Author: Windsor Writers Group

There’s a lot to moan about at the moment with incessant rain, gusting wind and long dark nights. But, there is also beauty, fun and the potential for profound thought, as these autumnal poems show us. Have a read – poetry is good for the soul!

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Prickly Autumn Yearnings

by Vivien Eden

“Come let’s pick some chestnuts Andy!

Days as bright as this are scanty.

Tasting them is just the best thing,

Their sweet flavour’s to my liking.”

“Great idea, I’ll get my shoes on,

I’d like seeing some of Autumn,

And I prize to try new flavours

Conkers could be one I savour.”

“Don’t you ever eat a conker,

Not unless you are a plonker.

They’re called horse chestnuts don’t you know

Not people-chestnuts, you dodo.

Sweet chestnuts are the things we eat

Beneath their bristly spines a treat

So, make sure to bring gloves along

Your hands are rough but not so strong

That they’ll endure the spiky burrs

As we forage. Do you concur?

With bleeding hands, we shall return

And gorge ourselves, without concern.”

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Oh to Autumn

by Mike Moss

The leaf falls.

‘Grandpa,’ he said. I turn around.

‘Why did that leaf fall to the ground?’

‘Aha,’ I say, ‘I know this one.

I think it wants some Autumn fun.’

‘Some fun? What do you mean?’

I smile and wink, ‘It’s very keen

to join that pile of leaves just here.’

‘I see,’ says he, ‘So with a smile,

I can shuffle through this leafy pile,

And kick them down the winding path

And then go home for my hot bath.’

‘Quite so,’ I say, ‘and look ‘e here,

I spy a conker, it’s that time of year.

Pick it up quick, we’ll attach a string

And have a go, at that bashing thing.’

As we shuffle back, kicking leaves asunder

We dodge sheet lightning, hear the thunder

Deluged in rain, we take damp shelter

Watch raindrops bounce, helter skelter

Russet brown, orange, yellow and gold

This is the season, so we’re told

Put clocks back, gain an hour,

Shiver and huddle around the fire

It’s of fireworks, witches and spooky things

And runs up to Christmas, wise men and kings.

For ‘tis Autumn

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Red Earth

by Phil Appleton

Fallen leaves, the fallen dead,

The earth has turned the colour red.

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Five Quinces

by Amanda Buchan

Five quinces in a scarlet bowl, Chrome Yellow.

We’ve had white bowls of crocus, blue of peaches

We’ve had pulsating, copulating Spring,

Seducing tight pink buds to Summer’s decorous spread.

There’s no decorum here in scarlet Autumn.

 October’s trees are shameless, shaking out seed

Revealing leaf by leaf their naked limbs.

I revel in this seasonal surrender,

I welcome Autumn’s servant, here he comes;

Brown hands will proudly place the last gold quince

Upon the altar of the kitchen bench.

Winter arrives of course, black trees, white frost.

We’ll snuggle up in quilts with favourite books

We’ll fill a wooden bowl with hazel nuts

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Autumn poem

by Robyn Kayes

Trees turn to glorious colours

Enchanting the eye as the sun loses

Its strength and the winds

Gather pace, bringing stormy rains.

Rush indoors to escape the damp,

Looking for warmth but only

Finding coldness till the heating

Turns on, and then relax with

Hot chocolate and a novel

Awaiting the return of family

From outings when their chatter

Will dispell the gloom

And brighten the day

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The Beech Wood
by Valerie Benham

We weave our way up the hill
through the tunnel of trees
an orchestra of colour
deserves rapturous applause
with singing sunlight filtering through

We reach The Plain
the mouth of the wood
with its rustic hints of
life a while ago

We enter the wood
its beauty enthralls
The lemon yellows and peridot hues
replaced with a bronze and gold glow

Copper crisps lay under our feet
crunching and scrunching all the while
releasing an earthy scent
a heady mix of soil and moss
with the sweetness new grass

Screeds and screeds of fledgling trees
stand proud as far as the eyes can see

Gorgeous evergreens cannot
compete with the candy canvas of raspberry treats,
cherry glaze, burnt orange with
butterscotch, dandelion and pineapple too
copper and bronze leaf blow in the breeze
all held up by liquorice sticks with ease

Luscious light ferns cover the ground caressing
our limbs all the way down

An aura of spirits of from Saxon times
exists floating through the cool air

Deep into the wood and through we go
ancient roots sculpted deep into the ground
creating caves where children go

The shallow furrows in evidence
Knarled and knotted old bark carves a route over the ground
and menaces with creatures curled
under which the orchids, and special flowers grow

The low sun fights its way through the leaves
blinding us as we go

Distant sounds of children at play
squeals of laughter and joy

Dogs bark as birds of prey fly low

Couples hand in hand stroll through
taking a seat to ponder the view

We reach the ridge
To enjoy the view
of this special hill falling away with
with white mist skirting the fields below
a chill in the air surrounds

As the light transitions from sun to perfect peach moon
pure blue replaced with soft amber tones

We retreat back home
to enjoy a whisky or rum
or a marshmallow roasted on the spit

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If you enjoyed our poetry here. you’ll certainly enjoy the beautiful Christmas poems and Short stories in our Christmas book – Windsor Christmas Tales!

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