiku by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One moment you appear to be riding the crest of a wave, only to have the rug pulled away from you, bringing you back down to earth with a sickening thud.
quote by John Barrow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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October in New Zealand
O JUNE has her diamonds, her diamonds of sheen,
Meet for a queen’s neck, if Death had e’er a queen!
June has her blue days, jewels of delight,
Set in the ivory of Alp-land white,—
But October, October’s the lady o’ the year!
O January’s garland is redder than the rose,
And the wine-red ruby of January glows
All the way to madness and half the way to sin,
When sleep is in the poppy and fire is in the whin!
But October, October’s the lady o’ the year!
October will ride in a mantle o’ the vair,
With the flower o’ the quince in her dew-wet hair;
October will ride to the gates of the day,
With the bluebells ringing on her maiden way;—
For October, October’s the lady o’ the year!
poem by Jessie Mackay
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Valley Of The Dolls
Into the valley of the dolls
Into the valley of the dolls
Into the valley of the dolls
Went the gang of four
Song number one and the rhythm up amping
Drummer beats down 4/4 rock ranking
A bass so deep thud thud spines shaking
And all around mad eyes are rolling
Made up and stunning
As the feet get moving
As the pressure rising
White faces staring
As into the valley of the dolls
- go the gang of four
Song after song rockettes up rocking
One hundred watts scream man
My ears are bleedin
Hot bodies charged blonde locks a givin
And all around - young girls are fainting
Their hearts a pumpin
As the spikes are dancing
Shank girl shanking
I saw love vibrating
As into the valley of the dolls
- go the gallant four
Into the valley of the dolls
Into the valley of the dolls
As into the valley of the dolls
4 skulls are splitting
5 fingers are clicking
6 strings are burning
7th hour approaching
8 legs are stomping
9 lives are groovin
10 thousand coasting
X generating
As into the valley of the dolls
Into the valley of the dolls
Into the valley
Into the valley of the dolls
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I heard this massive thud. I spun around, and there Keith was, on the ground. He'd cut his gums up on impact, he was very bloody, and clutching his head. I think it was a kind of wake-up call for him.
Deep Blue
A solitude of ghostly spill, a dim dispersion,
forgotten sand in eternity's hourglass,
sailors distinguish this life as an obsession,
warriors so expendable, across surpass.
My obsequies in sea, a trinket of dispersion,
recall me lost in January, found in May,
my dreams convert my demise to affection,
and my epitaph became a crossed dismay.
Thud Thud, sounds in sleep, wind-sail-blasts,
She may be the ultimate mens beguile,
Impertinent of a deity, waves on masts,
With her ambrosian sovereign touch and smile..
Maybe I 'll fly with her above a lonely steppe
my solitude will dream of her, as I 'll hark,
word of a priestess form, Delphic corax step,
expended in Stygian terre oblong, as Hydras bark.
Oh, Mother of all my ailments, effusive in cold air..
You who had bestowed my analogy on earth,
and blue Naiads who solemnly, filled my stare,
deep blue I claimed you, in ocean's cold hearth..
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Red Horse
Red horse
Comes out from the snow
Red horse
Well what do you know
Covered with extremely red blood
Fall down
And goes out with a thud
poem by Spike Monni
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Repression of War Experience
Now light the candles; one; two; there’s a moth;
What silly beggars they are to blunder in
And scorch their wings with glory, liquid flame—
No, no, not that,—it’s bad to think of war,
When thoughts you’ve gagged all day come back to scare you;
And it’s been proved that soldiers don’t go mad
Unless they lose control of ugly thoughts
That drive them out to jabber among the trees.
Now light your pipe; look, what a steady hand.
Draw a deep breath; stop thinking; count fifteen,
And you’re as right as rain...
Why won’t it rain?...
I wish there’d be a thunder-storm to-night,
With bucketsful of water to sluice the dark,
And make the roses hang their dripping heads.
Books; what a jolly company they are,
Standing so quiet and patient on their shelves,
Dressed in dim brown, and black, and white, and green,
And every kind of colour. Which will you read?
Come on; O do read something; they’re so wise.
I tell you all the wisdom of the world
Is waiting for you on those shelves; and yet
You sit and gnaw your nails, and let your pipe out,
And listen to the silence: on the ceiling
There’s one big, dizzy moth that bumps and flutters;
And in the breathless air outside the house
The garden waits for something that delays.
There must be crowds of ghosts among the trees,—
Not people killed in battle,—they’re in France,—
But horrible shapes in shrouds—old men who died
Slow, natural deaths,—old men with ugly souls,
Who wore their bodies out with nasty sins.
. . . .
You’re quiet and peaceful, summering safe at home;
You’d never think there was a bloody war on!...
O yes, you would ... why, you can hear the guns.
Hark! Thud, thud, thud,—quite soft ... they never cease—
Those whispering guns—O Christ, I want to go out
And screech at them to stop—I’m going crazy;
I’m going stark, staring mad because of the guns.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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I; july guy; her october
I; july guy
Her october
I love the month
I love her.
October is full of life.
Mine july is of heat.
She gives me relief.
Thus I survive october.
For me, she is precious.
More than the month.
No wonder I merry her.
As she was born in october.
poem by Vizard Dhawan
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Suddenly, at about ten o'clock, a dull thud sounded somewhere far away from us, and simultaneously we saw a small white round cloud about half a mile ahead of us where the shrapnel had exploded. The battle had begun.
quote by Fritz Kreisler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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