As the saying goes, “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” Another states, “It’s not how far you fall, it’s how high you bounce back.” Today, celebrating the “one week anniversary” of the First Day of Fall (Autumn) 2018, we are considering the word “FALL.”  Be it the season, or the process of hitting the pavement, we are looking for a FALL poem under the following consideration:

During the two week period between Sunday October 14 to and including Saturday October 27, we will be conducting a Mini-Poem-A-Day Chapbook Exercise in preparation for the November Poem-a-Day Chapbook Challenge being conducted by Robert Lee Brewer over at the Poetic Asides poetry blog. Each poem will be included in your final effort.

Your Mini-chapbook theme will be “AUTUMN” with a daily prompt being something in that regard. Today’s poem title will be the title of your chapbook and will be the first poem in your mini-tome. All successive poems in the challenge will have a relation to or be driven by this first piece in some way beyond just being a Fall poem. Also you will be required to use a line from the previous poem to thread the string. So think about your title and write that poem today, and we’ll play poet in a major way starting on the 14th.


Fall of My Heart (Sonnet for Autumn)

Way back, when I was just a little girl
My heart fell hard and fast for autumn’s charms.
As summer ends, the joys of fall unfurl,
With football, marching bands, and pumpkin farms.

Drum cadence seems to beat within my chest
As scarlet, gold, and ginger grace our trees.
The scents of burning leaves, and apples pressed,
Or baked ‘tween flaky crusts, give me weak knees.

When sun shines full in autumn’s deep blue sky,
Or harvest moon looms larger than my home,
It simply leaves me breathless. My-oh-my,
I cannot paint my fondness in a poem.

I have this wish –  believe me, it’s sincere –
I wish fall lingered ten more months per year.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018



AS THE DAYS DWINDLE,  by Walter J Wojtanik

I hear Roger Williams play
as the days dwindle –
and we’re searching for kindling
and strong Oolong tea brews.
The leaves become the hue of a barn fire,
they take a flyer and are tossed;
lost upon them is their imminent demise.
Gracefully, they drift past the window
as Roger Williams plays.
Tree branches sway in the breeze
pleased to be rid of the molting
vegetation in sad celebration.
The falling leaves of red
and gold embossed with
nature’s time stamp, to be trampled upon
and piled up, hours wiled away –
kids at play. And Roger Williams too.
Summer kisses soon forgotten,
hands once sun-burned and gnarled
beat a retreat and go away, winter’s song
plays. But, I miss you most of all my darling,
when Roger Williams plays.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2018