falling stumbling trickling leaves trailing through the brease leaving no trace for they need no trace, they will be returning again to repeat the cycle. over and over and over…………
Leaves tumbling softly; the quietest of all avalanches. The street is deserted, I want to swing on the lamp post… I do. My forest pea coat flaps open and my spice scarf flaps around my face and whips it a frenzied red. My nose and lips are burning, chapped from the frigid air.
at the peak of my rib hangs a leaf
legal notepad annotation, some decoupage
of eyelip, translucent
like nylon skin the colour of merlot
next to my heart are the
new england whitecaps
on the threshold of a december
sleep. loveworn and tender
against the warm earthchest
not so different
from peatmoss or sighing fathers.
There are leaves everywhere. I can smell the rain as it falls to the earth and I think of running and laughing and how excited I am to share my life with my daughter. Seven weeks old and amazing. Love is a powerful thing. She makes me want to be a better person. To love brighter and louder and smarter. To protect her from the world and let her learn from my mistakes and hers. I love the things I do not know. I want to stay simple, to be complicated by only my mind and be someone that makes a mark on everyone I meet. Believe in light and God and remember that everyone deserves a second, third, fourth, and even fifth chance. I want you to know that I love you, whomever you are and I always will.
smells like leaves and pencils and butterflies in my stomach. it’s those mornings when you know what crisp means, or the days kissing is as much about keeping warm as romance
the crimson leaves
fell
down
one
at a
time
or in a flurry
she watched them
sadly
then walked and as she walked she made sure to crumple
a few of them
beneath her boot
and she marveled
at their hopelessness
they were defensless
and she trampled on them
she laughed
stomped on some more
delighted
she picked up a handful of them
they were crunchy
some were shades of bright yellows
others
dark reds
she clenched her fist
and they crumbled
then she let them fall
out of her hand
to the ground
where they would remain
as she walked away
I love autumn. I love the colors, I love the feeling of the crisp air. I didn’t know what crisp air felt like until this year when I started college in the autumn. I remember walking around and seeing all of the gorgeous colors and thinking, this is where I should be. This is where I feel like I could make something of myself. It’s beautiful.
fall is coming we had a snowstorm in october that is very stupid because it is october and it should not snow because we still had leaves on the trees and they hadnt fallen yet so winter came before autumn and it should go winter spring summer autumn but it went instead summer winter and we are still autumn.
One by one the petals drop
There’s nothing that can make them stop.
You cannot beg a rose to stay.
Why does it have to be that way?
The butterflies I used to chase
Have gone off to some other place.
I don’t know where. I only know
I wish they didn’t have to go.
And all the shiny afternoons
So full of birds and big balloons
And ice cream melting in the sun Are done.
I do not want them done
My yard is full of leaves today
Brown and yellow and gold
I think I’ll rake them in a pile
Higher than my head
Then I’ll pretend it is my bed
I’ll jump in very quick
And pile their leaves up over me
For covers soft and thick
I’ll just lie there so nice and warm
And look up in the sky
And watch more leaves float down for me
To rake up bye and bye
If I were a leaf
(but I wouldn’t be)
I’d have to be tied
to a tree, tree, tree.
I couldn’t walk off
(or skip or run)
and my nose would get burned
by the sun, sun, sun.
In summer I’d roast,
(in winter I’d freeze)
and all through October
I’d sneeze, sneeze, sneeze.
oh, why must school begin. the monotony. the stupid poems.
it’s a beautiful, crisp day. turning colors, and emotions, time to reconsider and to make new choices as the upcoming season approaches. Or, perhaps, Autumn is the joyful name of new acquaintances. It’s time.
Approaching, Moving afar. Joy. Difficulty. Something changes as all of life does. It makes sense of the senseless. But, perhaps, there is no sense to be made. Even though we know that life’s cycles will recur, there may be no answers, just life…for an instant or an eternity.
Who knows? I certainly don’t. Autumn, not twilight, not dawn, not spring. But, beauty can be found. I
I’m a man who has not embraced the outdoors. And, it has been a choice to do that. We choose. Some choices are better than others. It’s often just a choice. Some good, some not so good.
