I’ve found an amazing group of poets at Carrot Ranch.com: double ennead challenges where every third Monday of the month, I host the Double Ennead Challenge as a guest at the Saddle Up Saloon.

Follow the link to the challenge HERE

What’s a double ennead? The Double Ennead comprises five lines with a syllable count of 6/5/11/6/5, (33 SYLLABLES per stanza) 3 STANZAS EACH = 99 SYLLABLES, NO MORE, NO LESS! Punctuation and rhyme schemes are optional and up to the poet.

This month, I asked everyone to think about how Autumn interacts with our six senses (taste, touch, sight, smell, hearing, and intuition) as we composed our double ennead poems.

Our senses help us take in information from the world. Our senses are a powerful tool that helps us convey messages to our readers by providing a connection to the imagery inside their heads.

Here are the poems from the September 20, 2021 challenge on Carrot Ranch.com:

"September Time"

The Indian summer
swansong brings wasps out,
their buzzing, sharp, stripey warning. Time to hide!
Rain brings aural release.
Sweet, steaming cocoa.

Music no longer rings
through screens from Albert
Hall, for cakes and sequins mist up TV, now:
icy eyes stalk the tent,
before glitter-belles

and joyful Johannes
feast on fashion. Time
to flaunt my colours: deep green, bold burgundy,
and thick, rich-purple socks.
Time for Autumn's shine.

© E.A. Colquitt

Breathe in Autumn’s harvest.
nature’s smudging cleanse!
Every step a cidery press of scents
green melting in fall fire
summer ferns kneel brown.

See Autumn’s praise-songs.
Gatherings of voices!
Choired trees exalting in crackling colored tongues
tart air an apple bite
wing strokes flute bell skies.

Hear Autumn’s palette.
Offerings of colors!
Quicksilvered moonshadow songs of coyotes
red leaves’ raining patter
blue forgotten dreams.

D. Avery from Comments

"Golden Dame"

Elegant sylph up high
Grand receptacle;
Espouser of light, ardor, and purity 
Salacious savvy star
Golden deity  

Source of serene delight
Gracing earth tonight
With your internal glow you complement us
Sweet direct convergence 
September full moon 

Clouds that hide you from me
Find me lusterless 
Yet O-gape I be, your face I know by heart 
And so I float to you 
Raze the clouds away 

© selmamartin.com

"The Shape of the Season-A Taste of a Canadian Fall Election"

A light sprinkling of rain,
a hum of voices,
a slow-moving line of Covid citizens,
a masked electorate
democracies feat.

The Gymnasium is cool,
fresh autumn air flows,
a penetrating sound shakes the old hall.
Rusty bolts on the move
as hammers pound in.

From eleven to one
scrutineering fun,
carrot, banana, orange, nary a gun
under grey cloudy skies
we shall overcome.

© Bill Engleson in Comments

"Esprit Egression (*plus…)"

In the autumn of life
The inkwell was still
In use by the paper thin skinned hand that now
Shook just a little more
While filling the page

Letters scritchity scratched
Black India Ink
Ran, danced, echoed memories real and
Imagined from the pen
Capturing moments

Until the cold winter
Arrived leaving just
The bare bones to drape on the author’s desk chair
Would fame come now that death
Had taken all else?

© JulesPaige

"In the Shadow of Pumpkin Lattes & Fall Sightseeing"

pumpkin spiced hot coffee
lures locals to drive
thru the steel girders of the Keweenaw lift bridge
defying construction
zones and stalled traffic

cars emit fuel fumes waiting
to hum across the
water that divides the peninsula
where colorful autumn leaves
beckon fall tourists

the taste of pumpkin spice
erases the thought
that it wasn’t worth the costs to cross the bridge
denial or excess
we thrill to burn gas

© Charli Mills in Comments

"The Turning"

let me know the turning
morning mists open
fire engine reds blow out in hot bursts - siren!
speak my name softly now
imprint on my skull

my eyes wide in pleasure
I dream of genies
undress my body, overlay our bones' breath
one button at a time
acorns plink, plonk, drop

bottled rain laps the lake
Autumn comes tonight
in the hunter's full moon we gather, howling
lay me down in her bed
I pray for solace


Scarlet in midnight's bliss
dances in silver,
as a cardinal calls in the willow bush,
her swirling skirts a flame,
a shell by dawn's light.

Her lips offer a kiss
as the moon quivers,
siren red bells jangle bruising Autumn's shush,
she, never to be tamed,
fanciful in flight.

She swims freely, a fish
tied by the moon's sash,
his song fires her heartbeat, quickens in ambush,
her lover awaits, game,
she is Autumn's lass.


The woodsman with his axe
regards the old tree,
blushing apples, once blossoms held in Spring's palm
adorn the branches flush,
its bark, waved ridges;

time, in its slow rush, grooves
the skin of her face,
maiden she was, carrying herself with grace,
a silver wedding band
gifted by the moon

binds each to the other
long offered in June;
wood smoke singes the air, she a flame's shadow,
lingers, stinging his eyes;
Autumn's apples sigh.

© Pocket Poems, et al.

"Winter Calls"

We flow into autumn
from summer’s embrace
when twilight hastens and the sun rides low
ripening abundance
a gilded farewell

Quilted paths of crimson
through colors we roam
mugs of cloved cider and a cinnamon moon
our pumpkin’s grin candled
memories loosen

When scents of woodsmoke curl
on crisp, crackling morns
will you weave me a shawl from skeins of soft wool
hold me warm by the fire
for my winter calls

© D. Wallace Peach


mother says, “let it be”
autumn is here now
yet, the grass and trees are still green and it’s warm
we love the cool breezes 
acorns on the ground

brown leaves are floating down
not yet in color 
north Texas is very different from NY city
where one sweater or two
were needed for warmth

no wood burning this year
drought is upon us
the earth is thirsty, pumpkin spice will not do
a freeze is not likely
Mother, color please

© Ruth Klein’s Scribbles

"Three Wishes"

If you had three wishes, 
How would you use them – 
Rewind that video, erase the harsh words? 
The screech of Raven birds, 
That echo; echo. 

Perhaps you’ll imagine,
Ingressing the dream – 
A luxurious penthouse in the city?
Clear vista so pretty,
No dust specks dancing.

Maybe you’ll ease world peace, 
Spritzing a great gift – 
On all those with power to use it for right?
Each wish; has destined might; 
Take care how you choose.

© Laura McHarrie

Many thanks to everyone who took part in this challenge, and to the Saloon at Carrot Ranch for the opportunity to spread our poetry writing wings. What a thrill to read all the incredible poetic descriptions of Autumn. The next time you feel stuck in a writer’s rut, try penning some descriptions of your favorite seasons. I predict you’ll be unstuck in no time.

Write Poetry

I’ll be back at the Saloon, on Monday, October 18th for another word filled double ennead challenge!