Jack

Scrape it carefully,
this orb of autumn's dreaming,
carved face, mirrored mask.

apothecary

The scent of rain and stormy air,
a Pumpkin King's candle-lit stare.
Candy corn, preserved, bottled
with hot toddy and some cut grass,
one blazing leaf stuffed in the glass.
Then age the label mottled.

resentment

It's time for candy
apples and crisp scarlet leaves,
pumpkin carving and
ghost stories by the fire,
not this surly sweltering.

Foreboding

The moon is full, white and wild,
its bony smile malice-taut,
all a-brim with ill-laid plans.
In its hands, a bubbling pot

foretells quick death. Cats and kings
alike hear it sing its song,
its ode to chill havoc wrought
with grievous thought, bleak and wrong.


This rather overblown and Octoberesque awdl gywydd was written for this week's Format Challenge.  Check my post at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads for the rules and link up!

parfumerie

Stifle the nutmeg and bring out rich leather, weave in notes of dying hay and cold stars.

It is still too warm here to hope to catch autumn's scent, the bitter chill and crackling sounds.  It is the end of summer of all our end of days, here, so far away from dim nights lit by poison-green firefly flashes and a single kiss in the darkest corner of the porch.

Every overheated day I weave another daisy chain of dull words, despite the heaviness, the dreary humidity.  I want book-weather, knitting-weather, bright-orange and musk-weather.  Pumpkin pie and ginger cookies, ground whole green tea leaves untouched by snowy sugars. I want the mossy drip and drizzle of what passes for winter, here on the wrong side of the world.  I want the rubber scent of rain boots, the taste of forgetting, the joy of scattering crystal drops from copper curls.

I want New Orleans in October, but I will settle for graveyard dust and marigold petals, cigarette smoke and thick rum that is as old as I am, black lace stockings and a fistful of candy corn.

but that was a long time ago

the singing crickets
and bitter scent of autumn
conspire to break me.

ready

dim shades, clacking quick
against the hot day, speak in
bones, rattle and click.

pumpkin

The breath of God wafts
through autumn, from my oven,
rising happiness.
Come and join me! We'll have tea
and sympathy, and muffins.

antici--

Am I a peach?  I disagree,
though peaches are lovely,
especially in the heat of summer.
I think you are much sweeter.
Nor am I a plum, ice cold
and unexpected, not even
an apple plucked fresh
(straight from the serpent's mouth),
no, none of these.

I think I might be a pumpkin,
carved hollow
by your demanding hands,
left open to the velvet night,
alight with expectation.

equinox

What will an autumn girl do in a summer stretched thin,
While red and orange give way to shades of green?
I hope she stays, and paints the autumn colors in.

Some girls are satisfied to let yellow summer win;
Winter girls have run and can scarcely be seen!
What will an autumn girl do, when summer draws in?

Let the sun beat down, with its fearsome hot grin,
While passersby grow desperate, parched and mean!
Watch how she stays, and calls the cool breeze in.

Spring, summer, and winter may be called her kin,
Though how quickly they fade when autumn is queen!
What can an autumn girl do 'til summer grows dim?

Other seasons are far too intemperate for sin,
A well-loved pastime of mine you may try to redeem.
Watch the autumn girl smile, smell her cinnamon skin!

I cannot love those others, too heated, wet, or grim.
And, imagine this world without bright Hallowe'en!
What can an autumn girl do, if summer never gives in,
but watch, dreaming until the equinox rolls again?



For One-Shot Wednesdays, I've decided to work mostly on forms of poetry that are very strict, or that I have trouble writing...since this is a writing exercise blog, after all! The villanelle is a perfect example of challenging poetic form, with strict rhyme and meter, a twisted line scheme, and an insistence upon theme. I sweated hard on this one, and the ending is still a little weak. So I'll be thinking about edits, too!

You may have thought my Twitter handle was a joke, but I am dead serious about autumn. Just ask the Halloween Posse!

So--anyone else up for a Wednesday challenge? Next week...sonnets, I think.