Posted by Brad Osborne on August 13, 2022 · 18 Comments
Leaves fall like flakes of gold and bronze,
Tumbling through the cool autumn air…
Filed under Poetry · Tagged with autumn, colors, dreams, fall, fauna, flora, life, poem, Poetry, seasons, sleep, spring, summer, time, winter
Posted by Brad Osborne on July 30, 2022 · 9 Comments
Greenery remains aloft
As yet to take the plunge
And dapples mountain far as soft
As painter’s well-worn sponge
Posted by Brad Osborne on May 15, 2022 · 12 Comments
Oh, fair stalks of ripened grain,
Flowing like the lion’s mane…
Filed under Poetry · Tagged with amber, autumn, beauty, bounty, farmer, field, golden, grain, land, poem, Poetry, reaping, ripened, seasons, waves
Posted by Brad Osborne on August 14, 2021 · 20 Comments
Leaves fall like flakes of gold and bronze,
Tumbling through the cool autumn air…
Filed under Poetry · Tagged with autumn, colors, dreams, fall, fauna, flora, life, poem, Poetry, seasons, sleep, spring, summer, time, winter
Posted by Brad Osborne on July 21, 2021 · 21 Comments
Greenery remains aloft
As yet to take the plunge
And dapples mountain far as soft
As painter’s well-worn sponge
Posted by Brad Osborne on June 10, 2021 · 14 Comments
Oh, fair stalks of ripened grain,
Flowing like the lion’s mane…
Filed under Poetry · Tagged with amber, autumn, beauty, bounty, farmer, field, golden, grain, land, poem, Poetry, reaping, ripened, seasons, waves
Posted by Brad Osborne on August 30, 2020 · 26 Comments
With reds and golds and yellow hues
The autumn trees paint a vivid view
Filed under Poetry · Tagged with autumn, color, death, holding on, last, leaves, life, Life lessons, poems, Poetry, strict form poetry, trees, winter
Posted by Brad Osborne on November 18, 2019 · 9 Comments
Cornfields tall cut short by farmer’s scythe,
Frost greeting each long-shadowed sunrise,
Days seem to be but a flashing of light,
Before again the cold and dark of night.
Filed under Poetry · Tagged with autumn, change, fall, lament, passing of time, poem, poems, Poetry, seasons, strict form poetry, winter
Posted by Brad Osborne on September 10, 2019 · 11 Comments
Greenery remains aloft
As yet to take the plunge
And dapples mountain far as soft
As painter’s well-worn sponge
commonsensiblyspeaking 