I want to be some leaves.
I want to fall, to fly, to change a green, gold, brown as the happy children dive into the pool of wet, soggy, laughter;
or the love birds roll over their song.
If I can't be free, could I at least be the crescent to your moon, or the darkness to your shine?
I want to shadow you,
or shine you,
or even surround you like the twinkling stars creating a formation, bragging unity to loners all over the world.
Can I twinkle around you?
Or fall through you?
Or be the orbit that circles around forever, but never gets tired of surrounding your gleam?
Blind me through the corn maze at night, so we can search for what we've been waiting for.
If we can't go apple picking, will you carve me a pumpkin? Will you make me fall over laughing at something stupid, like how the insides of the pumpkins look like my school's cafeteria food? Or how the design you carved is irrelevant to everything but
Hold my hand tight, let my bones almost break while wandering through the Haunted House, a house of terror,
jumping from monsters played by our classmates, revealing who they truly are inside.
If I can't be the leaves, let them be me; as we fall off a hammock and into the pit of neither nostalgia or regret, but the warmth and comfort of simply knowing that we found each other,
and we're safe in these autumn bodies.
She skips down the gravel road, her thin dress rustling in the wind. She whistles and the trees take up the merry chorus. Everything she touches turns to red and gold. She inhales. She exhales. The fallen leaves join her dance. The old barn shivers, shielding his precious cargo from her impish ways. None can see her, but they all know she’s there. She tickles the old cow’s ear and laughs as it vainly tries to swish her away. Suddenly tender, she foxtrots through the fields, tucking the grass to bed, kissing them goodnight, singing them a lullaby. Then she’s back to her wild romp. The farmer’s broken fence can’t hold her; the air won’t stop her. She skims up the hill, her bare feet leaving no imprint on the cold ground. And there she dances, there she turns, and there she’ll spin 'til mother comes home.
First winter morning -
cuddled up to the bed sheets,
sipping hot choc’late
The springtime arrives, Read more »
Our last rehearsal was just every other. We ran through the songs we would sing. The notes came like a reflex to us and the rhythm was just as natural. We had been practicing for several weeks for the songs that would flow out of our mouths as we got up on the stage. Ms Tall believed in us. Later that night we would come back to school dressed in our black and white and our band pins glistening in the light.
The cafeteria was filled with the sparkling gold and red of leaves. The risers were set proudly on the front of the stage. The boys wore ties of blue and red and the girls wore their flowing black skirts. This was the earliest we had ever had a chorus concert. We were performing the beautiful songs in our head as we waited in the chorus room. It was not long until Mr Boynton ushered us onstage. Read more »
Head first I soared though the sky rushing past the planets. I felt a throb of heat to my body as I flew by the sun, it was a ball of fire whirling and twirling to close to my head. Ah now that my eyes could relax and take a break form looking at the sun I noticed that not only that was slowing down but that I could se them any stars above my head. I began to pick up speed going faster and faster, people gathered around the ground pointing up at he sky, pointing at me. I felt gravity above me and all around me, a rush the suddenly a bang, now all I could see was dirt. I was the girl who fell out of the sky.
The day was crisp, as autumn should be, yet a hint of spring permeated the atmosphere as the odd trio sauntered down the winding driveway. The girl, clearly the leader, appeared tall for being only fourteen years old. Dusty black crocs smacked the cracked pavement on her equally dirty feet. Her red fleece jacket, too large for her flimsy frame, clung desperately to her shoulders as the rest billowed out behind her pointy elbows. The playful breeze hurled her hair into her blue eyes and laughed as she carelessly attempted to restore order to it. She looked almost comical – a scarecrow against a backdrop of the breathtaking Adirondacks. Yet somehow, she belonged.
