Smoke On The Water
by Kate Burnside

An experiment of three poems in one: one read across, two down. The really cool thing
would be if all three poems had slightly different senses and meanings, but alas mine
are pretty much the same! :)) xx


so what if                                                      there is smoke on the water

a fuming wrath                                             that drifts un-netted

burns up life                                                 before our very eyes

our well-spring stopped                             so we shall never drink again

we send our silver men                              to waterless planets

to drill for knowledge                                   we look to the future

yet liquid rock                                                in gutted repulsion

spews back                                                   at what we have done

our earth sign revolts                                   Taurus has blazing nostrils

and tilts his horn to plentiful revenge        El Toro brings down

his steaming iron hoof                               his black-scorching punishment

all-consuming                                               with ire's flame
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By Leann Marshall

Frozen for
A moment
She lifts
amber eyes

sweep ‘cross

through hushed
cool night

just another

she slips easily

but not lonely

in truest form

starkly present
yet fleeting
as an autumn
Important Note: These original writings are copyrighted,  belong to those
who created them, and should not be used in any way without their
“One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good
poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few
reasonable words.” –Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Welcome to the creative page of my personal Website. Those who
have been here before know what to expect—some good writes of
a seasonal theme by many different authors.
I hope you had a great summer and that you get pleasure from this
new Sketch Notes as a fun jump-start into the Fall.

If this is your first visit, as you read the poetry you can click on each
author's name to take you to their authorsden site to see more of
their work.
Also, enjoy the links to Sketch Notes archives at the bottom of the

Now grab a cup of cider, sit back, and enjoy this October Sketch
For, even in our surest moments, there must always be a little room
for mystery…

~Leann Marshall
“I cannot endure to waste anything as precious

As an autumn day, by staying inside the house,

So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air.”

~Nathaniel Hawthorne

A Whiff Of Autumn
By Mr. Ed

My dogs had again awakened me before dawn

They had sniffed something different ‘out there’

And soon, we were wandering down the lane

A Whiff of Autumn, was now definitely in the air

And, what a truly magnificent sensation that it was

A very brisk Autumn breeze, had visited us overnight

My canines all soon paused, to joyously ‘sniff’ it all in

As did I, after summer’s intense heat, a wonderful delight

Soon, we were joyously heading down to the lakeshore

Where we spotted a duck and her ducklings, gliding by

Even these aquatic creatures, seemed to have noticed it

Mother Duck knew it was time her offspring learned to fly

As we stood on the lakeshore, with a Whiff of Autumn in the air

Several industrious squirrels, soon began chattering and gathering

They, too, seemed to sense that it was time to prepare for the future

The harsh reality of the approaching winter, this cool breeze did bring

My dogs and I sat there lakeside for several hours, enjoying the breeze

As the forest birds now seemed to be singing an Ode to the coming Fall

I doubt that I could ever live anywhere, that didn’t have all four seasons

As we now headed back towards home, I couldn’t help but marvel at it all

©September 2010, Mr. Ed
Ghostly Harvest
by A PAX

The night was fresh, yet old as time
The air was black, 'neath lunar shine
Winds cried, ignored by smokey clouds
As spirits walked, in mortal shrouds

On chosen nights they roam with breath
The paradox to peaceful death
They roam by group, they roam alone
They were the seeds, now harvest grown
Autumn Rose
by Poetess Of The Heart La Belle Rouge

she blooms to bring joy
beyond her stone garden wall
fragrance borne on breeze

bouquet distinctive
soft petals caressed by sun
unfaded red rose

when winter claims her
petals of autumn splendor
their scent will linger

she blooms at his touch
though he is not the gardener
only her sun and dew

10/8/2008 La Belle Rouge
Element: Fire
by JoAnna Drelleshak

A single spark flies
Like a disjointed thought
And suddenly flashes brighter
The creative juices burning brilliantly
A bonfire of wild fantasy
Clock Will Chime
by Samuel E Stone

A whisper in the wind,

a softly spoken sound,

voices of next of kin,

spirits essence surround.

Dark of the darkest night,

feelings you’re not alone,

shadow dance in the light,

hearing the fading tones.

Nestled all snug in bed,

sights, sounds confuse,

wondering if you're dead,

nothing seems to amuse.

Tricks played on the mind,

midnight’s shadowing hour,

feelings alter existing time,

and real fright can devour.

Ticking clock will chime,

as it sounds ever so loud,

curled up in bed we weep,

figures in ghostly clouds.


