RSS Feed

Monthly Archives: September 2012

AUTUMN LEAVES ARE FALLING

What does Autumn mean to you ? 

Let us know at .. poetreecreations@yahoo.com

THE THIRD SEASON

I love the colour of the autumn leaves

Blown to the ground in the gentle breeze

The air now feels so cool and fresh

The third season I love the best,

I love walking and watching the sky change

Until it changes bright blue

Then when dusk comes around

I find myself walking through the leaves so brown,

I  continue walking  along the side of the burbling brook

I feel so glad to be alive

Taking in such wonderous sites,

suddenly the sky turns red

Was it something  I said?

By Abbe Cutforth

9th Competition

September

 

 

September is a month

When nature is slowing down

It is the onset of autumn

When the leaves are turning brown

 

Birds start their migration

In flocks of every kind

A majestic synchronization

A sight that will blow you mind

 

The hedgerows in all their glory

With spectacles of colour so bright

All the days getting shorter

As the days give into night

 

The squirrels scurrying around

Rummaging through the leaves

Collecting building material

For their nests up in the trees

 

The nights become colder

The frost will appear on the ground

Nature starts to go to sleep

Leaves fall silently without a sound

 

The harvest all been gathered in

The farmers ploughing their field

Sowing all their winter seed

For next years harvest yield

 

Autumn prepares for the winter

That will freeze all within

Keeping nature cosy and warm

Until the onset of spring

Malcolm Bradshaw

Lou Treleaven, children’s author

* UPDATED JUNE 2021 *

You can’t get published without an agent, and you can’t get an agent without being published – or so the adage goes. Thankfully, there are still a few children’s book publishers who are happy to wade through the ‘slush pile’, that teetering tower of manuscripts we imagine fill up a corner of the office, each one representing an agent-less writer who is hoping against hope that they might be plucked from obscurity. So in the spirit of writerly comradeship here is my current list of writer-friendly children’s fiction publishers in the UK who still accept unsolicited manuscripts.  Check their website guidelines and submit away, but please do correct me if I’ve made any errors or incorrect assumptions. NB   Where there is a link, I have endeavoured to take you, the linkee, to the submissions guidelines page of the publisher’s website; where that is not possible…

View original post 2,548 more words

The Rules of Writing

Who am I by Thomas Sims

What does September mean to you?

Let us know at:poetreecreations@yahoo.com

Somewhere along the highway
Lies a field of amber durum wheat
Where footsteps of ghosts long past
Tread among its tall and slender stalks

Visions unlock scattered memories
Of a holiday in the countryside
Where within the ardor of autumn
Lay noonday siestas and midday walks

No photographs, no diaries
Just faded memory at its best
Connects the past with the present
As I ponder to still remember

Ripples of grain ebb like the ocean
When dew adorns the tips of the spikes
While golden wheat is set against
Morning azures of September

Somewhere along the highway
I lean my head out the window
Storing pictures in my mind
As I am touched by misty rain

The tall, slender stalks of durum wheat
Sway within the mist
Evoking the true American icon
“Amber waves of grain”

©catnipoflife

The miracles of September bring about harvest time, shorter days, falling leaves,

changing landscapes and so much more. 

Donkey Rides

On donkey’s back in heat of sun

With childlike trust he journeys on

Our waves, our cheers, bring knowing smile;

The cut’s gates less than a mile.

We urged him on with waving palms.

He knew the end, and yet was calm.

He rode along, ‘ Neath father’s gaze,

His view was clear, no dusty haze.

He knew full well the tide would turn

His kingly stance, the crowd would spurn.

But he could see a prize to  win,

Man’s cancelled  debt. An end to sin.

Remember now, at Easter-tide,

To look again at donkey rides.

To see beyond the palms and fun,

To truth, not fantasy, to god’s own son.

Remember well that ride to death ,

God died for you, whom he gave breath.

So kneel and pray, and ask,

And he will show the way that’s truly free.

Dave R West

%d bloggers like this: