PH ( / )

Autumn Rain

Autumn rain falls down upon my head,
I suppose I should be using an umbrella,
But I love the rain in autumn,
That dying season where everything goes underground,
For this is the season where winter waits to descend,
And leaves turn brown and gold as they die,
But this is not a negative thing,
For they will flourish again once winter thaws,
And the rain falls upon those trees,
That are alive, yet so calm and still,
Knowing that autumn isn't the end of their life.

People celebrate Halloween,
The night for tricks and treats,
Children's imagination knowing no limits,
For autumn is the season of change,
And ghosts and ghouls haunt the streets,
Devils appearing in their ghostly forms,
As they prey upon the unsuspecting,
The night full of endless possibilities,
The night falling early,
As children knock door-to-door,
Begging for sweets and sometimes playing funny tricks,
But do beware: the ghosts of Halloween are here.

Then there comes Guy Fawkes night,
Fireworks painting the sky colourful pinks and reds,
Greens, yellows, purples and blues,
For tonight Guy Fawkes shall burn,
His world turning red,
As people stare at his legacy,
For he shall burn forever,
His crimes written in the flames,
And everybody knows his name,
As they remember his crimes,
And people eat toffee apples,
Sausages and burgers,
As they enjoy their night,
For this is also a celebration,
A celebration of autumn rain,
But there is no rain tonight,
For tonight we wander the streets,
Our ghostly forms preying on the unsuspecting:
Those who know not what we are,
For we are witches riding those broomsticks,
As we read the fortunes of a dying season.

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Comments (14)

I understand your sarcasm in God in relation to the time of your life and the vaticans protocol in
brilliant! fantastic structure of the words, letters, and many more combinations of certain items. keep on making hilarious poems
On Lydia's comment. A poem is in the ear of the beholder, unless he/she is deaf, then who knows what the hell it is. Perhaps it is in another sense, in which case do you think this 'poem' stinks? Paris, what are you doing in Australia? I thought it was a prison colony and that they had released you from prison? By the way, I'm going to Paris soon, Paris. Do you want to share a room at the Paris Hilton in France. My mom, Helen, is flying in from Lesbos and has expressed an interest in you. She swings both ways. I'm a good English tutor and am as conversant with body parts as I am the parts of speech. I'm also into reflexology and heaven knows I won't have any trouble finding your great big feet. I have references from the LA County Jail, the Harris County Jail, the Bastille, Ryker's Island, the Old Bailey; I've been a trouble maker since the 17th Century, the Dartmoor Hilton on the Hill, and my Herpes is in remission
This is brilliant work, the cymbalism, the hidden meanderings, the inept typing drill disguise. Oh, my God, this is gonna' win a Nobel prize. Paris, you've been hiding your light under a bushel, and here I thought you let it all hang out. I'm gonna' ask the cops, but I'll bet you can almost recite the alphabet backwards. We know you can't do it forwards.
does jon edward smoke stuff, how cudd he possibly like this trash WTFFF
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