Posts Tagged ‘Autumn poetry’

A Few Autumn Tanka, poems…..

July 20, 2017

“North Carolina Stream”, watercolor, janekohut-bartels, 2008


It is so hot here in Atlanta today, 95 degrees in the shade.  Tomorrow is predicted to be even hotter.  I thought a few poems and tanka (possibily…) about a cooler season would cool me off and readers, too.  Even the cicadas are too overcome to sound their fiddles in this heat.

Lady Nyo


I wander the fields

Snow covers the barren soil

Sharp wind plays pan pipes

A murder of crows huddle

Black laughing fruit hang from limbs 

I look up at blue

Sky this morning, watch leaves fall-

Whirling, colored tears.

Clip my face like dull razors,

The stroking of memory.

Is the whistling

Of the wind- a train, a plane?

Nature plays fiddle

And our senses are confused,

We dwell in chicanery!

Shooting star crosses

Upended bowl of blue night


Fires up with excited gaze!

A moment– and all is gone.

This grim November,

The month of my father’s death

Always bittersweet.

My memories float, weak ghosts-

Hauntings in the fog of life.


A late Summer moon

Floats above the conifers.

Autumn is coming.

Do pines know the season turns?

Their leaves don’t fall; do they care?


I walked a landscape

 An unfamiliar dreamscape

 The only sound heard

 Was the tinkling of bells

 Then silence covered the snow


 Season of silence

 Muted nature frost bitten

 Black limbs empty, still

 A vast field of whiteness

 No music comes from the wind.



Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2017






After Harvest Song

October 11, 2016

Marsh Geese, watercolor, Jane Kohut-Bartels, 2007


This waning autumn season,

That burst upon the mindscape

Hijacked a summer landscape,

Dared mingle dazzling elements

Of color, odors, tangled undergrowth,

Where things are lost in each other

And plausible limits vanish.


And with the passage of these days

The Earth transformed in scarcity,

A stretching silence,

A gathering solitude

Where Pan’s pipes are brittle straw

Made golden, hollow by harvest.


Come celebrate this solitude

Rejoice with me in silence

Where time warps

And darkness gathers,

Where mystery is beckoned

By hoar frost and shadows.

All color now corralled

Like old dun horses

Barely moving against the grey of day.


Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2016


“In the Hollow of Winter’s Twilight”

October 14, 2010


Untitled?, jkohut-bartels, 2006?, watercolor


A new and unsettled poem.  The imagery can be extended.

Lady Nyo

In the hollow of winter’s twilight

When the air is thin and pale,

Night creeps forth in shadows–

Overwhelms  the weary day.

I hear the scrape of sleet

Tattoo the frozen panes,

Feed up the fire

With spitting  pine–

And settle in the warmth.

The hound on hearth,

His body limp–snores,

No owl or deer entices.

He dreams of past  hunts,

Twitches still–

But now gives up the chase.

In winter’s stillness

Wounds will heal,

This solitude is welcome

The silence does immeasurable good–

This — the sanctuary of season.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2010

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