Her furry companions vied with the wind for supremacy as the breeze once more tickled their erect ears. Determined to catch the source of their teasing, the thin white legs sprung into action as their tormentor danced away. Defying gravity, the stocky lambs soared through the air after their cowardly adversary. They landed with a flourish and returned to trot alongside their lanky friend. Little black hooves scurried to keep time with big black shoes. Before they could fully regain their breath, the invisible foe again whispered a taunt in their ears and once more they cavorted away. Read more »
The air turns crisp,
Whispering sputtered secrets in my ear;
The leaves turn to gold,
Rustling notes of a somber tune;
The clouds brood,
As careless raindrops play;
Geese hurry on their way,
As Jack Frost waits,
And winter lurks;
Yet sunbeams dance;
‘Cross window panes;
Trees keep time,
Open your ears,
And open your eyes,
For Fall is alive.
I had always wanted to fly. Yeah, I was one of those kids who wanted to fly so badly they jumped off the table a couple times before it hit them that they truely couldn't fly. It was my dream to fly, and finally one day it came true. Read more »
Weather is changing
Heat is decreasing all over
Autumn leaves are coming
Trees are losing all of their leaves
Inspiring colors to your imagination
Such pretty leaves on the mountains
Falling leaves red, yellow, green, everywhere in town
Amazing patterns of colors on the trees
Little green all over the place
Little, big, medium, so many pumpkins
Twist and turn
To the wind’s melody
The dance begins afresh
Who will fall?
The wind decides,
They will all
Down one goes
To be at rest
Never to rise
A little sigh
In the air
They each await
But still they dance
For a chance
To be the last
As my feet push the pedals, I look up and see the mountains in the distance. I don’t know what their names are off the top of my head. They don’t have distinctive shapes like Camel’s Hump or Spruce Mountain. They’re just blue bluffs jutting from the earth in the distance. Closer, on a hill only a few hundred yards from me, scattered Red Maples are easily noticeable in between the evergreens and duller deciduous trees, like poplar and birch. The Red Maples have that easily recognizable bright red color in the fall that makes them extremely easy to spot. They seem like sports of fire poking up around firewood in a woodstove, when the wood has just barely caught and is crackling, not giving off much heat, just looking nice. I glide on a thin, light, heron-like road bike, barely pedaling past a field of corn. It has little room between rows and could be mistaken for a wheat field from the distance. Read more »
When I think of fall, I think of the emotion to be happy
Fall is when I was born, fall is what I thirst for.
There is no need to compare fall to any other season, because fall stands alone
You can take my pride, my friends, my life away from me, but I will always have fall
There have been so many other falls before this,
So many tons of memorys.
I remember trick or treating
I remember jumping in leaves
I remember getting up everyday and smelling the fall breeze.
In fall I smile, the only season I ever really smile in
Don't be decieved
I'm not smiling at you, im smiling at the maple trees
because they're fall and you are only you.
A time of beautiful, colorful leaves
and preparation for the long, cold winter.
When Halloween and Thanksgiving come,
guests arrive to chat, feast, and celebrate.
A time for leaf pile hopping
and thick, toasty sweaters.
When the trees turn bare
and the birds start their long trip south.
When shining frost covers the windows Read more »
(Inspired by some of Magzdoodle's pieces...) Read more »
It's always on October nights that I believe in ghosts. After I stopped always believing ghosts, now it's only sometimes. When the roads seem to be carpeted by matted leaves, and the headlights smear in the moving air, making eye contact as they pass. It's nights like that I question the moon, that I quicken my pace, that I think about ghosts.
i. Smoke is beautiful.
Twisting up from
But you know I would never put that to my lips, don't you?
ii. The thing that worries me, isn't that you're talking.
It's that I think he's going to fall & you're going to end up falling with him.
iii. The air is getting
the leaves are
Fall is coming. Read more »
Fall is Freedom
Freedom is Fall,
the time for apple crisp and hot cider,
cold morning chills on the way
to the bus stop.
As I sit here for a while,
By the pond I sit.
While the frogs sing their song,
But when their sounds die away,
It is the coming of a new season.
In the fall it is kinda chill and filled with beautiful colors on the trees that sway with the wind. When the wind blows the leaves holler in the the wind as they fall.
As I sit by the pond,
By the pond I sit.
As the frogs sing their song,
As the sound dies away,
it is the coming of a new season.
I'll never forget that day,
right in the middle of May.
Everything was cast with sunshine,
meaning for summer it was time.
