Pumpkins
- Creative Writing to Inspire -Â
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The pumpkin bathed in the late autumn sun, hugged in gentle light. Her seed constellation was ensconced within: growing, maturing. She dreamed of their spring leaves, of fragile roots that would become strong. As days summed to months, as the ambient air sighed to a wintry coolness, the leaves fell to become her bonny blanket: browns, rosy pinks and golds. The air carried the aroma of recent rain and earthy loam: comforting, serene. All the while she remained, patient, content and with an optimistic soul. Snow came and went, for a month or more none could see her, and at the thaw, she was no more. Yet her dream, her constellation, they were the stars of that field and the merriment of the coming autumn days, and the beginnings of countless seed constellations.
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Pumpkins
Inspiring Creative Writing!Â
A pumpkin sun pride-inhaled the sweet autumnal air. To the observant eye it did swell full-large. Its rays were radiant smiles indeed, alighting as golden butterflies that believed us the best of blooms. What would the red-gold leaves be without its blessed light? How could they be painted so gay, so warm, so bright? Early though it was, the day opened up as a highway heading beyond sunset and starry night.
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PumpkinÂ
The Jack-o-Lantern--- Descriptionari.com ---
I have a magic jack-o-lantern, it has a secret core. It shines in every gale, laughs at hurricanes and more. It has a secret you see, one I will tell you now. No candle does it hold. No feeble flame doth it cradle. ‘Twas never lit by a simple match. A star simply flew in from the night sky and nestled there within. The impossible was rendered possible upon angelic whim. Long after November had passed, and every All Hallows after, the lantern remained as fresh as the day it was created.
--- Creative Writing on all things Pumpkin Inspired by Angela Abraham ---
The pumpkin bathed in the late autumn sun, hugged in gentle light. Her seed constellation was ensconced within: growing, maturing. She dreamed of their spring leaves, of fragile roots that would become strong. As days summed to months, as the ambient air sighed to a wintry coolness, the leaves fell to become her bonny blanket: browns, rosy pinks and golds. The air carried the aroma of recent rain and earthy loam: comforting, serene. All the while she remained, patient, content and with an optimistic soul. Snow came and went, for a month or more none could see her, and at the thaw, she was no more. Yet her dream, her constellation, they were the stars of that field and the merriment of the coming autumn days, and the beginnings of countless seed constellations.
September 22, 2025.
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A pumpkin sun pride-inhaled the sweet autumnal air. To the observant eye it did swell full-large. Its rays were radiant smiles indeed, alighting as golden butterflies that believed us the best of blooms. What would the red-gold leaves be without its blessed light? How could they be painted so gay, so warm, so bright? Early though it was, the day opened up as a highway heading beyond sunset and starry night.
25 April, 2025.
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Rose and gold fluttered down amid eventide’s car glow, reflecting headlamps approach, reflecting in tail lights homeward bound. It was autumn in the city, when country pumpkins filled the stores, when cooler nights brought out woollen hats, and rain conjured umbrellas, such light rain as transitory freckle-stars painting puddles all around.
September 18, 2025.
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I have a magic jack-o-lantern, it has a secret core. It shines in every gale, laughs at hurricanes and more. It has a secret you see, one I will tell you now. No candle does it hold. No feeble flame doth it cradle. ‘Twas never lit by a simple match. A star simply flew in from the night sky and nestled there within. The impossible was rendered possible upon angelic whim. Long after November had passed, and every All Hallows after, the lantern remained as fresh as the day it was created.
October 28, 2025.
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--- Creative Writing Inspired by Pumpkins by Angela Abraham ---