This is a very interesting exercise, of making choices and letting the mind wander. Expression, color, hibernation, exploration, joy, pain. Wow!
Autumn means pumpkins, gold and brown leaves cascading from the sky, crisp apples overflowing from my fruit bowl, blankets on the lawn on a chilly evening, scarves warming my neck. Autumn in Florida also means the pinkest sunsets. Sunsets that illuminate the entire sky and make you wonder why you ever questioned the exsistance of a god.
autumn is a wonderful time for change. the weather changes, the color changes, even the smells and ambiances change. Although this is true, in Oklahoma nothing is as expected. Oklahoma, being the forever changing state that it is, never will be consistent. The weather changes every five minutes or so. You could be burning up at 8am and then be completely freezing in a snow blizzard hours later in the afternoon. this entry is lame…..
Fireflies appeal to the inner senses and I realise I have no idea where they go in this season. I fear the flesh of theirs I used to light up at night. Their death somehow worth my diminishing enjoyment. Petty. Vile. Disappointment. I find beauty in their journey now though.
She never knew then that the changing seasons would remind her of the tragedy that would soon befall her. Diving in the tunnel of orange and red she daydreamed about her new year in college.
it was a brisk autumn day. a perfect day in fall, a perfect day to take a deep breath, take a walk, take a break, take a look around. pause. think. breath. rest. it was a sunny autumn day. the last day berfore snow.
The crisp autumn air greeted my skin with a welcoming smile. The leaves whispered hello as the rustled on the ground. It’s time for sweaters and hot coco, trick-or-treaters and late night bonfires.
Autumn air always reminded her of endings. It was rather contrarian of her, she knew, but the scent had never signaled new school years and exciting colors for her. Instead, it was a hurting time, a time of preparation for the long, cold, winter to come.
The autumn leaves crunched under my worn boots. It was a familiar sound, a familiar sight, a familiar smell. It calmed me, brought me back to the present, and provided a much needed feeling of normality in a life as odd as mine.
I went in the forest, smelling the sweet leaves in the autumn air. I nestled within the leaves soaking in their healing essences. It had never occurred to me then that the cold frost would return then as I was warm within this leaf nest that I had made.
In the autumn of my soul, the strains of death suffer an excruciating birth into a world that neither seeks to take nor desires to give; in this place the light of my soul reflects on the surface of the world.
Early morning frost and leaves on the ground. Bright red leaves mixed with yellow. Nature at its most colorful. So much amazing color. I love photographing it at every chance I can get. It is an astounding season and has always been my favorite.
The sky is bluer in autumn. The morning sun is mellow but during the day it is stark. The smell of decaying leaves permeates the air. Crispy-crunchness underfoot. Cool evenings with stars returning.
The autumm air is welcoming to me, reminding to some when things are ready to go. A special time of year that reminds you that some things are meant to die so that life may truly come, that holing up for a time is what’s necessary for life to begin.
Autumn is often considered a time of death, at least in the Frye sense, but Winston had always been energized by the sight of leaves falling. It meant more spaces for him to hide rotten eggs in Mr. McCarthy’s lawn.
Sometimes, in autumn, the days are light and breezy, the leaves swirling about playfully. Other times, a dark shadow is cast upon the land, the wind picks up and flings a heavy layer of cold rain into your face and it feels as if each droplet were a dagger digging through your flesh, yet no blood is drawn. Then, once again, the sky is clear, and winds are merely playful zephyrs of little impact, but the ground is still sodden from the beating that was cast upon it so.
The feeling of autumn is upon us. The days are shorter, and the nights are longer. They say, “nighttime is the right time”, but that is no true in this house. Nighttime is more like an exercise in maintaining sanity and composure. There is always something to fear after dark.
it was autumn, when I killed myself. That day was lovely, or sort of. The sky was gray and the air was cold and dry. I had walked into the bathroom and decided that this was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. As I drew the glass along my wrist, and felt the blood seep out of my veins, I took one last look at the autumn sky and closed my eyes. Never to feel pain again.
