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Seasons On Writing And Words Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Seasons

These Seasons On Writing And Words poems are examples of On Writing And Words poems about Seasons. These are the best examples of Seasons On Writing And Words poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Haiku |

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

Now my tendrilled soul,
Has found its pergola-- Christ--
To wind its way up....


Details | Epic |

Pledge of love and loyalty

This pledge that l,Ntando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed l am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only lie
in word alone but in action as well.

For that reason in every season
I shall show steadfast commitment
to the implementation of this pledge
with a great deal of astuteness.
I therefore commit myself to be your
devoted and delivering husband for
all the years l shall live with you
on this earth.

I shall treat you with the love and care
you deserve as my wife.
Indeed l shall treat you with
the distinction and dignity
that is befitting of the queen of my heart.
That body, that bone, that breath
shall be my mine to treasure,
for sure;
a dearness to promote and protect
for dear life…and love!
I shall stand by and with you in all the
situations of our life.
If the situation demands that we sail,
sail we shall together.
If the situation demands that we
climb,
climb we shall together.

I know very well what l am getting into:
I am getting into a marriage that is
overflowing with blessings.
This marriage- with our mutual
commitment-
will stand the test of time.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
brims over with a transforming power
of love.

This marriage-with our
mutual commitment –
will transform naivety into maturity
troubles into challenges
pretence into practice
pride into progress
bachelorship into companionship.
I pledge to be your steward and partner
for all times.

I shall value the consultations
and decisions that we make as
husband and wife.
As head of the family I shall do nothing

 

to derail our love train for anything else
least of all for personal and selfish reasons.
Now and forever

I am your lawful and loving husband…
This pledge that l, Nothando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed I am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only
lie in pronouncements but in practice
as well.

For this reason every season
I shall demonstrate untiring love
and loyalty to you;
a love and a loyalty that is a living
embodiment of our marriage vows.
I therefore commit myself to be your
honouring, supportive and loving wife
for all the years l shall live with you.
I shall treat you with the love and care
that you deserve as my husband.
Indeed I shall treat you with
the dignity and nobility that is befitting
of the king of my heart.
On my mind it is always fresh
that I am the flesh of your flesh.
Green or grown

I am the bone of your bone.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
elevates me into a kingdom of wifehood.
I shall endevour to put my family first
with all the rights, obligations
and privileges that come with wifehood.
I shall endevour to wipe off and ward off
loneliness and lostness from our relationship,
seeking nothing but your companionship;
banking on your stewardship,
sinking together any hardship.
Since you are mine
I shall not do anything else to undermine
our relationship for personal
or egotistical
reasons.
Now and forever
I am your lawful and loving wife…


Details | Verse |

Beach Poet

Arm over arm, I glide my body through 
warm, glistening water near the beach. No
harm can come here; Sun’s my lucky
charm; my skin and hair are soaking in its glow!

When I go back to my towel, I sink
ten toes into the sand, warm summer bliss.
Then I grab my bag, and I pull out
pen and paper, best tools for a day just like this!

For Rick Parise's Lento Poetry Contest


Details | Free verse |

in the farmer's song

so, i got to thinking
about all those words
planted in my language
where fertility grew them
to leave and stalk and pod

the farmer's words scatter
my fields like seed on clod
watered by thundering flashes
awash, fertilized and germinating

progeny seedlings, my own growth
in some time-lapse photography
writhing their creamy roots
into earthy loam and droning
on through a summer daze

into fruits of sweaty labors 
on humid chlorophylled days
silks sultry green, stalking me
through rows and rows as far
as i can see, if i squint

the farmer, suspended in time
stands with his hands in pocket
or on some implement toed to soil
and surveys life's prospects 
for this season, before the

days bake the green back into 
the humus and the cornucopia 
spills the field and orchard
this verse of the farmer's song
picked and stowed away cool

eyes closed now, ears gently
strain to hear, worldly phrasing
come from where? my larder
or some ancestor gleaning meaning
and dropping it into her apron

to carry home to hungry minds
to feed them something of today
and sustain them through a fallow
solstice and the chilled breeze

any cultivation harvested over
picked clean and harrowed flat
nearly time to plow it under again
while the farmer gazes the horizon
and sips something in his cup

© Goode Guy 2011-08-22


Details | Rondeau |

THIS MISTY RAIN



This misty rain dampens my pen,
so I envision a small glen
with a cottage of ancient stone
that for one day is mine alone...
then lock myself within its den.

I nestle deep, a sheltered wren,
The pane weeps again and again,
But every stanza will atone
this misty rain.

Oh, this modern scribe has read when
springtime showers would enlighten
dark inked quills as drummed roofs would moan
and showers meant a verse to hone...
Poe and I, we have both ridden
this misty rain.




*Inspired by Francine's contest, but not entered.







Details | Narrative |

BEFORE SPRING CAME

Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    



Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...



After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
 


Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  


My theme is: Happiness In Childhood


Details | Fibonacci |

Her Poet



If 
I 
Should be
Your poet,
In thy garden, let 
My muses, as I do now, spell 
For thee, the sweet honey of spring where I humbly come.  


Details | Verse |

Describing Autumn

There are only so many shades of turning leaves, so many berry-stained skies to describe before the hues merge and burn through. Only so many times I can wax poetic on the waxed-wood sheen of horse chestnuts, only so many sun-dappled apple depictions. My lexicon trawls fall's lush colour spectrum hoping to harvest new autumn-rich words.


Details | Light Poetry |

FROM A SUMMER WINDOW

`   `   `   `   `   `   `   `   `  `
                     `   `   ` 


late dusk arrives again, sprawling… with acceptance ,a slide in my mind’s eyes opens as drips of words hold me captive beside the window---here, my inner senses break free from lost summer ties : the heart is still and my body tingles with some kind of need to etch the whispers brushing against a winding pen. And i reach for phrases like a musical recital of sweet alone time turning papers into rich soliloquy. My fevered hands begin to dance---and from the sill --- images of umbrellas flutter, while pastel vignettes of rain bathe on ledges in a café; I reach for what remains: this breath sipping the sounds of words wanting to be born. From my window, heated light filters through sparkling hooks and shingles as syllables spill and tumble into drafts of musings. In this special place, I allow this grace of surrender and charm to open my soul’s voice with a promise of what is meant to be. And now, tripping over slight pain, my pen slithers on the rims of my moonlit window pane --- as late dusk arrives again, gratitude sprawls into my 20-year old hands, ready to greet this grace from a summer window, half-healed, half-wise
(c) For Frank H's Summer Memory by: nette onclaud


Details | Couplet |

The Pleasure Has Been All Mine

<               I have dipped my pen in the sublime, it's my gift to you
                 Now use it wisely and write about some captioned caught views


                 thus that of an snow-capped mountain with an eagle that soars
                 or white sandy beaches where ribbed tides rolls back to it's shores

             
                 maybe stars and moon dance reflecting off stilled bay's port
                 in ones head you must determine choice of words to now sort


                 from beautiful to just pleasure does not hit it's mark
                 beneath recant memory that caused the ignited spark


                observer of denial you can not destroy ones voice
                within pens stroke there comes a poet with another choice


                seize the day and come bow to the chosen word of the day
                dont let an overpowering object just get away







Written By Katherine Stella  6/26/11

Entry For A Rambling Poet's

Writing In The Sublime


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