A Few of Our Favorite Fall Poems

Sometimes at Postconsumers, we like to just step back and say, “Let’s all breathe and reduce our stress level today.” The nature of addictive consumerism and the rat race for “more, more, more” is to leave you as stressed as possible, as often as possible. The ultimate solution to that is to separate yourself from the world of addictive consumerism, but as the huge resource of articles and web course on this site indicate, that is often easier said than done. In the meantime, while we’re all on our postconsumer journey, it’s important to find other ways to reduce stress. One of our favorite paths is to enjoy some beautiful words via poetry. So today we’re just dedicating the blog to sharing a few of our favorite fall poems. Let’s just sit back and enjoy them for a moment!

For the Chipmunk in My Yard

Robert Gibb

I think he knows I’m alive, having come down

The three steps of the back porch

And given me a good once over. All afternoon

He’s been moving back and forth,

Gathering odd bits of walnut shells and twigs,

While all about him the great fields tumble

To the blades of the thresher. He’s lucky

To be where he is, wild with all that happens.

He’s lucky he’s not one of the shadows

Living in the blond heart of the wheat.

This autumn when trees bolt, dark with the fires

Of starlight, he’ll curl among their roots,

Wanting nothing but the slow burn of matter

On which he fastens like a small, brown flame.

 

November for Beginners

Rita Dove

Snow would be the easy

way out—that softening

sky like a sigh of relief

at finally being allowed

to yield. No dice.

We stack twigs for burning

in glistening patches

but the rain won’t give.

 

So we wait, breeding

mood, making music

of decline. We sit down

in the smell of the past

and rise in a light

that is already leaving.

We ache in secret,

memorizing

 

a gloomy line

or two of German.

When spring comes

we promise to act

the fool. Pour,

rain! Sail, wind,

with your cargo of zithers!

 

November Night

Adelaide Crapsey

Listen. .

With faint dry sound,

Like steps of passing ghosts,

The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees

And fall.

 

Sonnet  73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold

William Shakespeare

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see’st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west,

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

Consum’d with that which it was nourish’d by.

This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

 

September Tomatoes

Karina Borowicz

The whiskey stink of rot has settled

in the garden, and a burst of fruit flies rises

when I touch the dying tomato plants.

 

Still, the claws of tiny yellow blossoms

flail in the air as I pull the vines up by the roots

and toss them in the compost.

 

It feels cruel. Something in me isn’t ready

to let go of summer so easily. To destroy

what I’ve carefully cultivated all these months.

Those pale flowers might still have time to fruit.

 

My great-grandmother sang with the girls of her village

as they pulled the flax. Songs so old

and so tied to the season that the very sound

seemed to turn the weather.

 

Did we miss a fall poem that you love? If so, share it on the social media channels below.

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Photo Credit: Robert Hensley via Flickr

By | 2017-08-29T12:48:22+00:00 November 8th, 2016|Fun, Stress and Self Help|Comments Off on A Few of Our Favorite Fall Poems