I always liked the autumn. I like the cold weather, and the leaves and the trees. Most of all I loved the high school football games. My school never had a chance of winning. But the games were always enjoyable, and I loved every minute of it.
the leaves. it was always the leaves-her favourite part of any season.
but autumn leaves. just breathing them made you feel…safe. the different hues of scarlet and amber and gold melting into one another’s lives.
and dying.
one of the most beautiful deaths known to this world.
slow.
satisfying.
The leaves fall to the ground, littering in their vibrant colors. Soon, however, the colors so full of life began to rot and fade away, as winter comes in. The trees shed their finery, exchanging it for barren branches. In autumn the sun taunts hanging high in the sky while, the air is still chilled.
The feeling of the warm cool air across your face with your scarf around your neck holding the hand of you lover. Its cuddle weather, its time to light the fire and enjoy the feeling of autumn.
Auburn leaves trickle to the ground like water droplets. The chilly, almost wintery wind stings my cheeks. Lunging for a leaf, I nearly fall. Making a wish is the only thing on my mind.
Autumn hair shifts over his ear, following the movement of his head. He looks at me.
It matches the seasonal foliage. Red lips smile.
He steps over the swamp of wet leaves clinging to its king, rotten stump. I step back; plenty of room to stay at least a mile apart.
Another step forward.
Retreat.
A white breath shot from his hot tongue, “Guess December came early.”
It was hard not to be somewhat offended — “that’s a stripper name” is not exactly a compliment. But on the other hand, would he have said that if he found her completely unattractive? Probably not, she thought.
I love watching the leaves change colors. Reds, golds, browns, oranges. The cool crisp bite of wind on the back of your neck. Start of football season and good beer. Best. season. ever.
the smell of his neck,
the pen in my pocket,
the squeak of the dry erase board,
the way a book feels all broken in,
falling stumbling trickling leaves trailing through the brease leaving no trace for they need no trace, they will be returning again to repeat the cycle. over and over and over…………
Leaves tumbling softly; the quietest of all avalanches. The street is deserted, I want to swing on the lamp post… I do. My forest pea coat flaps open and my spice scarf flaps around my face and whips it a frenzied red. My nose and lips are burning, chapped from the frigid air.
at the peak of my rib hangs a leaf
legal notepad annotation, some decoupage
of eyelip, translucent
like nylon skin the colour of merlot
next to my heart are the
new england whitecaps
on the threshold of a december
sleep. loveworn and tender
against the warm earthchest
not so different
from peatmoss or sighing fathers.
There are leaves everywhere. I can smell the rain as it falls to the earth and I think of running and laughing and how excited I am to share my life with my daughter. Seven weeks old and amazing. Love is a powerful thing. She makes me want to be a better person. To love brighter and louder and smarter. To protect her from the world and let her learn from my mistakes and hers. I love the things I do not know. I want to stay simple, to be complicated by only my mind and be someone that makes a mark on everyone I meet. Believe in light and God and remember that everyone deserves a second, third, fourth, and even fifth chance. I want you to know that I love you, whomever you are and I always will.
smells like leaves and pencils and butterflies in my stomach. it’s those mornings when you know what crisp means, or the days kissing is as much about keeping warm as romance
the crimson leaves
fell
down
one
at a
time
or in a flurry
she watched them
sadly
then walked and as she walked she made sure to crumple
a few of them
beneath her boot
and she marveled
at their hopelessness
they were defensless
and she trampled on them
she laughed
stomped on some more
delighted
she picked up a handful of them
they were crunchy
some were shades of bright yellows
others
dark reds
she clenched her fist
and they crumbled
then she let them fall
out of her hand
to the ground
where they would remain
as she walked away
I love autumn. I love the colors, I love the feeling of the crisp air. I didn’t know what crisp air felt like until this year when I started college in the autumn. I remember walking around and seeing all of the gorgeous colors and thinking, this is where I should be. This is where I feel like I could make something of myself. It’s beautiful.
smells crispy.colors love to be in my cozy clothes. excited for my birthday. holidays approaching. chilly mornings.
fall is coming we had a snowstorm in october that is very stupid because it is october and it should not snow because we still had leaves on the trees and they hadnt fallen yet so winter came before autumn and it should go winter spring summer autumn but it went instead summer winter and we are still autumn.
