Autumn Poetry Contest - PART B - VOTE NOW!!!
We had such an overwhelming response to the contest, that I need to do a series of polls to narrow down to the winner!
The first round will consist of 2 polls of 7 poems each. The top 4 will advance in each poll. The poems will appear in the order they were submitted!
So here we go!!!
1. Jon...
The beauty of leprosy
The search for food and I struggle again
Oh how you all marvel at the beauty of my pain
I slowly starve and you gawk at the colors of my decay
I shade you for the hot season and then I am merely a display
My body changes colors as my energy is sapped
I hold little reserve to be tapped
I withdraw into myself as body parts turn brown
Then, in a few days you must harvest them from the ground.
Your back aches from cleaning up after my leprosy
Let’s make a deal among all of you and all of we.
You ask that yellow disk to always stay in the sky
And we will spare you the mess each year as our hunters die
2. alinda...
When I was a young girl
as summer faded slow,
We kids would rake the yard
the parents pride you know.
For hours it seemed we'd gather
the remnants of its glory
Father would take some and
set them afire, the smell of it
still in my memory...
It was always permitted tho'
before that last leaf fell
to make that one last pile.
Then we would laugh and leap
into the late days dream.
I remember, and still smile.
3. educatedlady...
The Change
The trees grow bare
Skies a gloomy grey
Reds, golds and browns
Mix together in death and beauty.
Soon the snow will begin and
I will say farewell to autumn.
4. Jean...
Autumn Chant
Bright are the colors of doom and defeat,
Funeral wreaths please the eye of the dead,
Red-cloaked drummers will beat a retreat,
Hope me no hopes, for the future is read.
Show me no rubies, no gold of the loot:
Bright are the colors of doom and defeat,
Frail was the armor you crush underfoot,
Red-cloaked drummers will beat a retreat.
Colors of gore come to lighten the grief:
Funeral wreaths please the eye of the dead.
Scarlet the plague that will ravage your fief.
Hope me no hopes, for the future is read.
5. Thaine Rogers...
One fine day
The air tastes crisp
Cold
Stark
Against my tongue.
Every inhalation
breath
moment
is another taste of autumn.
Golden yellow leaves fall
topple
drift
And settle soundlessly on the pavement.
Where they sit
Snap
Mumble
Underneath the boots and shoes of a thousand hurrying souls.
One fine day.
One fine day
6. BROWNINGS CHILDE...
All Hallow's Eve
The westering sun soaks the earth,
With tints of burning crimson.
Sinister shadows creep behind,
Or crawl along ahead.
All Hallows Eve's crepuscular rays,
Bring gloaming death in season.
The darkness bests the sun's assault,
And fills the soul with dread.
The children laugh from door to door,
As demons watch and wait.
Ensconsed within each gloom and shade,
They'll stay untill they've fed.
As monster's scream from plastic masks,
With threats of "Trick or Treat",
The real ghouls lurk with growing need,
To rent, and tear, and shred.
A groaning wind whines through the trees,
It whispers and it sighes.
Jack-O-Lanterns search the night,
With eyes of gleaming red.
As ghosts and witches roam the streets,
A straggler falls behind.
The ambush happens silently,
And in the dark he's bled.
Though most will make it home of course,
With candy in their bags.
At least in one child's room tonight,
There'll be an empty bed.
7. Gaberax...
Autumnal Sacrament
The old oak tree outside my front door laughs.
Shaking its great shaggy mane of yellows and browns and reds.
Shedding its frabjous green summer coat, now worn in patches, of ochre and umber and carmine.
Stretching, yawning and twisting its mighty limbs in the cooling evening breezes.
Basking in the pale fading sunlight.
Anticipating another winter’s hibernation.
Tucked away inside itself; silent and still.
Sleepily admiring the work it has prepared for me.
Spring’s leaves of promise; contorted and desiccated
A mottled arabesque littering the earth below
Waiting for my final rituals of plastic rake and garbage bags and aching muscles
And pagan fires
Lit beneath its gnarled branches.
Humble votives
Ambrosia to imaginary Gods
A silent prayer for us both
For safe passage through the coming darkness
To the promise of the light
Beyond.
Grrr...
Originally Posted by Jon
Thanks for the votes on my little piece
