Autumn Afternoon

view from my front porch
affords me vistas
from
the Autumn seasons
cornucopia
of vibrant foliage
as my heart dances
with the journey
of the falling
wind blown leaves

later in my room
scribing letters
to my artist friend
on a far away shore
looking out my window
I see the wind has risen
by the fluctuating movement
of leaves against
the background of
moving clouds in the sky
and my amazement of nature
is monumentally increased

Radiant faces? Façades for emotional anxiety
Sparkling eyes? Masquardes for the gloomy
These masks!
Flashy smiles concealing their pitiful quivers
Hearty laughter obscuring shrieks for mercy
It’s all a mask
A model walking the runway? Skin accompanying bones
He coughes but the sound the reaches me is of rattling ribs
It’s all a mask
A person jogging? Just one trying shake off stench from a dungeon
A couple moving hand in hand? An iron grip making claim
It’s a mask

Untamed temerity

Broke the morning air with an uneven stride,
stole three kisses from a bachelor’s loving bride.
Surely I was happy I had nothing of worth to hide,
been working so hard to turn down my secular pride.

Wave after wave kept rolling on their wetted sand,
kept my powder dry, my canon close to my left hand.
the nihilistic brotherhood of toff’s couldn’t understand,
you pluck no other’s strings if you’re a one man bland.

Through thick of sniper fire and raining hell,
along the dire trail of Shrapnel Gully,
to haven, bore three hundred men who fell,
did John Simpson Kirkpatrick, and his Duffy.

I was, from crib, encouraged to admire,
how Private Simpson at Gallipoli,
took wounded to the beach from front-line fire
so gently, carried by his donkey, Duffy.

It’s one of many legends of Gallipoli,
elaborated on throughout the century;
exaggerated, it’s a certainty,
but true’s the tale of Duffy, Simpson’s donkey.

I cannot believe, this very dove
With which I once shared immense love
Is perched on my windowsill
Singing to me in a voice soft as silk
….
Years back, it made me smile and glow
Yet I knew deep down I’d one day let it go…
With my heart as tight and hard as my fist
I stood by and watched it fade away like mist

So what is this music I hear this day?
Riding on the back of past times from, far, far away…
Filling my heart with such sweet melodies
Stuffing contagious laughter in my cheeks?

Mr. Rainbow attracted me
He Killed me with his charming shots
So I read more about him
And here's what I got..

Mr. Rainbow
----------------

Through crystal clear elegancy
passes the magic of the light,
to split the droplets' transparency,
and turn it to a colorful delight.

Look at the horizon and see
it's adorned with a bow;
violet, blue, red and green
indigo, orange and yellow.

Vice prick levelling the salt
the fingers bleed moist like a delicate
Brachhetto d Aqui

there are cool timid voices
the sister wells
thrown down a rope they sing

quick goes the bucket before they
can haul you in
a busband was what they wanted

so many voices singing in the rain
and terrace tops

In dark wee hours of the morn
a blustery wind howls at the window
attempting to shake loose the panes
and warm itself inside.

Abed, I snuggle deeper
beneath the quilted warmth
like a squirrel in its leafy nest
on verge of drifting off to a troubled slumber
awaiting a possible late frost.
The farmers' bane.

JUDYANNE'S PROSE:-

Spring is fragile, easily banished by the south wind. Despite the presage of warmer and sunnier days to come with the welcome northerly breeze of yesterday, a cold, wintry wind blew. Today, when the sun rose from the desert in the east and slowly brightened it, the morning sky would be covered from horizon to horizon with a blanket of multi-coloured fluffy cloud that looks just like wool on a sheep.

Sometimes you fall through a deepening crack,
Mt. Etna burns in your throat, and you spit out broken shards
of clay, coiled like a snake around your own ashes.
Maybe a hole in the sky
opens to strike you down on the way to Damascus
or maybe you walk through a wall on the way
to somewhere else cloaked in invisibility and feathers
of the Great Horned Owl. You've never been here before
and you're a little queasy at first, a little tipsy from
too much sugar in your bloodstream. But then it's