One by one the petals drop
There’s nothing that can make them stop.
You cannot beg a rose to stay.
Why does it have to be that way?
The butterflies I used to chase
Have gone off to some other place.
I don’t know where. I only know
I wish they didn’t have to go.
And all the shiny afternoons
So full of birds and big balloons
And ice cream melting in the sun Are done.
I do not want them done
My yard is full of leaves today
Brown and yellow and gold
I think I’ll rake them in a pile
Higher than my head
Then I’ll pretend it is my bed
I’ll jump in very quick
And pile their leaves up over me
For covers soft and thick
I’ll just lie there so nice and warm
And look up in the sky
And watch more leaves float down for me
To rake up bye and bye
If I were a leaf
(but I wouldn’t be)
I’d have to be tied
to a tree, tree, tree.
I couldn’t walk off
(or skip or run)
and my nose would get burned
by the sun, sun, sun.
In summer I’d roast,
(in winter I’d freeze)
and all through October
I’d sneeze, sneeze, sneeze.
oh, why must school begin. the monotony. the stupid poems.
it’s a beautiful, crisp day. turning colors, and emotions, time to reconsider and to make new choices as the upcoming season approaches. Or, perhaps, Autumn is the joyful name of new acquaintances. It’s time.
Approaching, Moving afar. Joy. Difficulty. Something changes as all of life does. It makes sense of the senseless. But, perhaps, there is no sense to be made. Even though we know that life’s cycles will recur, there may be no answers, just life…for an instant or an eternity.
Who knows? I certainly don’t. Autumn, not twilight, not dawn, not spring. But, beauty can be found. I
I’m a man who has not embraced the outdoors. And, it has been a choice to do that. We choose. Some choices are better than others. It’s often just a choice. Some good, some not so good.
This is a very interesting exercise, of making choices and letting the mind wander. Expression, color, hibernation, exploration, joy, pain. Wow!
Autumn means pumpkins, gold and brown leaves cascading from the sky, crisp apples overflowing from my fruit bowl, blankets on the lawn on a chilly evening, scarves warming my neck. Autumn in Florida also means the pinkest sunsets. Sunsets that illuminate the entire sky and make you wonder why you ever questioned the exsistance of a god.
autumn is a wonderful time for change. the weather changes, the color changes, even the smells and ambiances change. Although this is true, in Oklahoma nothing is as expected. Oklahoma, being the forever changing state that it is, never will be consistent. The weather changes every five minutes or so. You could be burning up at 8am and then be completely freezing in a snow blizzard hours later in the afternoon. this entry is lame…..
Fireflies appeal to the inner senses and I realise I have no idea where they go in this season. I fear the flesh of theirs I used to light up at night. Their death somehow worth my diminishing enjoyment. Petty. Vile. Disappointment. I find beauty in their journey now though.
She never knew then that the changing seasons would remind her of the tragedy that would soon befall her. Diving in the tunnel of orange and red she daydreamed about her new year in college.
it was a brisk autumn day. a perfect day in fall, a perfect day to take a deep breath, take a walk, take a break, take a look around. pause. think. breath. rest. it was a sunny autumn day. the last day berfore snow.
The crisp autumn air greeted my skin with a welcoming smile. The leaves whispered hello as the rustled on the ground. It’s time for sweaters and hot coco, trick-or-treaters and late night bonfires.
Autumn air always reminded her of endings. It was rather contrarian of her, she knew, but the scent had never signaled new school years and exciting colors for her. Instead, it was a hurting time, a time of preparation for the long, cold, winter to come.
The autumn leaves crunched under my worn boots. It was a familiar sound, a familiar sight, a familiar smell. It calmed me, brought me back to the present, and provided a much needed feeling of normality in a life as odd as mine.