I looked up and saw it all,
even more amazing than fall.
It was as mysterious as the sun,
no memories like that; it stunned.
Crazily and horribly beautiful,
so fake you could call fanciful.
With the force of thunder at midnight,
I could feel my heart skip a beat.
I lost sight;
but I knew to fear there was no need,
and from my lips came the words:
That was the most brilliant color blue I've ever seen.
Even angels fall down
By Abram Capone
Rice Memorial High School, Grade 11
Our lives don't always go the way we planned,
But even in the ocean there's a piece of land.
A piece of hope or some salvation,
Saving us all from condemnation.
We need to pick our rosebuds while we may,
Smell the flowers and seize the day.
Remember your heart is window to your soul,
To open it up takes lots of self control.
The hardest thing to remember is….
Sometimes even our angels fall down,
But you should never see that as a reason to frown. Read more »
I love the color and shapes of Fall. i remember when me and my brother, Josh, used to jump in the colorful leaves of many shapes and sizes. I was four and my brother was six. It would be so fun to jump in the leaves. Then we would rake them up. My favorite season is Fall. I can't believe how many colors there are!I don't know why, but Fall is so great.
barely fifty degrees,
but the radiating sun still shines,
transforming my summer-goldened strands of hair
into flying sparks of fire
the wind gently sighs,
lifting them so they contrast against
a miraculously auburn landscape
the sight will be blazed into my memory
for the eternity of winters
dry summer dust trudges across
the leave-dominated stone path
it craves the rain that summer so readily supplied,
but that fall is so stingy about
as my taste buds swim in a macintosh apple sea,
geese sorrowfully sound off overhead;
they sing of summer's majesty,
but reluctantly grieve autumn's victory
in the battle of seasons
blushing trees cry tangerine teardrops,
wondering why their heirloom jewels are being taken
the frail leaves scuttle about the dying grass,
weathered brown like a grandfather's wise face,
each deepening wrinkle a tribute
to a life experience they once enriched in
they dream of the three months
of luscious emerald glory they basked in
dreading now how they are humbled as we all are
to the frigid, indifferent earth.
when the shattering silence of winter deafens me,
i will only look into my picture of autumn
to remember a kingdom ablazed in ruby Read more »
the mountain sits in front of me
as i sit here
surround my soul
as a brezze goes through me
knocking me into a daze
fall has taken over my body
the leaves gracefuly fall down
like dancers in the wind
and cover the ground
in a blanket
Sonnet 18 ½
Shall I compare thee to an autumn’s dawn
The cover of nighttime has finally gone
And now I can see all your beauty inside
And all of the weakness that you tried to hide
Shall I compare thee to an autumn’s day
Your gilded skin shines like the harvested hay
Your hair falls like leaves down the lines of your face
The wind whips it like wheat, flowing with grace
Your love seems to grow like corn in a field
But nobody knows just how much it will yield
Shall I compare thee to an autumn’s night
Your eyes sparkle like stars and shed their own light Read more »
Some say that the way to make a good garden is location. Some say it’s the soil. Some say its what you put on the crops that makes them grow. I would say that it needs sunlight with a little shade in the later hours of the day. It needs to be tended to regularly. The more you pick the crops, the more you get out of the plants themselves. Manure is a good thing to look at getting. I use it every year. The thing that I just absolutely love about it is what you get out of it. This is a side of me that not a lot of people know about. I have had a lot of success with gardening myself. Read more »
Spring is leaving us
As the new season begins
It is cold and brisk
I've always been a little weird about apples.
I eat them if they are chunked, or if I have picked them off a tree myself. When I was six I used to demand apples multiple times a day, which was difficult for my parents. But they would drive me out to an orchard that was half an hour away. I'd get my own bucket and my father would carry around a wooden ladder with chipping green paint until I found a tree that smelled right. It had to smell like apple skin, apple pie, and dirt. And Halloween. When I'd find it, my father would lean the ladder against the trunk of the tree and slowly, I'd put a dewy, light-up sneaker on the first rung, and make my way up. My tiny, thick hands wrapped around green paint chips. Read more »