Monday, October 05, 2009

Monday Poetry Stretch - October Poems

My poetry Friday post included a link to the poem October by Jacob Polley. I fell in love with the language of the poem, as well as the image of autumn it conjured. Since I'm thinking fall, Halloween, and all the other great things that come with this month, I thought it would be fun to write a poem to/about October.

Leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results here later this week.


  1. I love October, so this stretch is a treat for me. I read Elaine's review of Button Up (by Alice Schertle) this morning, so I was thinking of both clothing and October. Here's my daily poem:

    October Wears…

    a pink satin nightgown
    each morning,
    goodbye colors
    bleeding brightly
    beside her black coffee.

    At noon, she slips on
    a Parrish blue hat and
    golden shawl and meets
    Summer for pasta salad,
    talking about long days past.

    By evening, she has changed
    into navy velvet,
    smoke perfume,
    and diamond choker,
    determined to show
    her beauty is not
    confined to sunlight.

    --Laura Purdie Salas

    Thanks, Tricia! Love these Stretches.

  2. It is cold enough to make me
    try to keep my feet dry,
    but not get too mad if my foot slips into the October river.

    No river is as beautiful as my
    October river.
    The sun is right, the leaves are right, the snakes are not hogging the place like they did all summer.

    I take my boat, balancing
    and muscling it down the rocky, trashy bank
    to the edge where it
    slips into the October river.

  3. October

    Honey dipped from a pot
    by the hand of autumn is
    swirled through a teacup.
    Black tea sweetened
    lightly, cooled ever
    so slightly. You sip
    the honeyed liquid
    slowly, swishing
    it around your mouth,
    squeezing it between
    your teeth. You swallow,
    and underneath the
    sweetness you can faintly
    taste the acerbity of what
    remains in the bottom
    of your cup.

  4. October
    holds the secret to spring
    seeds tucked in soil blankets
    buried beneath broken leaves
    cradled by earthworms
    rest in the
    waiting for warmth

  5. Leaf Peepers

    We have already seen
    the first hardy thrust
    of red maple leaves
    before the Leaf Peepers arrive.
    They come in buses with blue-tinted windows,
    and license plates from places
    all the way down to Florida.
    They come through only once,
    to view the big picture, the panorama,
    the full palette of Fall.
    I wish they could understand
    That autumn is a glorious unfolding,
    a slow strip tease
    of green to gold, to orange, to purple, to red.
    This week the aspen on the corner
    by the VFW building changes
    like a shy young bride.
    Tomorrow a maple does the full monty
    in the space between my house and my neighbor’s.
    We New Englanders are not leaf peepers,
    never claimed to be any such.
    Hell--we are total autumn voyeurs.

    c Jane Yolen 2009 all rights reserved

  6. This crosses nicely with Read Write Poem's monthly mini-challenge... I wrote Elbow Month

  7. Who Walks?

    Who walks the blue twilight,
    footsteps cool as a shiver?

    Who drifts like October wind,
    stirring sorrowful leaves?

    Who searches for lost days,
    once bright as pumpkins?

    Who fades by morning,
    Leaving only bone dust?

    Who has no name,
    who has no stone?

    --Kate Coombs (Book Aunt)

  8. Wonderful to see all these great poems. I especially love these bits:

    Sam: if my foot slips into the October river.

    Diane: by the hand of autumn


    the acerbity of what
    remains in the bottom
    of your cup

    Susan: seeds tucked in soil blankets

    Jane: autumn is a glorious unfolding,
    a slow strip tease


    a maple does the full monty
    in the space between my house and my neighbor’s.

    Kate: Who searches for lost days,
    once bright as pumpkins?

    Tiel: A hinge
    between two quarters of the year

    What a sumptuous group of poems!

    I did my daily poems yesterday and today on October, too, Tricia. Stop me, before I poem again.


    dances all day
    a clattering whirl
    of click-clacking
    gold skeleton leaves

    pours into night
    to the silent sky
    to the high-flying
    wild goose cry

    --Laura Purdie Salas, all rights reserved

    By October...

    My lunch balance is zero.
    My shoes are sloppy.
    My jeans have hot chocolate stains.
    My classes are boring, even French!
    (Est-ce que je peux faire une sieste pendant la classe?)
    My teachers all know me.

    I’m ready for summer.

    --Laura Purdie Salas, all rights reserved

  9. Simply Autumn

    Autumn ascends
    from flowering summer
    bringing opposing
    feelings to all.

    If you love
    hot sultry summer,
    you just might loathe
    leaves when they fall.

    They always signal
    cold shivery winter;
    nature's long fervent
    motherly call.

  10. An Ode to October.

    The names are out of place,
    From September to December;
    You should be eighth not tenth,
    My dearest friend October.

    How mean it is to have a name,
    That doesn't mean your whereabouts;
    But has you shuffled two months forward,
    Unaware that there are doubts.

    So here's my plan to right this wrong,
    And have your name sound sober;
    The year must always start in March,
    With apologies owed to October.

    [Copyright 11-10-09 Michael Coldham-Fussell]