Yesterday we wrote of comfort food. Nothing is better than a hot bowl of soup on a cold day. So today we will serve up a word soup. Using these autumn based words, write your poem. Choose an autumnal color and use those words colored in your choice to be included in your poem. Yes, multiple poems are welcome.


The two words in the bright yellow are: leaf and changing



When fall visits,
we crisscross the trail –
never tiring
of the crunch of crisp leaves
beneath us,
savoring childlike fun.

The brisk, fresh air
invigorates –
motivates us to
ride further,
sometimes pausing
to capture photos
of fall foliage, fields
dotted with orange pumpkin;
orchards with red apples.

Bushed and beaming,
we head home,
cautiously peering
around multi-colored leaf
piles raked to the curb –
some taller
than the cars avoiding them.

warm and cozy,
fire in the fireplace,
popcorn popping,
already reminiscing,

hoping tomorrow
is more of the same.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018




Soon the frost will come,
crusting both gourd and pumpkin.
It is autumn at play; a fall romp.
Barely alive, it strives to hold
one last hurrah, a huzzah
to it’s impending demise.

And it’s merely mid-afternoon.
It is no surprise that the hearth
will  glow with the fire of lost dreams.
A remaining ember warm and crackling,
prepares to fade and extinguish,
one final wish before it ends.
Soon to don our boots and hear
the crunchy call of the new fallen snow.

© Walter J Wojtanik, 2018


    • This is odd. My comment had a second part; “It’s safe to say that neither of them is in the soup,” but that part didn’t post. And yesterday several of my comments about various poems also didn’t post. What goeth here?

      • Yesterday’s comments went into moderation for some reason. Strange since you’ve posted from that address before. They’ve been approved and do show on yesterday’s poems. Why the rest was truncated I’m not sure. We won’t censor your comments without cause and will not edit unless asked by you to correct or change something.


    clouds and orange
    sunbeams illuminate
    the dried corn and eliminate
    cold cares.


    With boots pulled high, layered in sweaters and coats,
    we head through foliage colored orange.
    We briskly walk through crunchy, rake-spared leaves –
    the sound bright with autumn notes – crisp and clear.
    Our hike takes us to the edge of fields – pumpkin-filled.
    We linger under trees, fickle in their changing.
    Turning for home, school children giggle past,
    arms laden with notebooks, faces fresh with life.
    The glow of the late afternoon sun, warm against the trees,
    plays shadow games on the apples newly picked
    piled high in crates of old wood lost to the orchard
    but inspiring in their ability to find new purpose –
    Hope for our waning years.
    Once home, we settle cozy in the glow of pumpkins
    lit to brighten spirits and chase away ghoulies.
    A piece of pie, tea and thee – what fun it is to simply be!

  3. Walt, your winding-down autumn poem is a too-familiar mix of contentment and resignation. Loved it. I often find myself there.
    Marie, your bike ride is just my speed–fast enough for a gentle face wind, slow enough to absorb the surrounding season.

  4. Fall Roster Call

    Let’s not forget brown,
    for brown belongs.
    As much as the yellows and oranges that laugh,
    as much as the reds that shout,
    or crimsons that hum,
    or golds that sing,
    brown belongs.

    Let’s not forget brown,
    for brown belongs,
    It stands in tree trunks, bark and twig,
    rests in acorn caps, and the meat of nuts,
    and more, perhaps,
    in the forest floor,
    the dirt from which
    all colors came

    Let’s not forget brown,
    for brown belongs,
    more as an au pair for the hues
    of children swirling all about,
    not in the autumn-play herself,
    she stands, then stays to take her rest,
    never changing,
    Just to sleep a while
    beneath the winter snow
    until new children come.