I went in the forest, smelling the sweet leaves in the autumn air. I nestled within the leaves soaking in their healing essences. It had never occurred to me then that the cold frost would return then as I was warm within this leaf nest that I had made.
In the autumn of my soul, the strains of death suffer an excruciating birth into a world that neither seeks to take nor desires to give; in this place the light of my soul reflects on the surface of the world.
Early morning frost and leaves on the ground. Bright red leaves mixed with yellow. Nature at its most colorful. So much amazing color. I love photographing it at every chance I can get. It is an astounding season and has always been my favorite.
The sky is bluer in autumn. The morning sun is mellow but during the day it is stark. The smell of decaying leaves permeates the air. Crispy-crunchness underfoot. Cool evenings with stars returning.
The autumm air is welcoming to me, reminding to some when things are ready to go. A special time of year that reminds you that some things are meant to die so that life may truly come, that holing up for a time is what’s necessary for life to begin.
Autumn is often considered a time of death, at least in the Frye sense, but Winston had always been energized by the sight of leaves falling. It meant more spaces for him to hide rotten eggs in Mr. McCarthy’s lawn.
Sometimes, in autumn, the days are light and breezy, the leaves swirling about playfully. Other times, a dark shadow is cast upon the land, the wind picks up and flings a heavy layer of cold rain into your face and it feels as if each droplet were a dagger digging through your flesh, yet no blood is drawn. Then, once again, the sky is clear, and winds are merely playful zephyrs of little impact, but the ground is still sodden from the beating that was cast upon it so.
Autumn took a vacation.
It’s summer time by day and winter by night.
The only evidence that it was ever here are the fallen leaves, which I am sad to say that I haven’t actually seen fall.
It’s a shame, really. I quite like autumn…
The feeling of autumn is upon us. The days are shorter, and the nights are longer. They say, “nighttime is the right time”, but that is no true in this house. Nighttime is more like an exercise in maintaining sanity and composure. There is always something to fear after dark.
it was autumn, when I killed myself. That day was lovely, or sort of. The sky was gray and the air was cold and dry. I had walked into the bathroom and decided that this was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. As I drew the glass along my wrist, and felt the blood seep out of my veins, I took one last look at the autumn sky and closed my eyes. Never to feel pain again.
I always liked the autumn. I like the cold weather, and the leaves and the trees. Most of all I loved the high school football games. My school never had a chance of winning. But the games were always enjoyable, and I loved every minute of it.
the leaves. it was always the leaves-her favourite part of any season.
but autumn leaves. just breathing them made you feel…safe. the different hues of scarlet and amber and gold melting into one another’s lives.
and dying.
one of the most beautiful deaths known to this world.
slow.
satisfying.
The leaves fall to the ground, littering in their vibrant colors. Soon, however, the colors so full of life began to rot and fade away, as winter comes in. The trees shed their finery, exchanging it for barren branches. In autumn the sun taunts hanging high in the sky while, the air is still chilled.
the leaves were beautiful this year, there were golds and oranges mixed in with the greens of the tamarack trees. It was a spectacle like no other
The feeling of the warm cool air across your face with your scarf around your neck holding the hand of you lover. Its cuddle weather, its time to light the fire and enjoy the feeling of autumn.
Auburn leaves trickle to the ground like water droplets. The chilly, almost wintery wind stings my cheeks. Lunging for a leaf, I nearly fall. Making a wish is the only thing on my mind.
The trees are on fire along with my heart and mind. I’ll never escape this autumn moment.
Autumn hair shifts over his ear, following the movement of his head. He looks at me.
It matches the seasonal foliage. Red lips smile.
He steps over the swamp of wet leaves clinging to its king, rotten stump. I step back; plenty of room to stay at least a mile apart.
Another step forward.
Retreat.
A white breath shot from his hot tongue, “Guess December came early.”
It was hard not to be somewhat offended — “that’s a stripper name” is not exactly a compliment. But on the other hand, would he have said that if he found her completely unattractive? Probably not, she thought.
I love watching the leaves change colors. Reds, golds, browns, oranges. The cool crisp bite of wind on the back of your neck. Start of football season and good beer. Best. season. ever.