[néktar]

username; néktar | name; micah | gender; male
f:>

[Dewy Feathers]

username; Dewy Feathers
name; Valerie
gender; Female
gif;


credit

poem;

by me
The leaves are orange and red
The smell of fresh baked bread
Fills the air

Valerie loves the fall
The pumpkins, the harvest, just fall
The way the leaves dance and twist in the air

She pulled her scarf tighter
It really was getting colder
She should’ve brought a coat

The lights shone across the field
It was quiet, still
Valerie shifted the pie

She heard laughter ring,
A beautiful sound
She cracked a smile

There was dancing and music,
Laughter and smiles,
The festival had begun

Every year, once autumn starts
The festival begins, celebrating the harvest
It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

edit:some typos oops.

[Foxghost]

username; Rosemoon
name; Nicolai Ivanovic
gender; Cis Male
gif;

Source
poem;

Autumn is a gift
Anyone who thinks a fallen leaf is dead
Has never seen one dancing on a windy day
Like tiny ballerinas on the breeze
Floating gracefully down into a pile
She has a distinct smell, Autumn
Like moist earth and spiced pumpkins
Ripe apples and cinnamon
She has a unique flavor
Like mulled cider and candied popcorn
Caramel chews and maple syrup
But nothing compares to her appearance
Winter may have a dress of snow
Summer may have sunny rays
But Autumn
Autumn is like no other
She wears a crown of red and gold
And dress of nettle and pine
She’s as graceful and regal as a queen
And she just might be
The queen of seasons I like to call her
For she comforts me in the darkest of times
Her bitter weather gives excuse for sweaters
Warm and soft with big long sleeves
And an excuse for sunset walks
As the sun glows down on the trees
Lighting up each little flame
The most beautiful fire
And I cannot imagine a year without her
I am in love with her
But even though she must go I’ll remember
Autumn is the earth’s last and loveliest smile

Source : Myself

[zero.two]

username; zero.two
name; Gray
gender; nonbinary
gif;

poem;
Shorter and shorter now the twilight clips
The days, as though the sunset gates they crowd,
And Summer from her golden collar slips
And strays through stubble-fields, and moans aloud,

Save when by fits the warmer air deceives,
And, stealing hopeful to some sheltered bower,
She lies on pillows of the yellow leaves,
And tries the old tunes over for an hour.

The wind, whose tender whisper in the May
Set all the young blooms listening through th’ grove,
Sits rustling in the faded boughs to-day
And makes his cold and unsuccessful love.

The rose has taken off her tire of red—
The mullein-stalk its yellow stars have lost,
And the proud meadow-pink hangs down her head
Against earth’s chilly bosom, witched with frost.

The robin, that was busy all the June,
Before the sun had kissed the topmost bough,
Catching our hearts up in his golden tune,
Has given place to the brown cricket now.

The very cock crows lonesomely at morn—
Each flag and fern the shrinking stream divides—
Uneasy cattle low, and lambs forlorn
Creep to their strawy sheds with nettled sides.

Shut up the door: who loves me must not look
Upon the withered world, but haste to bring
His lighted candle, and his story-book,
And live with me the poetry of Spring.
"Autumn" - Alice Cary

[SunnyStreets]

username; sunnystreets
name; Maple
gender; male
gif;

(from gfycat)
poem;


My November Guest by Robert Frost

My sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She’s glad the birds are gone away,
She’s glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

[LokisTrick]

username:
LokisTrick
name:
Vincent
gender:
Male
gif:

Poem:
The simple splendor of golden paths
wreathed in autumn's aftermath
Stills the breath inside my chest
and puts something in my soul to rest.
A respite from the burning hum
of summer's heady beating drum.
still to different, from springs bated tune
anticipating life bursting forth from gloom.
Autumn murmurs a soft refrain
letting go of that which still remains
accepting end must come to all
as leaves and seeds tumble and fall.
But as they go they make their mark
ringing in the journey they must embark
for only now at the seasons end
might we grasp its beauty and transcend
-by me

[honee bee]

username; honee bee + 348767
name; wynne
gender; gender fluid
The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sun-burned hands I used to hold

Since you went away, the days grow long
And soon, I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all, my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall

while originally a song by nat king cole,
I learned this in my french class in the form of a poem
Whenever I think of fall, I think of this poem.

[nermal1999]

username; nermal1999
name; Adam
gender; Male
gif; (Found on Gfycat)

poem;

Setting fire to the leaves,
Autumn creeps in,
unleashing her transformation;
a new season begins.

From the crunch underfoot
to the nip in the air,
Autumn goes boldly
with her bright auburn hair.

She dances with the trees
and shakes them to their core.
Autumn leaves them bare,
before opening the door

to Winter, who breezes in
coldly cooling Autumn’s embers.
But until then, her majesty is in residence
through October, from September.

(A Poem about Autumn, By Ms Moem)

[dracopia]

username; HULLABALL00 ACR0BAT
name; jesen herfst
(autumn in croatian and dutch)
gender; demiboy - he/they
gif;

poem;
autumn is
an artist who uses
an oak leaf on which
to paint a masterpiece
- william allen ward

[Meowrails]

username; Nepeta
name; Vivianne
gender; Female
gif;

poem;

Like crunchy cornflakes
Gold leaves rustle underfoot
Beauty in decay.

By Paul Holmes