Dafremen Green Leaves Fall R.Dafremen

With the fall of leaves,it seems
Comes the end of times for some
The end of summer for others
The end of innocence for us all.

The cold winds blow
Crisp leaves drop earthward
Their fallen remains mask the frantic pounding of fearful hearts
In the end, broken leaves and fearful hearts remain.

Returning from the beaches
Emerging from the bunkers
Thrown into mass hysteria
Awakened from our slumber

With the fall of leaves and dreams
The smell of burning fills the air
Strangles the air with the burning screams of 6,000 some-odd dying dreams
The desperate screams of leaves, about to fall.

Cold burning-stone sky falls
The screams drop earthward, our hearts in tow
As the dust settles, the fear settles and the cold chill hits
The reality hits, that we know all too well what must come:

The fall's end signals the start of winter
Whose rule is marked by the uncertainty of living, by want and by suffering
A time when the best prepared survive, the weak and foolish perish
It is a time after the leaves have fallen..when the cold winds blow.
ClairE des feuilles

girlie In September, the leaves
On the tree outside
That window were green.
Inviting life and fresh air,
Warm breezes through
The branches. That tree
Still stands, but is not
The same. The leaves
Are gone now. Invisible
Or fallen, they are no longer
There. The tree is brown
And old, it doesn’t hold
The glory it once did.
But next spring, it will
Be back. It will smile
Again, and lend a kind hand
To those wishing to seek shade.
Maybe those leaves
Were placed without consent,
Just holding on for the
Greater good. Don’t make
Waves. But next spring
Will be different. Those leaves
Will not be confined.
Not the same. Now they’re
Faded, but soon they’ll be
Lush and green again.
Thriving on a new tree.
irrational dreamer with the falling leaves
you fell away from me
with the snow
you returned
but it's not the same
you're cold now
like the snow
you come once in a while
i feel excitement
like snow days in high school
but you're cold
not warm, like last summer
not even like fall
i miss the warmth of last summer
not that much warmth...
only the warmth of friendship
i miss you
will you come back with spring?
jane he leaves
oh wait

he was never there
birdmad fall down

drift more slowly than falling stars

hear them crackle beneath footsteps

rustling carpet, trace of the Merlin's dragon molting its scales to mark time's tides

red and gold and rust

but look

new and green where the old falls away

where the old falls away

i feel brittle
meehall water glistens like little jewels
on leaves
in the morning
gerti rouge Regress: leaves falling, fade to
Purple, yellow, and brown.
Bruised shades of distaste.
realistic optimist a couple years ago, i was in a real pit of despair. you know the kind: hopeless and helplessly so. on this particular day, i was bundled up, as much to keep the cold out as the rest of the world, i had enough to deal with without more of its cruel tentacles trying to creep into my mind with its hentai like probing.

i had headphones and walkman, with my worn out tape of haujobb's wonderfully industrial overtones clanging out the metal shell in which the visceral bits of humanity cry out to be free of such stifling constraints which are, after all, imposed by our own creation! i had taken this tape from a water_brother back home; had taken it out here where i was supposed to be making my mark on the world, but it was feeling like the only mark that would be made would be accompanied by a splattering sound.

i was lost in this hell of my own making, and did not even know there was a way out, nor did i even seek one anymore. i was resigned to it, such was the power of my sorrow.

i was reading a wonderful wonderful book as i walked, a book of such shining hope and beauty that i had randomly picked up at an estate sale. it was god in christian's clothing speaking through the woman's words. normally, due to my upbringing and my ignorance at the time, this would have kept me from listening, but she so obviously had transcended any label that i could do nothing but let the words seep in. (marianne williamson? i cannot for the life of me remember the author nor the book, as someone else needed to read the book when i was done, and i've not gotten it back. the best books are replaced often ;))

as i slid down the street, this astrologically appropriate juxtaposition of despair reading of beauty and hope while listening to haujobb and wishing i could feel that way again, a single leaf, perhaps the most beautiful and powerful leaf i've ever encountered landed right on my book.

