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On Autumns Earth

This is the beginning
Now carry me away
On to the faraway new day
That now is born to play

Yes this is the beginning
Moments dreamed and found
Everything in its singing
That comes again around

Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role

Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
On autumn´s earth

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poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Autumn

Summer droplets sweating on autumn
Perspiring brother builds his equinox column
Provoked earth invokes southwesterly solemn
For humans ever summer they condemn

Autumn is good barbering the trees
To brown and wither strewn their leaves
On Adiperukku blessed autumn by swelling rivers
Sow to later blossom variable the seeds

Questing along with the fluttering southwesterly
Autumn clinks and clinks bangles genuinely
On Adipooram with all goddesses thoroughly
Marking the goddess of genesis augustly

Autumn is the sacred son of goddess Amma
Holi-dipped on Adi amavasai turns the cause of arcana
Ere monsoon enters into nature's arena
For soothing autumn a continual hosanna

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poem by Indira Renganathan
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Chant d'automne (Song Of Autumn)

I

Bientôt nous plongerons dans les froides ténèbres;
Adieu, vive clarté de nos étés trop courts!
J'entends déjà tomber avec des chocs funèbres
Le bois retentissant sur le pavé des cours.

Tout l'hiver va rentrer dans mon être: colère,
Haine, frissons, horreur, labeur dur et forcé,
Et, comme le soleil dans son enfer polaire,
Mon coeur ne sera plus qu'un bloc rouge et glacé.

J'écoute en frémissant chaque bûche qui tombe
L'échafaud qu'on bâtit n'a pas d'écho plus sourd.
Mon esprit est pareil à la tour qui succombe
Sous les coups du bélier infatigable et lourd.

II me semble, bercé par ce choc monotone,
Qu'on cloue en grande hâte un cercueil quelque part.
Pour qui? — C'était hier l'été; voici l'automne!

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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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When I See Autumn

I see autumn in dancing leaves.
I see autumn in words of poets.
I listen the breeze of autumn in your heart beat.
Which touches my heart when I hug you softly.
I fly in autumn higher and higher.
With a zig zag flow the more I get lighter.
I taste the fruits gifted by trees.
Celebrating and sharing the blessings of autumn.
If you search me please do it soon.
I may get lost in the bushes of autumn.
I get green and green with orange purple flowers.
When the leaves all around me give me the showers.
I dance with the chanting sparrows.
I forget all of my sorrows.
I get lost, lost and lost in the arms of God.
I become numb and dumb when I see autumn.

This poem I write in response of Seema Choudhary's poem 'Beauty of Autumn' and I give her the credit.

poem by Ramesh Kavdia
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Autumn Love

I met her in the autumn;
When such are found, you know.
She said, 'In all her glory.'
Though joking, oh how so!

So true, I did inform her.
But then, to no surprise.
Such things are never certain
In autumn's paradise.

An autumn love, so firmly,
May grasp a loving heart;
It still may seem together,
Though broken from the start.

Through autumn, when it found me.
Through winter's frozen years.
Such love alive in springtime,
Brings forth a rain of tears.

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poem by Greenwolfe 1962
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Season of Mists

I thank you for your view of a view of autumn, Keats
who never saw your own autumn with its actual pitfalls.
Yours was the autumn of childhood, of hope, or romance, of belief,
my mother's autumn though not that of her hardworking family,
yours was never my father's autumn, season of mists,
and yours is not mine. My autumn
for all I would like to subscribe to your lavish play,
is like yours only in single ways each year,
perhaps there are swallows making a din,
or plums and apples falling wasp-eaten, unharvestable.
There is no sickle in my vocabulary or shed,
my autumn is based more on dread of the winter
and having had so little time each summer
to tidy or attend to the garden. Last year
early snow fell on flower baskets ditched from the street
and remained both snow and baskets until the spring
leaving me two seasons behind, without strategy
for a fast approaching repeat autumn, little wonder
and no chance to make anything faintly rhyme,
such is our modern poetry and life

poem by Sally Evans
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The Autumn Months Splendor

The Autumn Months Melody
The hot summer days are gone and rolled by
The cool autumn months have once again arrived
The autumn majestic spirit permeates the land
It is another new day of autumn
The far sun above the horizon sends its rays and gentle warmth
on the valleys, mountains and hamlets
Nature has dressed in beautiful colors
The jolly trees are painted with red, yellow and brown
The autumn trees adorn the valleys and mountains that hug the skies
It is a portrait of panoramic dazzle
The brisk wind blows over the meadows
The cool wind sweeps the plains and fields
The tall trees dance and bow gently in grace
The tree branches hiss, swing and sway
The shivering leaves quiver with the wind
The green pastures are dotted with a mosaic
of dried brownish scattered leaves
Joining autumn happy symphony
The singing joyous birds, the playful beavers

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poem by Sherif Monem
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Autumn Almanac

From the dew-soaked hedge creeps a crawly caterpillar,
When the dawn begins to crack.
Its all part of my autumn almanac.
Breeze blows leaves of a musty[mustard? ]-coloured yellow,
So I sweep them in my sack.
Yes, yes, yes, its my autumn almanac.
Friday evenings, people get together,
Hiding from the weather.
Tea and toasted, buttered currant buns
Cant compensate for lack of sun,
Because the summers all gone.
La-la-la-la...
Oh, my poor rheumatic back
Yes, yes, yes, its my autumn almanac.
La-la-la-la...
Oh, my autumn almanac
Yes, yes, yes, its my autumn almanac.
I like my football on a saturday,
Roast beef on sundays, all right.
I go to blackpool for my holidays,

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song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Four Seasons : Autumn

Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost
Nitrous prepared; the various blossom'd Spring
Put in white promise forth; and Summer-suns
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view,
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme.
Onslow! the Muse, ambitious of thy name,
To grace, inspire, and dignify her song,
Would from the public voice thy gentle ear
A while engage. Thy noble cares she knows,
The patriot virtues that distend thy thought,
Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow;
While listening senates hang upon thy tongue,
Devolving through the maze of eloquence
A roll of periods, sweeter than her song.
But she too pants for public virtue, she,
Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will,
Whene'er her country rushes on her heart,

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poem by James Thomson
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It's Autumn Again

It’s autumn again
Leaves whisper the sound of our past
In loss they pay a descent
To the ground we fall

It’s autumn again
Our song is sung by the wind
Echoes of loss and grief
Through chilled air we wade

It’s autumn again
The waters grow as cold as our hearts
We are alike – crusted in ice
In ourselves we freeze

It’s autumn again
Flowers vanish from our sadness
Our beauty grows weak
Covered in frost we wither

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poem by Andrea Rieck
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