Autumns Death by Francisco Augusto

Silent death be upon us,
Peace be a thing of the past.

Silence is the cleansing opiate
The elixir of those who suffer
,From the fiery, ferocious flames of death.

Tree’s despair
As their children disperse
Into an eternity of bleak virtue.

The earth rumbles,
As silence crumbles
Cascading into the pits of hell.
The black wind breathes,
The white air grieves

For the passing of a season,
A death, with no reason

Autumn Thoughts by Dominic Aveiro

Humans are a funny bunch to please,


They believe in what they see with too much ease,

Yet the firey-orange my children adopt,

Every Autumn cannot fool them,

Every year they'll reach the ground,

Every year I'll hear the sound,

Of a ressonating crunch whisper through the winds.



We try and ressemble fires,

while those we try and please already emulate it.