it was the most wonderfully radiant shining color of gold, tinged with a few remaining bits of green to remind me that it had once been vibrantly alive. it had veins of arterial crimson and i looked up to see its thousand cousins shimmering at me.

just then a wind skated through the limbs of the row of maples and they all did a dance just for me. i placed the leaf in my book and continued to walk. i was still resisting the tentacles of the world, dont ya know?

as i got onto the max (an above ground light rail train here in town) i began weeping. first lightly, then uncontrollably. you see, this leaf did not go out in a puff of grey dust. it went out like jesus. it went out like michael valentine smith. it went out with style and purpose. and accomplished a great deal with its passing.

that moment was a Turning Moment for me. paradigm shifting, thought reordering, life-altering, Turning Moment. whenever anyone talks of the leaves turning, i smile a private smile.

that halloween it was quite easy to decide what i wanted to be. dead does not mean dead i had realized, or dying did not mean dying at the very least. so to honor a holiday for the dead, i wanted to be that tree.

so i gathered all the leaves from that row of trees which had fallen, and the sticks and twigs too. i searched through them to find the most beautiful and the ones that "went with" the others. i bought a piece of brown thich cordouroy cloth and cut it into connected half way strips, and stuck the connected end into the top of my boots so the roots could dangle. i got plastic fake maple branches from the local store and sewed them onto my brown corduoroy shirt, glueing real maple leaves on top with a hot glue gun. i borrowed a friend's brown flowy skirt for the trunk. friends braided my hair and attatched branches to a hidden crown on my head, after we had glued leaves to the branches. (it was tough to drive to the halloween party since i'm already well over 6' tall and had branches sticking out of my head poking the roof of my japanese car.) i danced and sang and shimmered and shone cuz that dead ol' leaf wouldn't leave me alone.
misstree that makes my face threaten to fall apart 'cause i'm smiling so wide.

though it's not so much the reason for its origin, part of the reason that i carry the name tree with such pride, why i would feel like a pretender (like Lord Hubris, Uberninja of the Underdark or somesuch) if trees weren't so consistently overlooked, is that they have the darnedest way of just being about wherever you go, waiting patient and unnoticed, until you need them, and they lend a leaf without any outward sign that they're actually playing with you.

i'm not any kind of druidy witchy type, but i seriously see trees as very powerful spiritual totems, but overlooked... the thought of trees going into winter, of them crowing with color as they drop their gentle leaves, then retreating, "having the hard appearance of death" but being simply waiting, gathering for spring's rebirth in leaps and bounds... winter is not death, winter is a time of retreat and reformation...

dangit, realop, look what you did! i'm supposed to shut my yap and process claims today, but noooo, you had to go and give me an outlet to rant about the myriad beauties of trees, both concrete and symbolic (which i have barely touched, i might add), at the same time as you filled my black little heart with energy and hope and pride--how dare you! and while i don't have time to truly devote myself to the rest of the rant... *sniff* no, it's fine, i'll just... *snif sniff* go process some... claims... now... *sniff*

Death of a Rose All I can think of is the colours, alive leaves, dead leaves. Like clothing bought to wear for a while, then dropped, forgotten and replaced by newer, hipper, jazzier kind of clothing appropriate for the season.

Trees should not be overlooked. Shade, solid, rooted, play yards, outlooks, 360 degrees of view, homes, clear cutted, stability shrines brought down by mongols.
realistic optimist yay! i somehow got the authoress' name right! marianne williamson and the book was illuminata. i truly recommend her writing, and apparently she has a radio show now, too! ok i'll leave this blathe to the leaves... 031009
ninecat All the shades of green you can find on one tree in the summer. If you lie beneath it, and the wind is blowing lightly, and the sun is out. On the bottom leaves, you can see all the moving shadows of the leaves above it. It's one of my favorite feelings. 041206
(_) plastic-wrapped
and Ziploc-bagged,
the label proclaims "sterile."

break the seal
and open the box,
take one out
and turn it over
to see the number stamped on the back.
what's it to you?
who go