Autumn

Image from Pixabay
Background effects by: https://freesound.org/people/paulbogush/sounds/345723/ (The only modification made was adding a voice over the effects. In no way does the licensor endorse the author or usage.)

October’s bellowing anger breaks and cleaves
the bronzed battalions of the stricken wood
in whose lament I hear a voice that grieves
for battle’s fruitless harvest, and the feud
of outraged men. Their lives are like the leaves
scattered in flocks of ruin, tossed and blown
along the westering furnace flaring red.
O martyred youth and manhood overthrown,
the burden of your wrongs is on my head.

Written by: Siegfried Sassoon from his book, Counter Attack and other poems ©1918

This is a public domain book. All credit goes to Mr. Siegfried Sassoon

Autumn is Here

Image from Pixabay

Dressed in long-sleeve realities with bits of pumpkin spice casualties,
dare I say, “Autumn is here.”

With colors of yellow, orange, brown, and red above and below my head,
dare I say, “Autumn is here.

Mornings seem longer as I struggle to move from one place to another,
dare I say, “Autumn is here.

My pen twirls as thoughts begin to swirl,
dare I say, “Autumn is here.

Minds like cornucopias, we tend to the harvest of our own ideas.
During this time of year, to those who are far and near,

I say to you, “Autumn is here”.

A September Farewell

Image from Pixabay
“Footsteps, Dry Leaves, G.wav” by InspectorJ (www.jshaw.co.uk) of Freesound.org

I will remember September.
Days when Summer begins its slumber
and trees begin to freckle.
Crisper evenings will be greeted by ember mornings—
shining in awakened glory.
I will remember September
while walking through Summer’s burnt cinders.

When I Write

Image from GIPHY
Audio background is by: https://freesound.org/people/FoolBoyMedia/sounds/333800/
The only modification was adding a voice over their recording. The individual responsible for the audio background is neither affiliated nor endorses those who use their work.

When I write, I’m free—

free to be and do anything.

I can lie or tell the truth

adding a dash of charisma too.

Line by line,

I debate the scheme to rhyme.

Still,

I’m free.




I abuse the structure of free verse

and consider it a curse.

Using adverbs clumsily,

elegantly, and undeservingly.

Still,

I’m free.




I admire my contemporaries

those crystallized rarities.

Keen eyes and grammatical structure,

sharpen my habits of conjecture.

Still,

I’m free.




All I want is to be free—

free to write and experience what I can’t be.