Sorry for the late start. I’m battling an infection and not fully functional. A while back we explored the five senses. We will apply them this time to the season of Autumn.
Using some (or all) of these words, write your piece with a fall or Halloween theme. Theses are the sensory words we will use:
SOUND: rustle, whistle, howl
SIGHT: darkness, children, pumpkins
TASTE: turkey, candy, apples
TOUCH: cold, scratchy (sweaters), crisp
SMELL: burning, spice, baking
What About the Pumpkins
Does anyone ask the pumpkins
if they want a silly grin or
mouth wide open in some ghoulish
hoooowl
And do they enjoy sitting on
scratchy cement porch
while children run past
in search of the best treats,
candy not apples
What of the candle
burning deep in its inner-most
parts – does the flame
warm it or remind that pumpkin
of friends lost to baking
What about the pumpkins
Who will speak for them
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Yes, justice should be done. BIG grin here.
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Thanks 😉
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Nice! I love your questions and perspective of the pumpkin, Candy!
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Thanks Hannah!
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It is nearly impossible, I find, to spell ‘howl’ with only one ‘o’. I myself used five ‘o’s, I do believe.
Candy, you are like the Lorax, who speaks for the trees.
Good show.
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Thanks! I tried to comment on your site but couldn’t pass the ” I am not a robot ” test
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That’s right, pumpkins rule!
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👍
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Autumn Thoughts
Rustle of red leaves
as I bustle about the yard,
trying to rake before
darkness sets in,
and it becomes colder.
Crisp air this late
autumn afternoon. Soon,
pumpkins will be rimed
with frost, apples
ripe and the smell
of spiced cider
will soon fill the kitchen.
We will sit in front
of a burning fire,
sipping from snowman mugs,
content and ready for the first
whistle of winter winds.
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This is so cozy. Lovely senses.
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Positively idyllic.
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So many details that I also love and look forward to each fall. 🙂 Beautiful, Sara!
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Nice cadence… Visually v. nice, too… and conjures a glowing mood.
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LAST WISH
Oh, bury me not in the pumpkin patch,
where the turkeys howl and the spiders scratch;
so when I die, lay me in a batch
of apple pies, not the pumpkin patch.
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Well, this made me laugh out loud! You are a clever man.
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Yes, please! I love the smell of apple pie…I just helped my 92 year old Grammy to get apples ready so she could make a pie…so fun!
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hehe
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Well OK, but it would be pretty messy!
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Dear Walt, I hope you’ll soon be functional
and render infection contrapunctional.
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[…] Phoenix – A SENSE FOR FALL WORDS A suggestion for Fall words on site…I used mostly my own for this poem other than, […]
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Hope you kick that infection’s butt, Walt…thank you for the autumnal inspiration…I used one of your suggestions and was sure to include all of the senses. 🙂
https://wordrustling.wordpress.com/2015/10/13/morning-coffee-in-autumn/
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Your way with the haibun is as delicate as dew and silver strings. Lovely.
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Oh, wow…I really appreciate that, William…thank you!
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I’ve got one, I’ve got one!
It’s too long to place here; won’t you please come and see?
http://quidproquoreviews.blogspot.com/2015/10/some-spookiness-for-phoenix-rising.html
Just found you guys this morning on the sidebar of a swell poet’s blog.
Thanks for the inspiration… looking forward to more to come…
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That is so delightful. its shifts reminds me of an old song, Sweet Violets.
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I love this! Such wonderful imagery of every sense.
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A SENSE OF AUTUMN
I hear the Autumnal approach
as it rustles through the leaves
and howls through the valley.
An if it passes the graveyard,
I hope it whistles.
Seeing the changes it seems strange
as the darkness comes quickly, thickly veiled.
Children head indoors as the streetlights
warn of the pumpkin march into night
Quite the scary sight!
And the flavor of the Fall is almost savory,
a mix of candy apples and turkey stuffing.
It send you huffing and puffing through
every second helping. Yelping with delight
as we get our fill.
Can you feel it? The real deal
touches you on the crisp mornings
dew fed and cold, the sensation of old
woolen cloaks that scratch and itch.
Autumns finds a familiar niche!
The aroma of Autumn fills your nostrils
like a rich fine pie baking, every prospective slice
bursting with spice and filling. The anticipation
is thrilling. It has you yearning.
Burning a place into your memory.
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Wow. This unleashes nostalgia in full force.
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Really made me think of childhood. Last stanza made me hungry!
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Very appropriate and poignant for the Autumn to be ‘whistling past the graveyard” 🙂
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Halloween Night
Whistling winds whirl leaves in the cold, crisp air
Children’s crunching footsteps sound in the dark
Laughter follows those who take a dare
Whistling winds whirl leaves in the cold, crisp air
Neighbors wait with porch lights on, candy to share
Doorbells ring, “Trick or Treat!”, dogs bark
Whistling winds whirl leaves in the cold, crisp air
Children’s crunching footsteps sound in the dark
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It’s perfect because on Halloween night, you repeat the same little porch performance again and again 🙂
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This is so nice, and I think the triolet fits perfectly, given the rounds the children make.
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Oh Connie, what a perfect fit for a triolet!
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LONG GROVE DAYS
I close my eyes and my feet take me over the covered bridge and down the middle of town, among rustling leaves, past the perennial pumpkin patch photo spots and cider mill, where I smell spices mulling and their famous apple treats, baking. The air is crisp; wearing a sweater, along with having the sun on my face, is enough to stave off the cold. Children at play are everywhere. I hear their excited voices as they anticipate the candy they’ll consume after trick-or-treating has finished and darkness falls on this idyllic street. I open my eyes and see palm trees and flowering bushes, yet the memory of time spent with friends in Long Grove is burned into my memory.
miles may separate
people from friends and places,
not their memories
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Oboyoboy… this haibun works.
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Thanks, William!
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Autumn Leaves
Your vibrancy increased, but not for long
A month or two enjoy your current hue
The colors bursting forth and not a few
The choir of cicada sing their song
The sunny days grow shorter, nights turn cold
You tremble in the crisp and spicy air
While people drive around to stop and stare
And watch the ending of your life unfold
Detaching from the limb that gave you life
You flutter like a dancer in the wind
Your graceful pirouettes you can’t rescind
You lay beside your kin like man and wife
Then rakers sweep you in a heaped up pile
And you enjoy the leapers for awhile
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The perspective here made this whole piece read like a prayer, almost. Wonderful.
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[…] Shared at Phoenix Rising […]
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