Entries by members of our message board

The poems are the results of a writing challenge.

~ September Has Arrived ~




I do love the month of September
As the lovely red and russet glows
Itís time to pick the harvest fruits
As the gentle winds do blow.

A pleasant walk into the woods
Where leaves of copper, are piled in a mound.
The fruit berries are ready to pick
And ripened ones fall to the ground.

As spiders spin their lacy webs
And robins with their bright redbreast
There is no month that even compares
As September is simply the best.

By Dee (traveller94@hotmail.com)



What is This September Morn Like for You?

I have this song on my computer's playlist
It conjures up a wood nymph, rising in the mist
A walk down a forest path with Billy, once a love
Beneath September skies, so blue up above

We were so young and full of life
We promised to become husband and wife
At fourteen and fifteen we had our dreams
Nothing was impossible back then it seems

We lay by the water and talked of many things
When you were old enough, you'd buy me diamond rings
We'd have our house with the picket fence
So young and full of life, but no common sense

Early in the day, we met to be together
Gloried in the September morning weather
Red, yellow, brown, golden leaves all 'round
Sun shone down on new love found

But September mornings tend to turn cold
Deep into Fall then winter comes in so bold
We grew up and went our own ways
But ahhhh, we both look back on those September days.

By susi (Texaswishr@aol.com)



September Has Arrived

Itís so hot this September morn
All the bunnies look forlorn
Theyíve learned to turn faucet on
Taking off their fur they don

Roadrunners walk instead of run
Because itís so hot in desert sun
Ground squirrels go to swim in lake
For cooling off for cooling sake

Stick lizards carry a stick
Laying it down to hop on quick
So they wonít burn their feet
One I saw eating an ice cream treat

Birds sit waving wings in tree
To fan their friends without a fee
Itís so hot this September morn
All the wildlife look forlorn

By Sharon (ByGolly25@aol.com)



Autumn Fills My Senses

Autumn Fills My Senses Trees offer a riot of color:
green turns to red, yellow, orange,
persimmon, and crimson,
shades mimicked
in sunrise and sunset.

Fences and street lamps decorated
with dried corn sheaves and husks,
front yard and window displays of
ghosts, goblins, spiders and pumpkins,
forays into haunted houses and corn mazes.

The distinctive sound of Canada Geese honking,
the final buzzing of bees, wasps and hornets
as the seasonís work is done,
the hiss and pop of sprinklers in the neighborhood
as they are turned off before first frost.

At a touch, once firm brown cattails
burst their rust brown pods
dispersing downy fluff and seeds,
berries squeezed dry of their juices,
leaves become brittle, crumble in your fingers.

The crunch of apples that snap at a bite,
their hot softness baked in pies and crisps,
the sweetness of cider from a farm stand,
the taste of pumpkin pie lavishly
spiced with ginger, cloves and nutmeg.

The sharp earthy aroma
of decaying vegetation near the pond,
the pungent smell of wood smoke as it curls
into early morning and evening air,
the tantalizing tang of autumn odors,
a sense of cold and pristine winter to come.

By Cottagelady (Patience@bresnan.net)



September Has Arrived

September out west
at its best
is still not cool
and that is the rule

October brings a few cool days
especially in the evening rays
September is hot in the nineties or so
at night its still in the eighties i know

This August we broke the record for high temps
and i am writng this all in order to vent
so hot I am
I cannot jam
I cannot walk to the store
its usually one-hundred-and-four

Im stuck inside like folks back east
when their temps sink down to the 0 beast
hibernate we all do this a lot
complain of the weather whether we like it or not.

By Amy (fabulousfilly@aol.com)



Mythical September

I will make up a month called ďSeptemberĒ
It will arrive like a cooling wind;
Mums of all colors will fill a hundred pots,
Harvests will fill colored bins.

The children will play more decisively,
Gone are lazy searing days,
Red plaid satchels and tennis shoes,
Chalk hop scotch markers to play.

Little rain seed clouds will float adrift,
August greens still bright abound,
And sparkle from dewy gentle drops,
And oh, so clean smells the town.

Squirrels darting and restless,
Stealing from birds for no nuts,
Have yet fallen from fruit laden trees,
Though their noses the scents picking up.

Yes, I will call the monthís name ďSeptember,Ē
For Iíve heard it exists somewhere,
And dream of cotton candy,
And a happy and rambling state fair.

By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)



September Has Arrived

September morn, the sky is clear
about that old song, not shed a tear
Indian Summer, fall in the air
can do nothing about it, so why care

Critters building their winter lairs
most all do very much care
new roof, lots of wood and coal
look at the growth of that young foal

Cooler the night, so warm the days
horse flies raising heck, come what may
Pumpkins growing large and orange by now
look at them, smile and scowl

Large fluffy and fat the clouds
summer storms are fading as heavy the bows
have not seen a wooly worm
wondering if and when the first storm

Soon the trees will be so lovely to see
think about taking all out for brandy tea
Mums bloom, soon the game
all seems familiar, all is the same

By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)


Behind the Glass

Country Boy

What is My Worth

Waiting for September


My Treasure Chest

Things That Fly

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