The smell of pumpkin pie filled the kitchen. I love that smell… It reminds me of family, whipped cream and the scrumptious taste of the sweet pumpkin and cinnamon-y flavor.
Deanne
halloween and my son carving brugh into his pumpkin and thoughts about my sons when they were oh so little and taking pictures of their little bodies in front of huge pumpkins and how cute they looked and it makes my heart smile and I think of fall and even though I don’t like the cold I love the colors.
Pumpkin spice.
The scent of coming home,
orange candles, sweetness.
The loving arms of a parent you haven’t seen in centuries.
It’s been so long since you’ve tasted cookies this sweet,
tea that warms the soul.
In mere minutes, it freezes over;
the celebration is masked
by snow.
I love pumpkins in soup and friend. It reminds me of the tender sensation of my childhood which seems non-existent in my photo albums.
Mel
A pumpkin is big, a pumpkin is small. A pumpkin can be smooth or rough. Pumpkins can come in many forms, it can fit in your hand, or it can barely fit in your trunk. It can be as orange as the sunset, or as pale as the snow. But each and every pumpkin is used and picked up by someone, and like you, it is loved and adored-no matter its shape or size.
Greta
the pumpkin had a curve to its neck, an adiposity, that
could not be explained for the life of it.
Atop the pumpkin, its stem snuffed oxygen surrounding it;
a plant, a mammal, no matter its size,
must breathe.
Voluminous coral gardens beneath the sea have water to bloom them;
on land,
Water rarely satiates pumpkin-grounds unless there’s a caring farmer around.
No matter, the supply, breathe and intake can be found when sought out.
Summatime and the Aztecs breathe easy…
All that doom has come and gone…
Maybe he knows what kind is this lil baby,
An outta season pumpkin that’s already so shady
Now hush little darlin, don’t you dare say a word.
Now That's What's Called Home for the Holidays
Pumpkin pies are good and jacolanters are creepy. pumpkins are a weird type of food but there seeds taste good roasted.
Hanah2
The pie sat cooling on the counter. Her eyes aimed upwards, thinking the best way to reach it. Her head barely reached the silverware drawer, but if she stood on tip-toe and stretched…
Her grandmother turned around and she pretended she hadn’t been trying to stick her hand in the pie. Subtlety is not the strength of three-year-olds.
The sorority girls swarmed the pumpkin patch like bees to a hive, trying to find the best of the bunch for their little college parties and fancy houses. Halloween was their big moneymaker, and busiest time of the year. Jake glanced across the field and found his father keeping a close watch on him. He muttered a curse under his breath and plastered a smile as wide and innocent as the masks he’d carved for the gift shop, determined not to be a bad boy and look too hard this year.
A big orange ball of uneven terrain, mainly used at Halloween as a sign that you can go trick or treating at that persons house. Some people carve eyes and mouths into it.
Harry Blackwell
Halloween is a bust, just an excuse for people to take off their masks and be themselves for the night.
The candle flickers in the porch, the jagged teeth of the pumpkin spitting shadows across the walls.
Nobody even comes to my house. More treats for me.
Why does it have to be pumpkin?? We got so much pumpkin eggnog this year it makes me sick to think of it… even though I just guzzled another glass. Oh well, that is life. Life just passes you by, filled with pumpkin, and pumpkin flavoured things… or at least it’s “pumpkin”. Real pumpkins don’t even taste like that.
PumpkinLord
Seven candles set atop a great pumpkin pie. I was seven years old, and this was a grand day. I had just turned seven, you see. The pie was enticing, but what mattered most were the smiling faces of my friends and family, circled around me in their comforting warmth. Happy birthday.
TThornel
I dont know what to write about pumpkin.
I just know there’s band named smashing Pumpkin.
And didn’t even listened to them.
Pumpkins are scary during halloween and their taste sucks!!
Oh stupid Pumpkin!!
i miss halloween. none of this is going to be poetic. christmas is everywhere. the music won’t stop. I’m poor and I want to be a kid and dress up again. give me another word I’m depressed now, god damnit.
We watched The Great Pumpkin last night. That cartoon was created the same year I was born. Snoopy was a WWI flying ace. John said that, when it was first shown, WWI was the same distance in history as the cartoon is from us now. The kids were amazed by that.
Pumpkin out of the patch. The telltale sign of autumn, of the winds rustling through russet leaves and fluttering them to the ground. The season when we start to bundle in layers, sweaters, jackets, leggings, boots, and we sip on our spiced lattes and titter about what’s to come with time.
The pumpkin patch was glowing under the golden sunlight. The orange skin added some colors to the green surroundings, and the crisp fallen leaves decorated the ground. The crows were flying ahead, the sky was blue with gray clouds floating like cotton balls dipped with dust. The patch was located on top of a hill, enabling visitors to see the quiet houses below, the silent roads without a single hair on it, and the children peering out from the windows with their noses pressed to the chilly glass. The pumpkin patch would always be there mysteriously, although no one had claimed to have taken care of it. Each and every one of the villagers were busy with their own chores and duty that it was almost impossible to take care of something quite as big as a pumpkin patch on the hill. The mystery of the golden pumpkin patch would always resurface in October, and disappear during winter for the golden color would be replaced by the pure white snow.
