Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Autumn

  “Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.”— Albert Camus

SOURCE

“When autumn darkness falls, what we will remember are the small acts of kindness: a cake, a hug, an invitation to talk, and every single rose. These are all expressions of a nation coming together and caring about its people.”— Jens Stoltenberg

        Midweek Motif ~ Autumn

In West Bengal, India, where I live Autumn has two entities; Early, (we call it Sharat) and Late (known as Hemanta). As the Monsoon peters out, Sharat, slightly warm, sets in with a richness of fulfillment and festivity all around. While Hemanta has a distinct nip in the air; it is a pre-winter season. Our poets eulogize both.

In the US Autumn is Fall, full of vibrant colors. Foliage lights up with brilliant, yellow, red, orange. Very much scenic and beautiful. A time for lighting a fire in the fireplace. Robert Frost sings, “O hushed October morning mild, / Begin the hours of this day slow.” It’s a preparation season for the approaching 

winter.

John Keats says, “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness….thou hast thy music too, —”

And we are all ears, poets, for your autumnal music:

On A Withered Branch

by Matsuo Basho

On a withered branch

A crow has alighted

Nightfall in autumn

Autumn

by Thomas Ernest Hulme

 A touch of cold in the Autumn night

I walked abroad,

And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge

Like a red-faced farmer.

I did not stop to speak, but nodded;

And round about were the wistful stars

With white faces like town children.

November Night

by Adelaide Crapsey                       

Listen.

With faint dry sound,

Like steps of passing ghosts,

The Leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees

And fall.

Autumn

by Rainer Maria Rilke

The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,

as if orchards were dying high in space.

Each leaf falls as if it were motioning “no”.

 And tonight the heavy earth is falling

away from all other stars in the loneliness.

We’re all falling. This hand here is falling.

And look at the other one. It’s in them all.

And yet there is Someone, whose hands

Infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.

Autumn Valentine

by Dorothy Parker

In May my heart was breaking-

Oh, wide the wound, and deep!

And bitter it beat at waking,

And sore it split in sleep.

And when it came November,

I sought my heart, and sighed,

“Poor thing, do you remember?”

“What heart was that?” it cried.

Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—

                (Next week Susan’s Midweek Motif will be ~ Dark Moon, New Moon.)