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Vianne Lior Feb 9
I watched you leave slow
like autumn forgetting leaves,
bare, I stood in frost.
Maria Feb 4
I want to be your scarf,
So soft and mohair,
To warm you in snowfalls
And even in rainy autumn.

I will embrace your neck
Like a mother cradles her child.
I’ll save the warmth for you.
Put on the scarf, be so kind.

I want to be your scarf.
Oh, don’t wear scarfs? Well now,
If I can’t softly warm you,
I’ll be your skin somehow.
neth jones Jan 29
arthritis tippled wooden relief    plugged in a bed of mud
the leaves that decay to its side                                   
                          comp­liment the carved ones that feather the face
but it is creaked   crevice and sinuous  
  a kind crumpled face  or maybe a stern  yet approving  parent mask
two seasons of weathering                                                    
  ­                            withered   saturated and withered again      
this self unearthing
worth moulded from
the decaying green man
reapplying  for a creative birth
for a visit  on the Autumn hearth
filling in its ****** details     with broken and discarded
school yard pencils   scudded over litter  and mud
soon to be worshiped again...
would settle for a respectful gift        from a child

for all his wonders in spring                                            
              ­                  he has envied the witness of harvest
but attention goes to other gods

he pouts  out of season     for no one here  greets him
Madeon Jan 23
As well as the writer’s balcony
Dressed in the ruins of summer,
Autumn slides,
Crowding at the edges of wakefulness.
The still undiscovered adventure,
Sadness being beautiful.
Maria Jan 18
I’m painting my love in autumn colors.
I’m painting the flame of leaves underfoot,
The greyish sky, rainy and foggy.
The crying love is a natural mood.

Boarded benches are in the park
Under the shade of naked trees.
And fog is ahead, lots of fog.
My love is hidden in it indeed.

Behind the fog my love is flowing
Inexorably, irrevocably like a water.
It’s running off to nowhere away,
Without a trace forever in autumn.
Zeno Jan 16
I saw a well that was all
familiar to me
Down beneath hides
the coldest winter,
a barren land so gray and empty  

A murky water, pulling me
like a vortex screaming my name
The shadow crawling over my body
binding me

While an ancient Sumerian god
drumming its hands
on the chambers of my heart,
the harrowing melody that stirs every beat
and a dark symphony that sings
of annihilation

******* all the air in the world
each autumn leaves of my lungs
falling apart, one by one

In the roots, where it crawls
twisting and slithering
forming a knot
around my stomach
Like I'm hanging from a tree
that peers over the edge
of the world

A monster hiding beneath
in the darkness of the well
looking back,
to me that was once alive
now lifeless and empty
Bea Hespera Jan 6
Leaves fall all around
Collapsing to the ground
As the days pass
Shriveling in the grass
The weather gets colder
The weight gets heavier on my shoulders
My mind gets darker like the night
The snow is all that is in sight
This morning, I come to my table once more,
A cup of coffee gently steams,
Warming hands that feel weighted down
Again and again, I type my goodbye,
But I always delete it, hoping there’s still something else I can do.

You, who have filled my days until now,
Like mornings begun with easy conversations,
And afternoons spent lost in tasks, one after another—
Today, it feels different, as the countdown begins.

The longer I sit, the more I realize this chair no longer fits me
I trace the quiet walls, so familiar with laughter, complaints, and tireless effort
Each corner here has its own story.

Though my heart is still full, I know I must leave
Tomorrow, someone else will sit here, bringing even bigger dreams
For now, I leave my memories in this last sip of coffee,
Heading to the door that’s always greeted me each morning,
Now releasing me gently, like a Momiji branch lets go of its leaves around the building in autumn.
David Cunha Dec 2024
Streets shrouded in mist
Lamps of a yellow hue
Awe contemplation
- David Cunha
december 6, 2024
at dusk
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