THEME POETRY
Each issue has a new theme - take a look at previous issues below and click to read them all!
NOVEMBER 2020 = AUTUMN
Autumn
Neil Saltmarsh
England
I love to walk in the wild forest
In Autumn, when the ground is blessed
With a crackling carpet, of dry red leaves,
Which scurry about, as the brisk wind weaves
In and out, between the trees
Leaving piles here and there, as deep as my knees!
The naked bushes have less to hide
So the fox, the badger, and deer are spied
As they move around, trying not to be seen,
Like they could last month,
when the leaves were green.
They can hear me coming, by the rustle and crack,
But they're not concerned, as I stay on the track.
Alas, the birdsong now has died.
Nor can I see one, though I've tried.
They must have moved to a warmer place,
Where food is put out, in garden space.
So, now to see them, I must go home
And find them sitting atop my gnomes!
Leaving the forest, I retrace my tracks.
Now lifting my collar, the wind at my back.
And, over my shoulder, uplifted, I see
Those great, tall trees are waving at me.
As if my leaving might cause them pain!
Farewell, my friends. I'll come again
Autumn
Darshana Thapa
India
Here comes a season colourful with gay,
Paddy fields are so rich with golden hay,
Season of harvesting the paddy I say,
Dancing and singing separating food grains from hay.
Trees are bare since leaves are scattered everywhere,
Golden, brown, green and yellow,
With ripened fruit so delicious everywhere,
I imagine if I were a monkey, I would climb up the tree,
Swinging from branch to branch I would feel free,
Eating apples, bananas, guavas jumping from tree to tree.
Oh! Just feel the breeze, flying away leaves,
falling and kissing the ground without any sound,
it is just a wonderful season with fresh air all around,
Snow capped peak visible feeling profound.
Touch and stamp the leaves feel like eating chips,
So crunchy and crispy feel like dancing all around,
Stamping the leaves one, two, three, four,
oh, it is difficult to score,
let me go!
I imagine the maple leaves falling all around,
with birds chirping , singing and flying,
with blankets of clouds hiding the blue sky high above,
creating romantic mood for lovebirds sitting around.
Hidden
Kassie Runyan
United States
Autumn leaves
over a new house
covering it in gold
like a linen
over a plastic table
to hide the grey.
It provides character
to a characterless mold.
Life to a box
that was placed
in between other boxes
where people forget
the beige world
that resides beneath
the crumpling
crinkling
crumbling
sea of bold
orange and gold.
Autumn
Mel Haagman
England
The crisp autumnal air
That I so love to inhale,
And the crunch of flattened leaves
Left behind me as trail.
The temperature, refreshing,
As it hits my pale skin,
And I feel a sense of happiness
From somewhere deep within.
Autumn is my favourite season,
The clothes are just the best,
The boots and the jackets,
But no need to wear a vest.
Halloween and fireworks,
Toffee apples on a stick,
The days are dark so early,
And they fly by like in a tick.
Sitting by a fire, in a warm, toasty pub,
Making soups and winter stews,
Yes, I love the summer sun,
But, It’s Autumn I would choose.
The Universe
Genevieve Lyons
United States
The universe
It’s expanding, they say
Or is it contracting?
They say It is indifferent; it asks for nothing
I know that’s not true
It asks—no, demands, our attention
Why else would I have these senses?
The five I learned about in school
And all the others:
Intuition, anxiety, joy
Injustice and justice and empathy
Like waves that roll and lap
Like electric prickles that poke and zap
Like fingers slammed in a door
So many sensations I did not try to feel
The universe insisted
The universe (that) made me
From a star-explosion/collision
It is only natural, would result in
Sparkles of light and also white-hot rage.
The Secret Dream
Asoke Kumar Mitra
India
The moon swallowed the dark
Broken dreams silently hanging
Through the window pane,
A rusted frame of night
Stars twinkle gently
Owls moaning
Dreams are fragile glass
Untold story of joy and pain
Come alive with words you have not spoken
This night beside the window
Eyes speak a thousand words
In silence
What are the colors of rain
Falling like lost dreams…
Forgive, but never to trust again.
The Garden & The Tree
Tate Gentry
United States
In my yard is a garden,
Near the shade of a tree,
Every Autumn the story is the same.
It casts its refuse haphazardly down,
Uncaring of the plants I have so delicately tended.
Seeing this unfold I decide today will be the day.
I prepare my axe,
A cold, sharp blade,
It fills my hands with terrible purpose.
I am resigned to the work,
Laying axe to root,
Doom, it seemed, was certain.
Raising my blade,
I lift my eyes,
Beholding a strange, and familiar glory.
Through the near barren branches,
Golden rays of light came cascading down,
Illuminating me in all my folly.
I drop the axe,
Letting it fall to the earth,
How could I commit so great a sin?
If I had felled that tree,
A precious thing would be lost,
And I could not see the light that way again.
Rustic Autumn
Bilkis Moola
South Africa
We’re getting into Zooming,
Oh, Autumn! Rustle your hues:
Of ochre, gold and melancholic adieus -
To summer in his blazing retreat,
Perforate your fires as flaming feats!
Leaves on trees tingle at your tinge -
Swathes of red and caresses of orange.
What whispers in your breeze beseech -
The passing of seasons and farewell entreat?
Harvest the fruits of a summer gone -
Before the approach of winter in her chilly dawn.
Rueful prints of abundant shrubs
Flush as fading colours in a rustic dusk.
Earthy tones as passionate plumes -
Fall in swirling cascades of leafy volumes.
To carpet a ground in a brittle spread
Crushed underfoot in a restless bed.
