once smooth as petals
will shrink into a crumpled
autumn leaf, waiting
for annual earth’s melting to
fertilise spring’s kids.
—
the invisible cycle: a tanka*
Tag: autumn
on decaying days and pumpkin soup
Monsoon rain
welcomes you,
on my side of
the world.
I hope your
crimson hair
isn’t damp.
You can leave
your slippers out.
I made some
pumpkin soup,
well, this lockdown
taught me how
to cook. Perhaps,
aloneness teaches
humans better
than any book.
I saw some photos
of orange lanes,
your touch is
turning leaves
as gold as wild
wheat’s grain.
Look outside,
nothing much
changed in my
tropical space,
yet, I do feel
the slow decay
of days.
No, don’t ask
me how am I.
It’s a question
dreaded even
by birds flying by.
Just tell me if
2020 will be kinder,
before next year’s
crossover.
Just wash our
fears, October,
let this year’s
extended Halloween
be over.
—
10.01.2020
©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
—
For dVerse OpenLinkNight #276
autumn bliss (a ya-du)
Shovel summer,
fall whispers death.
Warmer days’ done.
Here comes red leaves,
trees with naked sleeves.
Let autumn’s kiss
lull pain’s hiss, and
dismiss your hate.
Bliss is sweeter
for the forgiver.
—
03.26.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash
In response to Blogging from A to Z Challenge and NaPoWriMo 2018.
Y is for Ya-Du.
The Ya-Du or ritú (season) is stanzaic form dedicated to the seasons. The theme should express the emotions the seasons evoke. The form is a 15th century Burmese pattern using a climbing rhyme. The elements of the Ya-Du are:
-
L1-L4 tetrasyllabic (4) and L5 may be 5,7, 9, or 11 syllables. 4-4-4-4-(5,7,9, or 11)
-
stanzaic, written in no more than 3 cinquains.
-
The form employs a climbing rhyme in which the 4th syllable of L1 rhymes with the 3rd syllable of L2 and the 2nd syllable of L3. L4 and L5 end rhyme.
-
dedicated to the seasons and the emotions they evoke.
x x x a
x x a x
x a x x
x x x b
x x x x b
or
x x x x x x b etc
mummed magic
the scarlet leaf
of the almost bare autumn tree,
s l o w l y , ever s l o w l y ,
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
from its home twig
to its grave earth.
the crystal snowflake
of the heavy, winter cloud
g e n t l y , ever g e n t l y ,
d
e
s
c
e
n
d
i
n
g
from its throne in heaven
to its melting ground.
the brave sprout
of the fresh, spring seed
s o f t l y , ever s o f t l y ,
e
s
c
a
p
i
n
g
its cotyledons’ cave
towards the sky’s bright, open shade.
the soft, infant rays
of the smiling, summer sun
g e n t l y , ever g e n t l y,
b
u
r
s
t
i
n
g
into tiny sparkles of warmth
to kiss the waiting land.
these are earth’s mummed magic,
they need no noise to be majestic.
—
P.S. Is it evident that I fantasize about four seasons too much? 😀
09.06.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Matt Lewis on Unsplash
In response to Magic by Paul of 
paul scribbles.
So my poetic pals, your task if you choose to accept it, is to pen a poem using the word MAGIC in some form or write a piece that is quite simply MAGICAL. You know you can.
autumn spell
in this maze of bleeding leaves
as if the mighty Him spilled red inks
on top of the lush trees and twigs
to signal the yearly seasons’ shift,
find me lurking not
beneath the tall towers of red and yellow,
find me hiding not
inside the house with the whispering cello,
find me sitting not
on the edge of the long, winding road,
find me breathing not
inside the rushing car, suddenly slowed.
one more inhale,
one more exhale,
soul elevates maybe
to heaven or to hell.
well, the view from the top
of this scarlet autumn spell
makes this final moment
a little easier.
—
08.14.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Shubhodeep Roy
Dear Seasons
Like an elusive dream I silently hope to see how you undress—
from cold white to fresh green then to shy yellow and then to scarlet red,
from freckled to plump and lush to skinny and then to skeletal bare.
Like an enchanting perfume I secretly imagine your scent change—
from chilling trace of frost to charming whiff of blooming flowers
and then to sweet vibrant smell of the sun and finally to loamy, rustic earth aroma.
Like a locked desire I hope to bask my senses into your stunning metamorphosis,
my dear seasons.
—
Note: Living in a country with two seasons (wet and dry), autumn and winter have been my fascinations since I am a little girl. This is why they are mostly the inspirations of my poems and fictions. 😉
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Unsplash
In response to dVerse‘s Open Link Night # 182 by 
Bodhirose who wrote about Florida’s Fall.
Autumn’s Passage*
Autumn’s Passage*
*A collaboration with my Queen of Sonnets, who I consider a dear friend, Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res.
Melinda, an eloquent poetess and a gifted fantasy writer, is the author of epic fantasy adventure Stars and Angel Sing. Visit her blog and take a thrilling journey as she takes you to the enchanted world of Shayari.
Autumn’s Passage
Leaves painted in sunset hues reach for sky
Skeletal trees so bare and so naked
As leaves fall, pool like earth’s blood on wind’s sigh
Turns green grounds to a bed that’s gold-plated
Ready for winter to lie down and rest
As coming freezing chills sips its gaiety
Autumn still remains piled up and dressed
Displays her own unique scarlet beauty
She lulls the trees to sleep, to wait for spring
Whispers calming song, earth’s wind sings along
Dragging ever nearer winter’s cold sting
Holds on to it’s red crown that won’t last long
All leaves fall in the end to make compost
As white frosts replace rust, crimson combos.
—
Image credit: Unsplash
The Bloodiest Leaf
My friends love either spring or summer with the shining bright soleil. I am the odd fan of fall. The only kid who loves to see trees go skeletal. Little do they know the leaf-less twigs also scared me. But I still love fall because of my granny!
She lives in a brick red house with a bold blue door. When Ber-month starts, autumn’s scarlet leaves begin to crawl and cover her brick wall. It’s the signal: let the games begin!
Whoever points the bloodiest leaf, among me and my cousins, will get the biggest chunk of world’s chocolatiest cake!
—
Word count: 100
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Pixabay
In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) April 06, 2016.
Rules:
- a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less)
- each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end
- no serial (continuation) stories
- include a pingback to the challenge post
Thank you for the lovely fall-inspired prompt, Priceless Joy! 
Read more short stories here:
