Category: Ode

Nature · Non-Fiction · Ode

Ode to the Scent of Autumn

AinaBalagtas8 Comments
Courtesy of Pexels

Oh, fragrant breath of autumn’s slow descent,

You linger soft in whispers on the breeze,

With notes of auburn, amber, gold, all spent

In leaf and bark, among the mighty trees.

A haunting beauty wraps the world in hues

Of dying light, yet vibrant still, and bold.

Each scent, like age-old stories, winds and woos—

The musk of earth, a flame to chase the cold.

Your air holds echoes of forgotten days,

Of laughter lost, yet somehow near at hand;

In every scent, a memory’s warm blaze,

A spark of life now scattered through the land.

Nostalgia stirs, both bittersweet and kind,

And with it, tears—joy’s laughter laced with pain.

For autumn calls our truest selves to mind,

In every fading leaf, a sweet refrain.

So linger here, dear season of the heart,

Where scents and colors mourn yet celebrate.

In fleeting hours, you weave your tender art,

A beauty only time can consecrate.

Creative · Nature · Non-Fiction · Ode

Ode to the Autumn Lover

AinaBalagtas3 Comments
Photo courtesy of Pexels

She moves through autumn like a whispered breeze,

Her soul alight with leaves that dance and twirl,

Each step a rustle through the amber trees,

Each glance a tribute to this changing world.

Her heart beats in the rhythm of the fall,

When foliage glimmers in golds and reds,

And trees stand proud, though knowing soon they’ll sprawl,

Their crowns laid gently on the forest beds.

The sky, a canvas brushed with fleeting light,

Draws out her wonder—oh, how wide she sees!

An aerial view of hills in autumn’s might,

Painted with passion by the changing trees.

See loves the season’s grace, the crisp, cool air,

The bittersweetness found in time’s embrace.

For every leaf that falls without despair

Teaches her heart the art of fleeting grace.

Her joy is rooted deep in autumn’s song,

Where endings bloom, and all feels right, not wrong.

Creative · Ode

An Ode To Fall

AinaBalagtas3 Comments

For the taming of sun in September,

To the grace of harvests on October,

For the pumpkins and stuffed turkeys in November,

To the cascades of red, gold, and amber

Up in the air and down the road—

For hot chocolates and s’mores:

Linger Fall ‘til December,

Just a little bit more.

Related:

To Fall

The Ballad of Fall

Love · Ode · Poetry

Fill Me

AinaBalagtas3 Comments

Like the scent of pine
In winter;
Like the green
In spring;
Like the warmth of sun
In summer;
Like the sands
In ocean;
Like the currents
In river;
Like the rapids
To waterfall–
Fill me
My darling;
Fill me,
Love me,
’til the end!

Love · Non-Fiction · Ode

Ode To Love that Defies All Odds

AinaBalagtas8 Comments
Love is not a fleeting spark,
But hope that kindles in the dark,
A flame that dances in the rain,
Through every loss, through every gain.

O love, that rises from the depths,
When all the world has turned away,
You stand, unwavering and bright,
A flame that night cannot betray.

When storms rage fierce and shadows grow,
And doubts creep in like creeping vines,
You hold your ground, defying fate,
Unbroken by the world’s designs.

What walls are built, what chains are thrown,
You shatter all with quiet grace,
A force no time nor trial can bind,
An endless strength, a boundless space.

O love that fights, O love that dares,
That climbs each mountain, breaks each chain—
In you we see the truth unveiled,
That nothing real can end in pain.

So let them speak, let doubts arise,
For love like ours knows not defeat.
It soars above, against the wind,
In every heart, a steady beat.

For love that conquers all the odds,
Is love that lives beyond the stars,
Unseen, untamed, yet always near—
A power greater than what’s far.

Creative · Non-Fiction · Ode · Writing True

The Joy of Scribbling, an Ode

AinaBalagtas5 Comments

Describe one habit that brings you joy.

O sacred pen, O parchment pure and white,
In thee, I find my soul’s delight,
For within thy boundless realm of ink,
My thoughts and dreams converge and sync.

With every stroke, a world is born,
A canvas vast where ideas are sworn,
To dance and play upon the page,
In timeless tale or fervent rage.

The rustling sound of paper’s kiss,
A symphony of endless bliss,
Each word a note, each phrase a song,
In writing’s embrace, I belong.

O muse, thou art my guiding star,
In realms of fiction, near and far,
Thy whispering voice, a gentle breeze,
That carries me through stormy seas.

From dawn’s first light to twilight’s hue,
In writing, I am ever new,
A creator, a dreamer, a humble scribe,
Inking out the pulse of life’s tide.

In poetry’s sweet, rhythmic flow,
Or prose where deeper meanings grow,
The joy of writing fills my heart,
A treasured gift, an endless art.

With pen in hand, I’m never alone,
In every word, a seed is sown,
Of thoughts profound or simple cheer,
In writing, all is bright and clear.

So let the ink run swift and free,
A testament to creativity,
For in this joy, I find my truth,
An eternal flame, a fountain of youth.