The pie comes out of the oven. Warm and moist, it fills me of memories of my home. The home I can’t get back too. The home that is gone. The recipe of the pie is lost. And so am I.
I was so tired of this pumpkin craze that took over all stores and supermarkets from the beginning of October until the new year. Sure, pumpkin pie was alright, and I didn’t mind that pumpkin and cream pasta sauce. But pumpkin cookies and cereal and pancakes and waffles? Not to mention pumpkin flavoured coffee and alcohol. It was going completely overboard!
Marni
The pumpkin stood upon the edge of the porch with the creepy face carved upon it’s orange body. It stared out through hollowed eyes at the people walking down the street in strange costumes. Light flickered within as the sounds of children filtered through the air.
their heads are empty and carved out, guts dangling from between the jagged teeth. a single horn sprouts from the top of each head, and a light which does not belong to them illuminates their eyes. they’ve come as exorcists to glide through my home and purge it of spiteful spirits.
Pumpkin pie and pumpkin faces are smells and visuals of a certain time in a distant land that feels like it’s close.
Luiza
jk new word
molly
There was one slice of pumpkin pie left in the fridge, and I wasn’t going to eat it. I didn’t like pumpkin. In fact, I had baked a pie all for myself that Thanksgiving, since no one else liked to eat chocolate cream pie. I took great pains to make the wafer crust and the filling, so as Hank and Amelia charged down the stairs, I let them squabble over the last frivolous chunk of pumpkin confection as I happily worked my way through another piece of cacao goodness.
Belinda Roddie
the knife is cold
metal and sharp
I have one goal
one task
to make a face
to decide features
who will it be?
who will I make?
The smell of pumpkin pie filled the kitchen. I love that smell… It reminds me of family, whipped cream and the scrumptious taste of the sweet pumpkin and cinnamon-y flavor.
halloween and my son carving brugh into his pumpkin and thoughts about my sons when they were oh so little and taking pictures of their little bodies in front of huge pumpkins and how cute they looked and it makes my heart smile and I think of fall and even though I don’t like the cold I love the colors.
Pumpkin spice.
The scent of coming home,
orange candles, sweetness.
The loving arms of a parent you haven’t seen in centuries.
It’s been so long since you’ve tasted cookies this sweet,
tea that warms the soul.
In mere minutes, it freezes over;
the celebration is masked
by snow.
I love pumpkins in soup and friend. It reminds me of the tender sensation of my childhood which seems non-existent in my photo albums.
A pumpkin is big, a pumpkin is small. A pumpkin can be smooth or rough. Pumpkins can come in many forms, it can fit in your hand, or it can barely fit in your trunk. It can be as orange as the sunset, or as pale as the snow. But each and every pumpkin is used and picked up by someone, and like you, it is loved and adored-no matter its shape or size.
the pumpkin had a curve to its neck, an adiposity, that
could not be explained for the life of it.
Atop the pumpkin, its stem snuffed oxygen surrounding it;
a plant, a mammal, no matter its size,
must breathe.
Voluminous coral gardens beneath the sea have water to bloom them;
on land,
Water rarely satiates pumpkin-grounds unless there’s a caring farmer around.
No matter, the supply, breathe and intake can be found when sought out.
Summatime and the Aztecs breathe easy…
All that doom has come and gone…
Maybe he knows what kind is this lil baby,
An outta season pumpkin that’s already so shady
Now hush little darlin, don’t you dare say a word.
Pumpkin pies are good and jacolanters are creepy. pumpkins are a weird type of food but there seeds taste good roasted.
The pie sat cooling on the counter. Her eyes aimed upwards, thinking the best way to reach it. Her head barely reached the silverware drawer, but if she stood on tip-toe and stretched…
Her grandmother turned around and she pretended she hadn’t been trying to stick her hand in the pie. Subtlety is not the strength of three-year-olds.
the big green pumpkin started moving i screamed and my little brother popped out and shouted APRIL FOOLS ha ha ha
Pumpkin? Why pumpkins? Halloween is over…anyway, let’s talk about pumpkins. Uhh…pumpkin pie is good, I guess. I’ve never actually
I thought the pumpkin patch would be automatic.
I wish I had a pumpkin for every time I failed to make good on Secret Santa. All my friends and family would be enjoying pumpkin pie all year long.
Winter is erupting.