    © Damon Dean, 2018

  5. Pingback: COMFORT FOOD | pictured words

  6. Autumn Triolet

    I selected the orange group of words:

    Foliage sprays fresh dappled hues.
    When leaves fall, I jump in the piles,
    then rake briskly, paying my dues.
    Foliage sprays fresh dappled hues.
    Hoping to pick my pumpkins soon,
    fun turning them to cozy-faced smiles.
    Foliage sprays fresh dappled hues.
    When leaves fall, I jump in the piles.

  7. Autumn Comfort

    We must appreciate now
    what is in our hearts,
    responding to the warm glow
    of camaraderie.
    Today looks to be a good day for it,
    nothing too grand, nor magical,
    simply a few hours of quiet enjoyment,
    on our beach, hidden,
    cozily nestled behind
    piles of crunchy sand,
    feeling the change of seasons.
    Just some idle conversation with friends,
    perhaps turning into joyful fun,
    aliveness, hope for the future.
    We are cheered on by
    the crisp sunlight of early fall,
    hands shielding eyes against the glare,
    smelling the ocean in the thin clouds,
    down here, close to the border with Mexico. 

  8. Planting a Tree

    We neighborhood kids looking for something to do,
    on a brisk autumn day, we planted a tree.
    We went up in the woods and found a young maple
    and dug around roots, oh so, carefully.

    We got permission from our neighbor’s dad
    to put it in at the foot of their yard.
    We each took turns at manning the shovel,
    then patting the earth, which was cold but not hard.

    As the years went by, we watched that tree grow,
    so beautiful with red leaves in the fall.
    It wasn’t till later, we learned that the dad
    did not want a new tree in his yard at all.

    He didn’t think it would grow, so he had said yes.
    But it did something magical all the years through,
    growing tall and proud with branches outstretched.
    Sometimes kids will surprise you with what they can do.

  9. My eye troubles kept me from being able to sort out the colors of the words so I just used a few I saw. Yeah, I am a little to rhymey this week but sometimes that how it flows.


    Where is the red and gold of fall?
    Our leaves have hardly changed at all.
    Where is the brown, orange and yellow
    That makes this season chill and mellow?

    Instead my trees are leafy green
    the longest I have ever seen.
    I guess they will change soon enough
    and bring that awesome autumn stuff.

    Seasons come and seasons go.
    Some pass quckly, some are slow.
    But these leaves won’t cooperate.
    I find this bold defiance great!

  10. Turning Autumn

    We’ve all heard it said that
    Change will come regardless
    And the autumn of life proves
    The most cruel, don’t you know

    Things begin to sag and fall
    A brisk walk loses its fun
    The glow of youth fades
    And hope begins to wane

    What happened to the energy?
    Where’d the inspiration go?
    That sparkle in the eye’s gone
    Autumn’s getting the best of us

    We’ve all heard it said that we
    Should roll with the punches
    Go with the flow
    Make the best of a bad situation

    And that I have pledged to do
    I’ll celebrate the sags and falls
    Walk slower and enjoy the view and
    Smile regardless of the aches and pains

  11. Protection Against the Freeze to Come

    I page through the loose-leaf cookbook
    The one filled with all my favorite dishes
    I pause at the recipe for carrot cake
    With its spicy sweetness – cream cheese icing
    I lingered briefly at the one for
    Those perfect sugar cookies, the
    Ones with the icing that oozes over each
    Cookie then hardens to smooth crunchy lusciousness
    But this is not a day for cakes and cookies –
    The morning dusted with a coating of frost
    This is a day for soup, a soup to fortify me
    Against the freeze to come – not just any soup
    A creamy, pale orangey soup, the color a
    Cross between the bright yellow and vibrant orange
    Leaves I see from the kitchen window
    A soup with just enough cinnamon and nutmeg
    To fill the air with the aromas of fall as I stir
    That simmering pot of butternut squash soup

  12. Pingback: AUTUMN’S BIKE TRAILS | pictured words

  13. Three smiling pumpkins sit cozy on the stoop
    laughing as we rake leaves in piles and heaps
    mocking as we fight the cool brisk breeze
    that insists on scattering our freshly gathered leaves.

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