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Wednesday, September 28, 2016


No, I am not talking about the Holiday Season. (Bet you thought for a minute there I  was getting ahead of myself, didn't you?) But I could be justified in doing so since that season has been confronting us in stores and the media since the 4th of July. To clarify, the subject of this post is the fall season.

Every year, I welcome signs of spring, and enjoy summer's abundance, but I bask in the fulfillment of autumn most of all. There is something about nature's burst of glorious colors just before earth's winter sleep that is both exhilarating and sad.  And it inspires me to attempt to put that feeling into words. Autumn is the season when my thoughts are most likely to spill over into poems and I want to share a few of these with you. I write varied forms of poetry but am usually described as a lyric poet and the poems here are of that classification,  although I have included haiku for those who prefer prose. 
I invite you to take a few moments from your busy day to have a cup of apple cider and a slice of gingerbread while you read the poems below. (Please don't get crumbs on your computer) I hope the words will paint autumn scenes in your heart to remember long after the last leaf has fallen. 


Once vibrant autumn colors,
subdued but clinging still,
reflect past season's beauty
defying winter's chill.
Though fragile now and faded,
they flaunt survival's will
made rare by lack of number,
undaunted, clinging still.
~ ~ ~
Fingers of wind weave
A bright autumn tapestry
As leaves drift toward ground
~ ~ ~

I miss you most in autumn
when maple leaves are gold
 and early twilight subtly hints
 of winter's biting cold.

I long for you in autumn
 when shadows fill the sky
 as wavering wings of wild geese
 echo their lonely cry.

I wish for you in autumn
 to walk where frost has browned
 the slender ripened stalks of grain
 now dying on the ground.

I grieve for you in autumn
 when gentle  rain-kissed wind
 plays hide-and-seek with harvest moon
 that marks the summer's end.

I miss you most in autumn,
 but then I should have known
 there would be many autumns
 and I would be alone.
~ ~ ~
Incandescent lamps
 Illumine autumn's twilight
 Maple trees gleam gold

~ ~ ~

The towering oaks stand silent by the road
 that winds below the sturdy limbs they spread
 to intertwine and shelter this abode.
 Brief golden canopies now laud these dead
 who lie beneath a century of dust,
 all splendor spent. And now the battle's sound
 is choked, muffled in cannons cloaked in rust,
 still guarding those who fought to hold this ground.
 The rows of stones that mark each place in time
seem endless even as the leaves. Gray hue
of monuments wreathed in September's rime
now consecrate this hallowed ground anew.
Brave men of North and South now peaceful lie.
And yet, a silent question haunts us.  Why?
~ ~ ~
Honking in transit
 Impatient heavy traffic
 On skyway express
~ ~ ~

No sound, only silence
 as September days fly
 on wild geese wings
 that shadow sapphire sky;
 as winsome wind flings
 the flaming leaves high;
 as gilded golden sun
 reflects a lovely lie;
 but I know summer's done
 and all things die.
  ~ ~ ~
Bright colors bleeding
Orange, gold, red from rain-washed limbs
September's last stand
~ ~ ~

All of these poems except the first are from A Potpourri of Poems, available from Amazon and other distributors in print and ebook. It contains almost one hundred poems and thirty-three full color pictures. Or if you prefer to hear the poems read by the lovely voice of Becky Doughty you can also purchase an audible edition.


  1. I thought your poetry was just beautiful and emotionally moving. I admire your ability to write Haiku. I could not write it if my life depended on it. Well, I'd try if that was the case, but it would never be good.
    My sister and I used to read poetry to each other from the time we were very young. I wrote poetry in my early years, but honestly, I don't believe I was ever that good at it.
    Autumn does seem like an inspiring time of year. It is also my favorite time of year in spite of the fact that it precedes winter of which I am no fan at all.
    This was such a wonderful post, Linda. I enjoyed it so much.

  2. Thank you, Sarah. Your words always warm my heart. And I feel certain you could write wonderful poetry. I think the word "poet" scares people because they equate it with some intellectual high-brow. I never say that I am a poet. I consider that I write poems and there is a big difference. Poems are just stories that are shorter on the page (in most cases) or talking written down. And Haiku is really the easiest of all. Traditional Haiku is 3 lines of 5-7-5 syllables and it paints a picture or catches a moment in time. It doesn't contain a message, it just "is." So, go write a Haiku while you are inspired by autumn!

  3. Thank you so much for your kind words. And for always supporting the authors who write these posts. When we get few comments it is always discouraging so I know I speak of others as well as myself when I say that it is greatly appreciated.

  4. I have this book...in print..and pull it down once in a while to re-read one or two. Reading poetry is soothing, I think, I breathe more slowly...because I read poetry slowly--do you? Books? I'm never a fast reader, but I read at a reasonably fast pace, at least. But poetry--every word is to be savored, and reread...you know my favorites in Potpourri of Poems. Now, I'll have to take this off the bookcase and read a few selections. Maybe it will drown out the political yammering we can't seem to get away from.
    Thanks for a wonderful selection of your many poems. I wish I were as talented--one of the few ways we differ.

  5. Thank you for your thoughts on poetry which I totally agree with. I, too, savor every word I read in poetry. Because a poem is more concise than prose, each word has to be important. As for writing poetry being one way we differ...true. But remember, I've never played golf! As always, thanks for your support and help with posting.

  6. I love your books of poetry. I think many of us often forget to take those few moments and write those little vignettes/slivers of life that stay with us. I think of poetry as an anchor for memories.I love the sing-song rhymes, but poetry does not require such structure. But it's a wonderful way to stretch the mind if we write it, and it's a delicious treat for the brain to read it.

    You are a poet, Linda! And a wonderful spinner of tales!

  7. Thank you for your kind words, Elizabeth Ayers, and for your thoughtful comments on the meaning of poetry. I will remember your definition of poetry as an anchor for memories. For me, at least, it is a more emotional experience that writing fiction. I am always awed by this means of expressing so much in so few
    words. I'm so happy that you stopped by.

  8. A cup of apple cider and a slice of gingerbread sounds perfect while you reading your book of poetry. Thanks for sharing a few of your Autumn poems.


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