TAKING THE FALL

fall-foliage-560

This Wednesday, September 23rd, is the official First Day of Autumn. And our thoughts turn to the sights, sounds, tastes and smells of this flamboyant season. I’m thinking apple cider and pumpkin pies, the cheers of a football crowd and visions of the many vibrant hues as the leaves change their colors before they fall and we rake them into piles and in some circumstances are able to burn them adding another aroma of familiar times.

What are your thoughts of Autumn? What do you look forward to (or what do you dread?) What memories does the season bring? And let’s remember the colors of Fall. The range from still green through the graduations of golds, amber, orange, crimson, bright red, umber and brown, with every shade in between. You can also  choose a hue and making that the title of your piece, take the fall and write your poem!

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48 thoughts on “TAKING THE FALL

  1. PASSAGE

    The colors bring such thrills to me,
    almost without number;
    they foist high joys into my soul
    that fears cannot encumber
    and these sustain me through the days
    as autumn fades to slumber.
    The dying year smiles.in its prime
    as amber turns to umber.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Autumn is Here

    Pick the last of the tomatoes
    Those bulging ears of corn
    Frosts wait to raid the garden
    Early in the morn.

    Blazing leaves of maple
    Warm the growing chill
    Shadows falling early
    The cricket choir grows still.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. High School Cool

    She wasn’t a cheer
    leader or even one
    of the wanna-be’s on
    the Pep Squad but
    she never missed a
    game and yelled when
    the home team scored
    like the cool girls
    and wore the blue and
    silver school colors
    like the cool girls
    her hair was long
    and straight
    like the cool girls
    and it was years before
    she realized she was
    cooler than the cool girls

    Liked by 1 person

  4. THE GLORIOUS LIBERTY OF AUTUMN

    The awesome spell of autumn is upon us

    as we taste the glorious essence

    of the timocracy of it’s hue.

    The strewn colors of mother nature

    restfully bleed; through battalions of trees,

    who willingly lay down their leaves,

    for the joy of the nation.

    “Give me liberty or give me death”,

    as they breath their last, into the freedom of soil.

    No longer to toil or linger upon the tree.

    But set free, released to roam in the earth.

    Benjamin Thomas

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  5. Bobby Johnson

    We were walking home
    from a Halloween party.
    Daryl scooped up stones
    and threw them at a trailer truck that rumbled by.
    Red lights flashed with screeching breaks.
    A muscular truck driver leapt from the front,
    grabbed Daryl by the collar,
    slammed him against the side of the truck.
    “It wasn’t me,” screeched Daryl,
    scared out of his gourd.
    “It was Bobby Johnson.”
    The driver let Daryl go.
    We walked home.
    A little stunned.
    Making jokes
    about the infamous
    bad boy,
    imaginary
    Bobby Johnson.

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  6. Red Autumn

    This autumn begins
    overnight
    Painted leaves
    glorify the trees
    When I return from a trip
    yard sports scarlet stars.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. WHISPERS

    It’s a tranquil lake that licks the shoreline,
    a gentle taste; longing for the familiar flavor
    of a summer sent packing. Lacking much
    in the way of seasoning, but anxious for the season
    that approaches. It can be heard in soft sounds.

    Not rambunctious and raucous; more tip-toey
    and cautious. Secretive. Seductive. Luring
    and alluring. Stirring the paint pot with
    a broad brush, coloring the landscape to offer
    a grand escape from the hum-drum.

    Some certainly envision the splay of oranges and golds,
    crimsons and whatever else nature holds for our viewing.
    Autumn is brewing. Not with an extravagant entrance,
    but with a warm nuzzle; a comfortable caress.
    Hushed words expressing what a heart can feel.

    Hear it in the whistle of wind. Listen to the rustle of the leaves.
    See it in the palette of the Grand Master’s artful stroke.
    Embrace the whispers, they are of a serene and assuring nature.

    Liked by 3 people

  8. Autumn Leaves

    Brisk breeze blows its chill
    Energizing zeal
    Swishing colorful, crisp leaves
    Skittering along
    Singing their fall song
    Piling high up past the knees

    Liked by 1 person

  9. […] Rising – TAKING THE FALL – Thoughts on […]

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  10. Techie troubles on the home-front…

    https://wordrustling.wordpress.com/2015/09/22/first-tree-turning/

    Thank you, for the inspiration!

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  11. WALK WITH AUTUMNAL GENTILITY

    Walk gently on this earthly path,
    the call of nature draws.
    All things Autumnal presented
    in tint and hue. Emblazoned
    Equinox offering her heart;
    her softening countenance.
    Swiftly she moves, enhancing
    every chance at her diminishing view.
    Partner in life’s enchanted dance.
    Weary traveler, walk gently.
    Be wrapped in the warmth of her
    season for no other reason
    than to be your inspiration
    for the duration of her passionate
    embrace. Before her face turns cold,
    take hold of her beauty. It is fleeting.
    Sweet Autumn burns with an ember’s glow.
    Before she goes, she will have your heart.
    Do not hesitate to go with her. Walk gently.

    Liked by 1 person

  12. THIS YEAR’S AUTUMNAL EQUINOX

    Autumn leaves
    me feeling wistful,
    wishing for
    warm sunshine
    and the fresh crisp air I knew
    from my days of youth.

    We knew the
    days were shortening
    and that the
    snow would soon
    fly through the skies; the colors
    of fall would leave us.

    This meant we
    played while the sun shone,
    we raked leaves
    into piles
    for fun and bonfires…we would
    always want some more.

    Living now
    in the South, where leaves
    remain green,
    Autumn is
    just another day on the
    calendar to me.

    2015-09-23
    P. Wanken

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    • The queen of the shadorma comes again. Wonderful poems, wonderful sounds, wonderful memories. However, there are no green jays in the north.

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      • Thanks, William…the pattern of the shadorma suits me, I suppose. Even when I string’em together for a longer poem. 🙂 When I’ve looked back at some of my first poems (I started writing poetry 5 years ago this winter), it’s interesting to see some of my longer “pre-shadorma” poems!

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