Oh, Autumn! Rustle your hues:
Season of mixed temperament and mingling costumes.
Kindle flourescence as radiations of light
In flourishing splendour of warmth and delight!
Memories of Autumn
Asoke Kumar Mitra
India
Fragrant days of autumn
Chariot of clouds at dusk
Here the clay goddess come
Carries all my songs
The golden touch of her feet
Makes my joy to shine infinite
Birds sing in the morning
And the whispers of the wind
Flutes sound and the laughter
After four days—
Memories swirling into nowhere
Plunged into a sea of silence…
Ode to a Floral Dream
Aminath Neena
Maldives
Oh Fuchsia!
Thou who bring the summer’s song
to autumn’s crispy ears
Neither the pink gloss of camellia
Nor the satin gown of dahlia
Doeth pave justice
To thy magnum opus charisma
Oh Fuchsia
Thou who bring the summer’s song
to autumn’s crispy ears
Gentle friend of midsummer begonia
Companion of summer blue lobelia
Thy demure belittles the aura
And dazzle of all seasonal forsythia
Oh Fuchsia
Thou who bring the summer’s song
to autumn’s crispy ears
Curled velvet of Petunia
violet lips of glazed ambrosia
Thy bloom lone canst suffice
To the homosapien heart's dystopia
Oh Fuchsia
Thou who bring the summer’s song
to autumn’s crispy ears
Pentamerous petals of peachy freesia
Clutching onto shades of sun kissed zinnia
Thy sultry pout hath shamed
many a lovers' wanton euphoria
Oh Fuchsia!
Thou who bring the summer’s song
to autumn’s crispy ears
My earthly floral Isabella
Wearing thy autumny tinted penumbra
Dreamt have I so for mine espousal chemise
Thy beauty smiling in a roseate veiled tiara
Fuchsia! Oh Fuchsia!
I beg thee; let not this be
one ficklest dream of utopia
these things sign of autumn
Linda Crate
United States
Facebook.com/Linda-M-Crate-129813357119547/
Instagram.com/authorlindamcrate/
once my hair
was crimson as an autumn leaf,
and the sun shown gold
upon my flesh;
and those are the moments
i live for
those little snapshots
you cannot forget—
times spent with family and friends
even moments spent in solitude
that are so lovely you cannot forget
in autumn i find the colors
of my hair change like the hues of
autumn leaves,
and so i feel connected to this season;
pumpkin spice & apple cider
are both welcome at my house—
halloween costumes,
witchy movies and long thick skirts;
cute boots and the crisp crunch
of autumn leaves in my step
these are things that feel and smell and sing
of autumn.
Autumn Leaves: Girl
Genevieve Ray
England
A child stands alone
in a field that used to be green.
She's been here before
in the elegance of summer,
in the sunlight of her dreams.
Trees whisper around her,
telling the sighing stories
of what winter will become
if you really listen to the breeze,
the dance and the hum.
Blinded by autumn leaves,
the song between the trees,
the little girl dances,
whirling carelessly, mini-tornado,
in childlike ecstasy.
She dreams of being older,
taking her own little ones
to find the mysteries
of an ever autumnal sun.
She will teach the Latin words
for the season that she loves.
From all Hallow's eve
to the ending fires of harvest stars.
What We So Miss
Michaela Jane Fuller
United States
Brown leaves appear upon the trees,
The bees disappear from sight,
People wrap themselves in warmer clothes,
And the days, they lose their light.
Pubs begin to light their fires,
People flock to nearby seats,
And on every chalk pub menu,
Is a selection of warming, roasted meats.
Apples fall from orchard trees,
Blackberries are in full force,
And people gorge on apple pies,
With not a glimmer of remorse.
For now’s the time to stay nice and warm,
To keep the energy levels high,
The animals go into hibernation,
Yet we don’t and I ponder why.
It’s the time to turn the heating on,
And get the old jumpers out,
And hope for sparklers and fireworks,
With “ooo” and “ahh” type shouts.
And even though this year may differ,
From the season we love and know,
There’s no reason to feel too blue,
On account of the firework no-show.
Halloween may be cancelled,
But that’s not a reason to be sad,
You can still dress up as a vampire,
Who cares if people think you’re mad?
Make the most of this season,
Do what you can to make it fun,
Because things will go back to normal,
Next year when humanity has won.
So practice your firework “ooos” and “ahhs,”
Practice your vampire hiss,
As next year it will be back on plan,
And we will have what we so missed.
A Friend of Autumn
Loti Uwatabaye
Rwanda
I remember and portray;
Patience is the autumn's nature.
When the arrogant sun
burns the chlorophyll,
I become desperate.
But just like the ferns,
I stand firm.
The big autumn tree says,
'I balance freely in nature.'
Without leaves,
living for love,
waving in every side
for the autumn poet
to compose a rhyme
under its open shelter.
I remember and portray;
How they kissed in the season.
Leaning to the woods,
feeling the moods.
As they climb the branches,
singing songs like birds
of the same feather,
they chase away my solitude.
No matter when leaves shade off,
poets are friends who never leave.
I absolutely love it
when the leaves fall.
Because I can compose
each line spontaneously.
After all, every shade
is poetically nurtured,
inspired by the autumn.
MEET THE TEAM
Mel
Mel is a special needs teacher from the UK. She lives by the sea and loves nothing more than walking along the beach with a coffee from her favourite cafe. She has always loved reading and writing poetry.
Kassie
Kassie is a poet and fiction author from NYC. She spends her days working in marketing and her nights writing and designing... when she isn't traveling and trying to find the next best brewery.