The sky is falling
The only orange glow
Is the squirrel ravaged sphere
The sorority girls swarmed the pumpkin patch like bees to a hive, trying to find the best of the bunch for their little college parties and fancy houses. Halloween was their big moneymaker, and busiest time of the year. Jake glanced across the field and found his father keeping a close watch on him. He muttered a curse under his breath and plastered a smile as wide and innocent as the masks he’d carved for the gift shop, determined not to be a bad boy and look too hard this year.
orange, round, bumpy, halloween, carve, light, decorations,
The pumpkin bread was in the oven sending an aroma beyond good through the house that set your mouth to watering.
A big orange ball of uneven terrain, mainly used at Halloween as a sign that you can go trick or treating at that persons house. Some people carve eyes and mouths into it.
Halloween is a bust, just an excuse for people to take off their masks and be themselves for the night.
The candle flickers in the porch, the jagged teeth of the pumpkin spitting shadows across the walls.
Nobody even comes to my house. More treats for me.
Why does it have to be pumpkin?? We got so much pumpkin eggnog this year it makes me sick to think of it… even though I just guzzled another glass. Oh well, that is life. Life just passes you by, filled with pumpkin, and pumpkin flavoured things… or at least it’s “pumpkin”. Real pumpkins don’t even taste like that.
Seven candles set atop a great pumpkin pie. I was seven years old, and this was a grand day. I had just turned seven, you see. The pie was enticing, but what mattered most were the smiling faces of my friends and family, circled around me in their comforting warmth. Happy birthday.
I dont know what to write about pumpkin.
I just know there’s band named smashing Pumpkin.
And didn’t even listened to them.
Pumpkins are scary during halloween and their taste sucks!!
Oh stupid Pumpkin!!
I’ve often wondered why people call either their significant others or children pumpkin.
i miss halloween. none of this is going to be poetic. christmas is everywhere. the music won’t stop. I’m poor and I want to be a kid and dress up again. give me another word I’m depressed now, god damnit.
We watched The Great Pumpkin last night. That cartoon was created the same year I was born. Snoopy was a WWI flying ace. John said that, when it was first shown, WWI was the same distance in history as the cartoon is from us now. The kids were amazed by that.
Pumpkin out of the patch. The telltale sign of autumn, of the winds rustling through russet leaves and fluttering them to the ground. The season when we start to bundle in layers, sweaters, jackets, leggings, boots, and we sip on our spiced lattes and titter about what’s to come with time.
The pumpkin patch was glowing under the golden sunlight. The orange skin added some colors to the green surroundings, and the crisp fallen leaves decorated the ground. The crows were flying ahead, the sky was blue with gray clouds floating like cotton balls dipped with dust. The patch was located on top of a hill, enabling visitors to see the quiet houses below, the silent roads without a single hair on it, and the children peering out from the windows with their noses pressed to the chilly glass. The pumpkin patch would always be there mysteriously, although no one had claimed to have taken care of it. Each and every one of the villagers were busy with their own chores and duty that it was almost impossible to take care of something quite as big as a pumpkin patch on the hill. The mystery of the golden pumpkin patch would always resurface in October, and disappear during winter for the golden color would be replaced by the pure white snow.
1pumpkin = placed unto merriander per known intput now
orange
fall
festive
ridged
JACK
cosy
pie
Starbucks
comfort
I don’t really like pumpkin flavored sweets but I love to decorate and carve pumpkin for halloween
Orange, like the sunset
but much bolder.
Round, like the sun
but softer.
Pleated, like the drapes
but more amusing
The pie comes out of the oven. Warm and moist, it fills me of memories of my home. The home I can’t get back too. The home that is gone. The recipe of the pie is lost. And so am I.
I was so tired of this pumpkin craze that took over all stores and supermarkets from the beginning of October until the new year. Sure, pumpkin pie was alright, and I didn’t mind that pumpkin and cream pasta sauce. But pumpkin cookies and cereal and pancakes and waffles? Not to mention pumpkin flavoured coffee and alcohol. It was going completely overboard!
The pumpkin stood upon the edge of the porch with the creepy face carved upon it’s orange body. It stared out through hollowed eyes at the people walking down the street in strange costumes. Light flickered within as the sounds of children filtered through the air.
their heads are empty and carved out, guts dangling from between the jagged teeth. a single horn sprouts from the top of each head, and a light which does not belong to them illuminates their eyes. they’ve come as exorcists to glide through my home and purge it of spiteful spirits.
Pumpkin pie and pumpkin faces are smells and visuals of a certain time in a distant land that feels like it’s close.
jk new word
There was one slice of pumpkin pie left in the fridge, and I wasn’t going to eat it. I didn’t like pumpkin. In fact, I had baked a pie all for myself that Thanksgiving, since no one else liked to eat chocolate cream pie. I took great pains to make the wafer crust and the filling, so as Hank and Amelia charged down the stairs, I let them squabble over the last frivolous chunk of pumpkin confection as I happily worked my way through another piece of cacao goodness.
the knife is cold
metal and sharp
I have one goal
one task
to make a face
to decide features
who will it be?
who will I make?
swimming and hunting
slicing through the cold water
knives cut through the flesh