Here it is September and September Poems While we hadn't said goodbye to summer yet, it suddenly knocked on our door. It will surround us with its rains and yellowing leaves. Autumn is the season of poets. It always smells of hazard.

The rains and the yellowing leaves evoke the farewell scene of a movie. September is especially special for many. September Poem poets who come to mind.

Let's listen to the poets' poems about the season, the poets' poems about September from the poets' pen.

September Poems

Atilla İlhan, Rain Runaway

Take my hand or I'll fall
Or one by one the stars will fall
If I'm a poet, if you know me

If you know I'm afraid of the rain
If you think of my eyes
Take my hand or I'll fall
The rain will take me away

If you hear a palpitation at night
I'm running from the rain in a hurry
I'm passing through Sarayburnu
If it's evening, if it's September, if I'm wet
If you saw me, maybe you wouldn't understand
You sigh and cry in secret
If I'm alone, if I'm wrong
Take my hand, or I'll fall
The rain will take me away

September Poetry Cemal Süreya

Cemal Süreya, it was September

Leaves falling from the branches
I wrote your name on your yellowing sides
You were just a fake smile.
And you never knew the coldness of my hands.
It was September.

It was a past tense
That's why our steps were short
That's why my eyes were still.
Yellow hot sentences lie as much as your word,
As desolate as your hands,
I was taking breaks as untimely as you
And our sadness was childish selfishness.
It was September.

Your sudden departure when it left its traces,
Now there was no point in silence.
I'm naked in the middle of your silence.
Then I walked for a while on the edge of cliffs that did not echo my voice
I searched for his voice the most.
And your eyes were still where you left them hanging.
When he wiped his eyes..
I told you... It was September.
That's why our desolation.

İlhan Berk, Otağ

Darling, it's September
And here is your face twitching softly.

Time is eternal
Like unfinished poems.

Some sadness
It is like holding some rivers and telling them.

We have lived time in quotation marks
(On the blurry shore of desire).

Isn't that why we love
There is always the evening blues.

Umit Yasar Oguzcan, I September, You June

It was a September that started in me
The trees had shed their leaves
The grass was yellow
All the flowers had faded
Dark clouds covered the sky
Qatar was going away birds were going away
The wind was blowing like crazy
Whatever was left of summer was scattered
Spring was like an unlived season
What was he once
I've loved, I've been loved
What was all that heyhey, all that madness?
What is this resignation to fate
What is this heart made red with pain
What this dried river; my tears
What is this knee-deep darkness in front of me
Neither this pile of ashes behind me; my fifty years
You got me bad, June.
To my sad, broken end of September
You brought a first summer freshness
With your blue sky
With your sun that makes life alive
You entered me with your sparkling vast sea
Flowers bloomed that you touched
The grass has grown where you walk
And the roses are multiplied where you laugh
Your birds are flapping their wings over my head
From the weight of the nuts you made
My branches touch the ground
Before the sun sets on your hair
A full moon rises from your gaze
A breeze blows from you all day long on my burning forehead
My sleepless nights are bright with you
I'm dizzy, oh I'm dizzy from living
I can die now
If you say don't die; then don't go, stay
Hold me tight, be my skin, don't leave me
Look; my fingertips are on fire
Lava gushes from my pupils
Come on, hold my hands, burn with me
Challenge every despair with me
Sleep with me, wake up with me
Let's reach the thirteenth months together

Ataol Behramoğlu, The Coolness of September Morning

The coolness of a September morning
The coolness of the leaves
I fill my lungs
Silence and coolness
Washed pigeons
And far away the sound of a train
The feeling of always starting again
It's born in me
Every time I wake up
I forgive my enemies
I love my friends more
Every time I wake up
The coolness of a September morning
The coolness of the leaves
I fill my heart

Hasan Basri Ünlü, September Women

I was closed in the verses of a silent September
I cried silently, scratching my aches and pains
Scrape the dust of all time from my fortune
Washed, cleansed, I thought I was cleansed

Which one of you is holding my way when I say I'm saved
How much of you is mine and how much is not

Let's compete, you say rudely. Which one of us
First we will forget, leaning on a tired September
That's why I'm attacking our memory.
I'm scraping away the old once again

But which one of you still buries stirrings in my skin
Which one of you is driving these fires into my dreams

Lakes evaporate from my eyes for no reason
Inside me the river is disturbing its bed... September September
My walls are crumbling with years of deprivation

My lost loves, my former women, my woes
You pawned your old ones on me and left.
Stabbing me in the back in the steps I take to forget
Which one of you is the owner of September smelling deaths

Ahmet Altan, September

This September will kill me
As poisonous as love, as beautiful as a whore.
As fluid as adulterous beds, as sad as abandonments.
Morning coolness; bringing news of a new love
As creepy as the vintage-colored breath of ancient Greek deities.
The midday sun is as hot as bunches of grapes.
Evening winds are as sensual as a whip touching the skin.
I wait for death and love in this month every year.

And I leave a writing on the bare feet of September.
September mornings; with their glow as sharp as swords
He wakes me up bleeding my skin.
I'm off to September.
I flow like a sadness, like a love that bleeds into September,
I flow like a young death, dressed in black shawls.
I flow into September by making love, crying and dying.
Every year, always at the same time, like a wide river
It comes washing all life in its clear waters,
Taking me and everything into his bosom,
He always takes it to an unknown place, breastfeeding it with his sadness.
I love women and sadness in September

Violin concertos,
Smoldering red with a fire of light in the evening
I like lonely trees, timid smiles and dirty laughter.
A dark blue sea plays in my hands.
The beaches are left to themselves like an old woman
Songs promise pain in thin wrappings to every listener
September is where the end touches the beginning...

That's why it smells of burning incense,
That's why it bleeds where it touches.
Love in September, pain in September, loneliness in September is hard,
Everything is hard in September, that's why I love September.
Naked souls bathe in the September light
Everyone opens the door to everything and 'familiarity becomes love'.
Death touches its curly hair to the breast of life.
I always wait for love and death in this month.
How sad and how threatening.
I fear all love and women in September...

Every year I dedicate a summer to the bare feet of September.
And I flow into September
I flow into September like a sadness,
I flow like a bleeding love,
I flow like a young death dressed in black shawls...