Welcome November

Welcome November

October is the eleventh month of the year in the Gregorian calendar, following October and preceding December. It is the last of four months to have a length of 30 days. In the ancient Roman calendar, In the ancient Roman calendar, November was the ninth month of the calendar. Its name comes from word "novem", which in Latin means “nine.” When the Romans converted to a 12-month calendar by adding January and February, they could not replace this month also on any Roman emperor. So, now let's welcome Happy New Month to November with Henry David Thoreau saying; “The thinnest yellow light of November is more warming and exhilarating than any wine they tell of. The mite which November contributes becomes equal in value to the bounty of July."

The month of November is traditionally a time in which the Christian Catholic community remembers those who have died. It is related to the fact that the end of November is the end of the Liturgical Year with a new year starting the First Sunday of Advent – the four-week period of preparation before Christmas. John Burroughs says that “How beautifully leaves grow old? How full of light and color are their last days?”

November is a month of late spring in the Southern Hemisphere and late autumn in the Northern Hemisphere. November is a relaxing month; because it's also the perfect month to get into a regular routine. With the chilly weather and calming vibes, November is a great time to take up meditation or go for a yoga class to get your body moving. It's an excellent month to recharge, set new intentions and learn something new.

November is the last month of the Fall season. November is a month of contrasts — dreary, grey skies combined with vivid red, gold, yellow and green leaves. It seems as if everything is changing — and sometimes the pace of change appears to be too fast. If you feel like this, retreat, relax and take some time for yourself. The flower for the month of November is the chrysanthemum. “Spring is brown; summer, green; autumn, yellow; winter, white; November, gray.” – Henry David Thoreau

People born in November often reflect the depth and mystery associated with this transitional period. Governed mostly by the zodiac signs Scorpio and lastly Sagittarius, November births produce individuals known for their intensity, passion, and adventurous spirit; these traits make November-borns particularly dynamic and influential, adding a layer of intrigue to their personalities. People born in November just can't help themselves but look very attractive. Without even trying they attract attention like bees to honey. People love to be in their witty and laidback presence.

The flower for the month of November is the chrysanthemum. In the US, the chrysanthemum generally symbolizes friendship, happiness, and well-being. However, If you want to express your sorrow or neglected love you would give a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums. Chrysanthemums: Especially in the Asian context, Chrysanthemum flowers are commonly used in funeral floral arrangements to say goodbye. White Chrysanthemums in particular are symbolic of bidding farewell, while celebrating a life well-lived by the dearly departed. The month of November may also be considered to be last of year's sequel before chill cold takes hold and life slows down to a hill.  

Cynthia Rylant finds some thing about food in the month when she says, “In November, the smell of food is different. It is an orange smell. A squash and pumpkin smell. It tastes like cinnamon and can fill up a house in the morning, can pull everyone from bed in a fog.” Clyde Watson looks on nature bounties when says; “November comes, and November goes. With the last red berries and the first white snows.” Aldo Leopold says it beautifully; "The wind that makes music in November corn is in a hurry. The stalks hum, the loose husks whisk skyward in half-playing swirls, and the wind hurries on... A tree tries to argue, bare limbs waving, but there is no detaining the wind."

E. E. Cummings sees through the open skies and says that “Peering from some high window, at the gold of November sunset and feeling that if day has to become night, this is a beautiful way.” Martin Luther King, Jr. looks into lives outside and says; "There comes a time when people get tired of being pushed out of the glittering sunlight of life's July and left standing amid the piercing chill of an alpine November." John Clare finds the month's glory as “So dull and dark are the November days. The lazy mist high up the evening curled, and now the morn quite hides in the smoke and haze; the place we occupy seems all the world.” One may sum up through L.M. Montgomery saying “But there is always a November space after the leaves have fallen when she felt it was almost indecent to intrude on the woods…for their glory terrestrial had departed and their glory celestial of spirit and purity and whiteness had not yet come upon them.”

A love poem about November; “It was November — the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.” Take me to the woods in November, let's walk in the gentle peace of the trees."

