Category: motivation

Ah, September! You are the doorway to the seas…

Ah, September! You are the doorway to the season that awakens my soul… but I must confess that I love you only because you are a prelude to my beloved October.

I used to love September, but now it just rhym…

I used to love September, but now it just rhymes with remember.

Yeah – Sure I remember Matter of fact it was j…

Yeah – Sure I remember
Matter of fact it was just last September
She still calls it the fall to remember

In his or her own way, everyone I saw before m…

In his or her own way, everyone I saw before me looked happy. Whether they were really happy or just looked it, I couldn’t tell. But they did look happy on this pleasant early afternoon in late September, and because of that I felt a kind of loneliness new to me, as if I were the only one here who was not truly part of the scene.

We know that in September, we will wander thro…

We know that in September, we will wander through the warm winds of summer’s wreckage. We will welcome summer’s ghost.

for all I can really do is stand here in Septe…

for all I can really do is
stand here
in September’s rain
savoring…
soaking it all in
slipping..
and simply
holding on to poetry
for dear life.

In the face of impossible odds, people who lov…

In the face of impossible odds, people who love this country can change it.

The first flash of color always excites me as …

The first flash of color always excites me as much as the first frail, courageous bloom of spring. This is, in a sense, my season–sometimes warm and, when the wind blows an alert, sometimes cold. But there is a clarity about September. On clear days, the sun seems brighter, the sky more blue, the white clouds take on marvelous shapes; the moon is a wonderful apparition, rising gold, cooling to silver; and the stars are so big. The September storms–the hurricane warnings far away, the sudden gales, the downpour of rain that we have so badly needed here for so long–are exhilarating, and there’s a promise that what September starts, October will carry on, catching the torch flung into her hand.

… but as has been said, September read …

… but as has been said, September read often, and liked it best when words did not pretend to be simple, but put on their full armor and rode out with colors flying.

September: it was the most beautiful of words,…

September: it was the most beautiful of words, he’d always felt, evoking orange-flowers, swallows, and regret.