Samuel E. Stone, Copyright© 2009
by Sandra S Corona

Halloween poem.

Scuttling along, as if non-existent,
(existence is mandatory for substance)
puff! What an illusion
to cause mental confusion.
Whoosh--night winds lead me toward
. . . pinpricks of light.
I am worn, a threadbare carpet
. . . in life’s building—
e’en the slumlord cast me out.
My age-blackened portrait hangs ‘neath sickle moon
(if I were alive, my being would swoon).
It sways, lop-sided, in substantial light;
cobwebs weave over the face I once wore.
Whoosh--night winds push me toward
. . . pinpricks of light.
I am worn, a threadbare carpet
. . . in life’s building—
e’en the slumlord cast me out;
now, ghostly, I’m out and about.
You can smell me comin’ round, pungent I sway
in an advanced state of rot, decay.
I put up a fight, never took flight that day--
whoosh--night winds evoke, prod me, toward
. . . pinpricks of light.
I’m worn, a threadbare carpet
. . . in life’s building—
e’en the slumlord cast me out
and folks laid me in the hollowed ground to stay.
Now . . . I might as well leave
as no one’s left to grieve me.
There are no tricks up my sleeve.
Whoosh--night winds prevail toward
. . . pinpricks of light.
I’m worn, a threadbare carpet
. . . in life’s building—
e’en the slumlord cast me out.
E’en spirits can succumb to mis’ry
when no one is left to miss thee.
I give myself a bit of fright
in haunting hues of pitch black night . . .

Halloween Streets
by Sherry Gail Heim

A haunted night of ghouls and beasts
When vampires search for bloody feasts
There are witches casting evil spells
Stirring cauldrons spewing nasty smells

Black cats howl out into the night
At evil pumpkins glowing bright
Skeletons hanging down from the trees
Play eerie music on the breeze

Banshees scream above the streets
Where children dare to beg for treats
Of candy apples and popcorn balls
As ghosts fly out from haunted walls

A mummy limps in moldy rags
A detached leg behind him drags
Zombies hearing unknown voice
Walk in a daze without a choice

Goblins hide in trunks of trees
Undetected, grabbing kids with ease
To steal their sacks of candy treats
Then chase them back to haunted streets

Werewolves awake in full moon light
Rip up the towns throughout the night
Bats with glowing red-gold eyes
Drop down as vampires from the skies

Children on the streets beware
And travel on this night with care
There are evil spirits that fill the air
Who will steal your souls without a care

Copyright © Sherry Gail Heim 2009
A Devil Lives in New Jersey
by Ed Matlack

A Devil Lives in New Jersey…

His hooves they do prance,

Along the forgotten paths,

Of the pinelands,

Where he does live out his wrath…

His mother did damn him,

To roam the forests of pine,

Invoking fear in a child’s spine,

Shiver do they, this creature part equine…

Fear even I do have,

To go into the barrens,

At night when the devil does prowl,

No amount of light does scare him off,

His hunger for meat of the human kind,

His only desire, he will eat it raw, devouring your mind…

Animals do all hide in terror,

They know this creature, make no error,

He has been around these parts,

Since its own dawn of birth,

Set apart from humans, he does fear nothing…

Is this just a Halloween poem?

Or is the devil real, do we know em’?

The pineys do know of his presence,

It makes them quite tense,

Fear of the unknown certainly does make sense…
by Christine Alwin

Lost in the country,
harvesting love in my heart,
of poems you planted
Cat.........................................Leann Marshall
A Whiff Of Autumn...............................Mr. Ed
Ghostly Harvest....................................A PAX
Autumn Rose...........................La Belle Rouge
Element: Fire......................JoAnna Drelleshak
Smoke On The Water.................Kate Burnside
Clock Will Chime.....................Samuel E Stone
Ghost....................................Sandra S Corona
Halloween Streets..................Sherry Gail Heim
A Devil Lives In New Jersey.............Ed Matlack
Harvest......................................Christine Alwin
Thanks for visiting Sketch Notes, the
seasonal and creative page of my
personal Website:

I enjoy reading and writing (check out
my two fiction novels,
The Starfish
People and The Rendering.)

I created Sketch Notes as a fun way to
express myself poetically, but I love to
feature other writers' work with a
link back to their own Websites.
Links to Sketch Notes archives are at

My philosophy as quoted by Johann
Wolfgang von Goethe:
"One ought, every day at least, to hear a
little song, read a good poem, see a fine
picture, and, if it were possible, to speak
a few reasonable words.”

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Notes, tell your friends,  and visit

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