A Thanksgiving PoemBy Paul Laurence Dunbar

The sun hath shed its kindly light,
   Our harvesting is gladly o’er
Our fields have felt no killing blight,
   Our bins are filled with goodly store.

From pestilence, fire, flood, and sword
   We have been spared by thy decree,
And now with humble hearts, O Lord,
   We come to pay our thanks to thee.

We feel that had our merits been
   The measure of thy gifts to us,
We erring children, born of sin,
   Might not now be rejoicing thus.

No deed of our hath brought us grace;
   When thou were nigh our sight was dull,
We hid in trembling from thy face,
   But thou, O God, wert merciful.

Thy mighty hand o’er all the land
   Hath still been open to bestow
Those blessings which our wants demand
   From heaven, whence all blessings flow.

Thou hast, with ever watchful eye,
   Looked down on us with holy care,
And from thy storehouse in the sky
   Hast scattered plenty everywhere.

Then lift we up our songs of praise
   To thee, O Father, good and kind;
To thee we consecrate our days;
   Be thine the temple of each mind.

With incense sweet our thanks ascend;
   Before thy works our powers pall;
Though we should strive years without end,
   We could not thank thee for them all.

November : The month of changes!

To November,

Thanks a bunch

for reminding us,

that the letting go

is the only way to make roads

for new blooms!

It is November By Elizabeth Shield



It is November

And all the leaves face my way

Overlapping tussocks of grass

Like long forgotten hills

Dwelling in the overhang of fall

It is November

Orange ribbons hand in tatters

Patched up yellow cloaks are draped

And whisking in the wind

Then drifting to the earth

And becoming winters pillow

It is November

And there stands a lonely tower

Base adorned with red bushes

Flags no longer flying

Crouched and crippled by the frost

It is November

My feet bear down on acorns

A thousand fold

All left and forgotten

Even to the squirrels

Just a layer ‘neath my feet

It is November

The solitary pines stand solid

Near the ivy covered wall

Their boughs raise and hail the heavens

And their needles fall

As the autumn wind dances a mournful dance

It is November

Bare branches rake the cloudy skies

And scratch out their heartfelt pleas

Against cold glass windows

Seeking what they have lost and will not find

It is November

An old gate stands ajar

Beckoning to no one

Standing solidly open

Despite the cruel fall wind

It is November

Trees make colored circles

A fading gold on fading green

A fireworks display

Now falling to the ground

It is November

Cold air fills my body

Cruel wind tosses my hair

I seek a shelter from autumn

My door is open

Now I am home

Under The Full November Moon By Ian Lewis Copestick



Under a large, round, yellow

Full November moon

The chill of the cold, dark night

Slips in through my window

It fights against the heating

To send a shuddering shiver down my spine

Under the full November moon

People spill out of noisy pubs

Leaving heat, light, music

A false, inebriated happiness

To stagger, swirling home

To warm beds of love

Or cold, empty houses

And late night T.V.

Under the full November moon

Teenager's breath leaves clouds in the air

Hanging heavy and mingling with smoke

From spliffs secretly held in cupped hands

Hanging around shops, parks

Even the disappearing phone boxes

Feeling the arrogance of youth

Course through their veins

Under the full November moon

The middle aged sit

In armchairs with tea mugs

T.V. droning as they dream of their youth

When they were slim and ****

Or hungry and virile

Before it all slipped so quickly away

Under the full November moon

Swingers swap flesh and fluids

In hotels and motels

With no more passion or emotion

Than passing the salt

Under the full November moon

Prostitutes haul their tired, aching bodies

From car to car for the price of a hit

The dealers  swagger, stoked full of *******​

With the power and arrogance of mediaeval lords

Under the full November moon

People sweat in police cells

Under grey, itchy blankets

On blue rubber mattresses

In a white - tiled nightmare

Under the full November moon

I think of them all

As I sir writing ideas

In a cheap, lined pad

Then turn off the lights

As the full November moon

Bids goodnight

To us all