The Leaves & Arrivals Autumn Word Jam

[judih]

salt water bypass
leave the pressure behind
t'ai chi sensitivity
moving meditative cure

[stilltrucking]

I think Clay said he was Palin round with the weatherman too
I hope it don't come back to haunt him when McCain decides to replace Sarah with Clay and run on the absurdists party platform

yes my mother's gene pool
always that
to rise above
or be singled out
as special
to blame

some of us are poets
some of us are not
some of us got to live in "the holy land"
some of us are homeless.

there is a cure
for a disease called man

I am falling into the new year
forever spring
the live oak tree
before my garden

Pecan trees just begining to show yellow tinge
ground littered with pecan shells
and sassy fat squirels
the end of summer
and the living is easy

all I know about life
in three words
"it goes on" robert frost.

there is a season
and an uncloudy day
of baby blue skies
and a full moon

[hester_prynne]

Autumn jam,
plums, apples,
safe in jars,
ready for the
morning toasts.

Warmer pajamas come on,
and evenings break earlier
after stunning light
that Parrish rose,
to the beauty of.

Autumm leaves me
her still lives of mortality,
her dead at my feet,
and I the pyre of self,
become her chanted silent prayer.

Autumn is our trust
in dust to dust,
as she lies drama dying,
like so many times before,
she will return.

[Arcadia]

golden otium
last traces in the city
only two months ago

[Arcadia]

(crazy ions)
pressure dissipated
in serial storms
feet & head
feel in their place
again

[judih]

those damn ions
what will they think of next?
rotational blunders
sudden reversals
hot-house effect
ozone madness
ion, ion oxen free
don't rise too fast,
you'll get dizzy
don't fall too fast
you'll get wintered

crazy, crazy ions...

[sonofthesun]

its me and my friends
talkin bout vacuums
and if and if not they exist
but we all know there is no empty space
so why argue
it is apparent

[jimboloco]

<center>i look like l-rod with lolita!
if i had a brain i would scare jim crow!
the dark is full of fright!
the unknown is afoot!
BOOO! </center>

[Arcadia]

smiling scarecrow & girl
(you´re lovely!)
my head´s without air today
I´ll join the boo-sound
while having breakfast!

[judih]

got my hands full of foam rubber
a blister on my cutting hand
i'm looking for air
will bring back air
hold on,
i'm coming

[Doreen Peri]

jimbo the scarecrow, whaddya know?
he looks so handsome in straw!
i can almost hear the crows caw!

judih's making puppets!
everything is as it should be, yes

,,,,,

woke up this morning
to a google of giggles
two girls can make
a racket with the laughs!

what a lovely sound
happiness abounds
outside the autumn mist
kissed on grass blades,
and leaves spread thin
like a blanket,
the season's autograph

[Doreen Peri]

and that was one beautiful poem
i read by miss hester, one of the better
fall poems ever penned!

[jimboloco]

i'll second that emoticon
starts off cozy
harvested jams
an jammys
then a leap into
twilight

inward
reflective
an down right
philosophic
eternal
with a twist of hope
from an earthy lady
with a clue
absolute
like fine vodka!
not in jest
i followed th flow of th poem
an lordy
there it was!
and
she don like palin or hillarious
but at least she do know
th diff twixt sneaky an la·men·ta·ble :(

[jimboloco]

judith making puppets in oz
an my sister jus(t) had a party in holland
her (grown up) kids made a puppet show!
puppets rule!
foaming puppets with blood stains!

parrots sqwaking!
palm trees swaying!
have a cup of coffee!

meditative sojourn
into the day
drawing scribbles

nothing
everything
caw caw caw!!!

[stilltrucking]

Hester wrote:

that Parrish rose,

falling petals from an autumn rose
my life is
as I move from dumb to dumber
the blessings of longevity
as I stare into the rising sun
and get hit by an eastbound garbage truck

dust to dust
pot to ashes
burning leaves
I am stoned
on bitter herbs

dust to dust, sounds like something from the bible
or is it shakespeare
I am such a heathen christ killer

I am warped out of time
thinking about December's children
and saturday's child

my mystical amiga
of the voice that impales me.

rumble tumble ramble

liked the poem
I am in a tragic mode these days
Staring into a setting sun.
over the pacific
my salty face
feels such loving grace
and tender indifference to the dusty words