a collection of autumn themed poems

table of contents

It is no surprise to anyone that Halloween is my favorite season.


To many, it may seem spooky or gloomy, but to me, I see past the gloom. The vibrant colors of the changing trees, the doldrums of school, I love it all. This is the time when the scholastic bowl season starts, when people dress in costumes and watch horror movies and solicit candy from strangers, when the days aren't swelteringly hot or freezing cold.


To me, autumn is a cozy season, full of rich earth tones, warm teas, and old, dusty tomes. This is why I chose to base these poems on autumn.

Explanations on Theme

Sitting over by the fire

Solemnly watching, a pumpkin

Reaches with invisible arms toward warmth

While she reads a book

And sips at her tea

Watching gently falling leaves


She is weary of raking the leaves

And throwing them in the fire

So she can sip her tea

And sit next to her pumpkin

And finish her book

All the while searching for warmth


Soon, the fireplace will be ready to fill her house with warmth

Kindled by the autumn leaves

As she goes inside to read her book

Next to the roaring fire

But without her little orange pumpkin

Just pumpkin spice tea


But soon the mug of tea

Will be devoid of warmth

And the bright orange pumpkin

Like the bright leaves

Will be nothing more than fodder for the fire

As she finishes her book


As she finishes and closes the book

And sips at her tea

And looks at the dying fire

Still giving off warmth

She looks at the trees’ falling leaves

And her single, carved pumpkin


Soon the rotting pumpkin

Next to the finished book

Will be covered with dead leaves

And the cold tea

Is next to the inviting warmth

Of the smoldering fire


Next autumn, the pumpkin sitting by the fire

Next to the book and reaching for warmth

By the leaves, will wait for her to finish her tea.


By the fire

A sestina


Ghosts in the dark
Tripping over quick feet
Sharing the spoils of the night









First frost
Settles over land
Whisper-soft and gentle
Like a hand gliding over skin






The Haunted House

She lays in wait

Ready for the next group

To approach the bush

Where she hides.

Today, she is a witch

With green skin

And a cackling laugh

Tomorrow, she will be a zombie

Or perhaps a vampire

Or an axe murderer

She loves her job.

Autumn Leaves

The small pile of leaves

At the end of my driveway

Gets bigger every day

And I can see children

Silently waiting

Until it is big enough

For them to jump into

To play in

To throw around

Until I rake them up again.


that can be cut with a knife

as the door creaks open

the silvery glint of his weapon

flashing through the crack.

covering my eyes

he's right behind you!

i scream

as i realize

she won't be the final girl after all.

horror movie marathons in the dark

O, the pumpkin spice coffee

With your caramel exterior

Is loved almost as much as toffee

To tea drinkers, there is no replacement

For this latte, vastly superior

And found depending on Starbucks's placement.


The pumpkin spice coffee's rich taste

Of allspice and cinnamon and cream

Will make no drop go to waste

And make a smile gleam.




A short ode to Pumpkin Spice Coffee