Thank you for supporting my books this year. It's so appreciated. Every year October goes by so fast, yet luckily, I still find time to enjoy the changing colors and autumn light. I never tire of it. I hope you have time to enjoy it too!
Please have a safe and wonderful holiday season ahead. I’m sending peace, positivity, and of course, love your way....
Jan 🧡
I just have to share this perfect for a dark October night movie! It’s titled, Another Man’s Poison and is a British crime drama from 1951. It stars Bette Davis, Gary Merrill, and Emlyn Williams. Davis plays a writer, Janet, who kills her husband. And yes, it involves poison. Of course I recommend!
Full Movie:
https://youtu.be/A1PespZ-Hgw?si=6SJq89aHjr7B38Bi
My book Autumn Poetry: A Collection for the Season was one of ten books recommended (poetry & drama category) by Mika Ellison, October 1, 2025 at Bookstr - Gorgeous, Seasonal Poetry for a Wonderful Fall Transition. Click the link below to read about all of her poetry recommendations for autumn. I am honored that she recommended my book. Just incredibly honored!
https://bookstr.com/list/gorgeous-seasonal-poetry-for-a-wonderful-fall-transition/
Oh she is a trouble
With her arrival unannounced
Always early never late, perhaps an August Date.
She cools the summer engines
And grinds them to a halt,
Steadfast held tight, then starts her work in sight.
Her dry boned finger first
Waves the woods to fire
Tawny yellows, Crimson reds, a siren song of what lies ahead.
And summer attempts to persuade her
Driving hard precipitation
But autumn has gone and striped her breath, a kiss of death.
In skies the Great Geese gather
In V synchronicities
While on their backs Hummers hitch, hidden from the Autumn Witch.
Hawkweed hurry
Show your face
For Fireweed and Queen Anne's Lace and Pearly Everlasting.
We must invade her might
We cry out - stop!
With Mullein sticks ablaze we will make again summer days!
But she is well seasoned
In control of her time
And with adieu the locals tell, she will cast her autumn spell.
(C) Paul James. 2009
There wasn’t much to
say. I mean, no one wanted to talk about Frances Howard’s murder, so we walked
in silence. Up ahead past the curve someone smashed a pumpkin against a tree.
They said there was
nothing Frances could do when the murderer came to her house. She was old and
couldn’t get out of bed. But no one thought she would die like that. Her eyes
carved into a permanent expression of fear.
And now, we had the
fear. Everyone did.
When we got to the
other side of the woods we saw the road ahead. A slender man with a razor smile
stepped out onto our path.
We trembled.
“Even the young can
never escape,” he said, his black eyes biting our cheeks. Then he handed us a
picture.
It was of Frances
Howard. Dead.
We shoved our way
past him and ran out to the road. We didn’t stop running until we got to town.
It was hard for us to catch our breath.
Then we looked at
the picture again.
And it was a picture
of us. In the woods.
Originally published by Black Poppy Review, October 2021. (This story is included in The Blue Hour – available on Amazon)
born of
yellow plume
and dread
drown the spider
and the web
pour the Sulphur
into night
purge the lost
waif
burn the blight..
