Wednesday, October 28, 2015


By viewers' popular request

Seven Autumn Poems
by Leona Choy

With introductory poem:
I Paint With Words”


Some paint with brush and canvas
describing beauty seen by human eyes
Others paint with notes on a staff
which they set to music
Some paint with photo lens capturing color
or with nature's ingredients to produce
gourmet food for eager palates
some paint with healing hands and skills
bringing color back to pallid cheeks with health.
I paint with words.Some paint with hammer, nails, or mortar and cement
Some paint with flowers planted in fertile soil
or decoratively arranged in vase or bouquet
others paint with numbers and equations
describing, solving universal mysteries
or painting with technologies and systems
beyond my finite comprehension.
I paint with words.

Some paint on engineering blueprints
only white lines on blue backgrounds
which become impressive architectural edifices
a graphic artist paints from dreams and imagination
still life or incredible animation
a sculptor paints with hammer and chisel in stone.
I paint with words.
Each is an artist endowed by Creator God
with a portion of His creative spirit
in stewardship as a precious gift
not to bury unused
but to discover and invest
and multiply and so must I
when I paint with words.


AUTUMN puts on a Paradox Performance:
She hurries to change scenes and costumes
making me dizzy with her diversity
as she passes briefly between summer
and winter's blustery polar breath.

AUTUMN quickly comes and goes
a transient season of diminishing sunlight
and shortened fugitive days
still she turns once more to bless me
with the ineffable glow of a splendid sunset
leaves fall from soon bare branches
yet such glory in their surrender of life
a part of nature dying all around
amidst a time of bountiful harvest.

AUTUMN's paradox inevitably brings
sadness for diminishing mortal years
yet deep gratitude toward seasons past
rue for course of life I might have changed
now decreed and appointed
I must let go of what I cannot alter
to embrace the joy of what's to come.

AUTUMN's paradox offers me time
to gather all my nostalgia
like creatures forage for their winter larder
I will store up my treasured memories
to savor on a frigid winter's night
around the warmth of the dying embers
of my friendly hearth
and rest content in God's best plan.


AUTUMN is a wet, crunching bite
of a Shenandoah Valley orchard apple
a plump pumpkin time
a snuggle-under-covers season
a time for raking leaves
winding up the garden hose
pulling up dry plants
a porch furniture storing time
a moth-balled sweater
retrieved from the cedar closet
with last year's woolen gloves.

AUTUMN is a cushion
a subdued, leaf-fire-scented buffer
between the swelter of summer
and the wail of frigid winter:
my favorite interlude
this seasonal spectacular!

AUTUMN arrives with composure
and quiet earnestness
unlike the sudden burst of spring.
It signals flocks southward
elbowing harvesters
to hurry with their bounty tasks
before the latter rains.

AUTUMN causes football fever
in restless males: spectators and team.
It sets off ghostly squeals and costume madness
in the young for Halloween
while Thanksgiving menus and fall fashions
tantalize the female mind.

AUTUMN taps summer on the shoulder
nudges it out of the way
and displaces the sultry day
with crispy-cool jacket weather.

Welcome AUTUMN!
I eagerly trade
deep-breathing frosty morning walks
for sluggish dullness that stalks
humid hot July which I
only tolerate because
I anticipate AUTUMN.

The painted leaf, the falling leaf
evoke a tension in my emotions
between joy and grief:
regret for what I haven't done
at blaze of summer sun
and gratitude for living
to this moment of harvest
in relationships and nature.

The wardrobe of the seasons
would be incomplete and out-of-style
without the flashy scarf and golden cap
of AUTUMN and her smile!

P.S. Thanks, God, for not bargain shopping
but going first-class
when You thought up AUTUMN!


Please stay—just one more day—
it’s a long time 'til spring!

The lash of latter rains
conspire with whipping winds
to chase her off stage
but autumn splendor lingers
reluctant to retreat
without a final flourish.

Eager to please
autumn struts proudly
on mountain and meadow
pompously waving
her leafy scarlet scarves
like victory banners
defying frost and fading foliage
laughing with careless abandon
stunning my summer senses
with her breathtaking beauty.

Stay, autumn—just one more day
before winter disrobes you
to naked, shivering branches
reaching for mercy to the melancholy sky
while chilly gusts sting
your flushed face.


Crispy, frosty mornings cycle again
in a season of reflection, pensive nostalgia
granting me permission
to stroll the back roads of my mind
while wading ankle-deep in the paint-splashed carpet
kicking up waves of oak and hickory leaves
inhaling the musty mulch beneath my feet
while munching the wet crunch
and tart taste of a freshly picked Jonathan.

Here I can smell peace, forget schedules
concentrate on important things
like scampering squirrels
scurrying to stash acorns for winter larder.
I filter out all but the traffic noise
of wing-flapping, honking geese
heading South in the fast lane
while I take the exit ramp
to a blue line country lane
deliberately dragging my feet
trying to slow down my speeding life
that always seems to be
running a marathon ahead of me.


Temperamental days
bluffing me, mocking me
with teasing, wistful
coquettish ways:
Late October.

Lingering memories
of high July
blazing sun
and summer fun
are tossed on the run
but mixed with
frosty ecstasies.

Reminiscing time
that casts a chill
as winter steals
with cold appeals
slipping finally
into November's prime.


God outdid Himself again!
First He daubed His ruby brush
only on emerald maple tops
teasing them to shyly blush
then rouged their hues
with bolder strokes of scarlet bright
against the autumn cerulean blue
applying saffron-yellow
to catch the lingering rays
before the season’s early wrap
of a frigid starry night.

Suddenly this morning
all nature flamed aglow!
God must have tripped on a mountain
and dropped His palette below:
blazing gold and crimson
splashed on bush and tree
blotching lanes and lawns
spattering his paint recklessly.

Can a painter capture on canvas
such Divine display?
Or I, with feeble words of verse
His magnificence portray?
is without a peer
each season He paints
an original masterpiece
better than last year!

(Number 7 encored below:)

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