These Summer Death poems are examples of Death poems about Summer. These are the best examples of Summer Death poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
The Daffodil, peeks at the yellow rays of the Morning Sun
She raises her head :through the withering snow mound : with Dazzling Beauty
The Daffodil , Sings in harmony; Arise for I am : the Spring
The Golden weed, the Dandelion , reflects the yellow Halo Floating in the Sky
Knowing Life is short ,the Dandelion dots the Summer landscape
With Her Halo turning White, She calls the Wind and flies through the rays of the Sun
Goldenrod waits until summer is nigh o’er before waving elegantly
To the Yellow orb, warming her roots, She melodiously Sings Forever be Your Glory
The Goldenrod , humbly Hums Hymns : to the very Eye of a Loving GOD
Yellow Roses speak of the Memories : “watching the grass “Sportsman’s WAVE””
She sees the Glory of Nature : more Beautiful with each Magnificent : Sunrise
Yellow Roses, petals so Silky Soft, holding in “ Remembrance “ a long Lost “ LOVE “
The “ AquaRose “ that Grows, in the deep Caribbean Sea “4 miles North of Aruba”
Screams For the Sun, from her watery Grave, Yet she shines in a sea of “ Sapphire
" Blue "
The Depth of the “Blue sea, the Blue Sky above” Shadow the glow of Sweet
" Sunshine "
Inspired by the Contest : " Flowers " : Sponsored by Francine Roberts
Dedicated To my LOVES : " Barbara Jean " & " Lenore Ellen "
Author's Note : I Hope this is Read the way it was Written
YOUR Liege ALWAYS, LOVE : HGarvey Daniel Esquire
7th Place win
it’s always august’s end
that bothers me the most
i feel that brush of cool air
press against me
like a kiss on dead lips
the trees are now painted
a sunset’s reflection
but all i see is red
in summer’s end
the leaves dance gracefully
beneath the winds
one last time
before they fall
the trees will soon stand
blank of life
like you and you and you
and my mind
as i remember
as i watched them
fall from life
amongst summer’s end
WATCHING A SUMMER STORM IN DOYLESTOWN
I was laid to rest,
my death keeps getting better.
If you find me here, you know, I'm yours to keep.
I could try to say
I love you in this letter,
or pretending you are here, sing you to sleep.
If the world was mine,
I find it quite amusing,
I would give it all away, to see your eyes,
I would save your life,
and everything you're losing,
all because you never see who's telling lies.
I am just as dead
as is your heart each morning.
If the wind has blown, you know I will be there.
I will touch your life,
without much of a warning,
never look for me, just know I'm everywhere.
I'm a summer storm,
my hope is crashing thunder.
I'm a lightning bolt, my love is five alarm.
if I rain all night,
it's just a spell I'm under,
you should know I'm dead, and won't do any harm.
I'm a little boy.
An old man getting younger.
All I have is how I know how things should be.
We still want the world
to live in death and hunger,
yet I love your eyes, when your eyes look at me.
From bright colors even the brightest blond turns grey.
Grown men now stand.
Were once young children did play.
The once new cover.
Is now tattered and torn.
time has all but erased the oaths once proud men had sworn.
The field now overgrown still haunts memories of the blue and grey.
Old worn headstones markers of were they'll forever lay.
No bell to ring no voice shall call.
The ghosts of the past erased by spring summer and fall.
The old porch stands hidden by a overgrowth of vines.
Now blank are the boards that once were painted signs.
The blood followed swiftly from the wound of the past.
To forge a path to a time that could never last.
Gone is the tree that once stood so very tall.
Forgotten by time
So is the legend of spring summer and fall.
Shall I contend thee on a summer's day?
Thou art more vengeful and more aggressive.
Rough winds do shake the bleeding buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short to live.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven brands,
And often is his gold complexion grimmed;
And limit to the fear a mind withstands,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed.
i met you in the springtime when the flowers were in bloom
and i knew yyou were my angel when you walked into the room
i knew that god had sent you down on the wings of a big white dove
just to be with only me and tto bring angelic love
our hands were ever so entwined and united were our hearts
we knew that we would walk together until death did we part
when sprringtime turned to summer we were happy as could be
and i just could not imagine all the love you had for me
now when summer turned to autumn and we felt the gentle breeze
i was ever so elated because you were still with me
but the time has turned the pages and i am so all alone
today god sent other angels just to guide my angel home
'They' tell me, now,
A husky-mix dog won't stay.
Tie 'em up, pen 'em,
Or the neighbor's complain.
So, I didn't even Look for another Cain.
But let me tell you,
My Cain dog was Husky.
Silver and grey and a
'from the toenails' growl...
But HE stayed, no chains.
Small town, Oklahoma, no leash.
Everybody knows everybody; me and Cain,
Bicycle riding, summer days.
Grandma Dugan waving,
Mr. John Long tossing out soup bones,
"Yonder's thet Earli and her dawg."
"Boy! Pur-D-hot! Wisht'id rain."
"Wonder whar she's going 'ta noon?"
Nap, doze, one more summer gone...
But...so was Cain.
"Hey Earlie? Thet you, girl?"
"Whar's thet big white dawg?"
"Oh yeah?" "Too bad." and "How'd he die?"
"You don't hardly seem like Earli,
Without thet white dog, Cain."
Ten long, hard years and lots of road.
But no white dog's shoulders
To share the good times...or the pain,
And...I don't hardly FEEL like Earli,
Without my white dog, Cain.
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.
21 February 2013
Oh, tragic feather what is thy tragedy
No longer freedom gay or certian loft
How is this thy new translation
From a majesty, unto a wing thou hath mighty dropped
Were thou thus, shunned, cast away
Or merely, cut out or off
As limb from downward spiral angel
Perhaps, a troubled finch or insanity in wayward hawk
Lie, if thou must, be it amidst a deafening silence, lonesome soft
But, I plead, please tell me fallen feather, what hath befallen thee
Thy tuft to ne’er evermore touch again
What life should be, warmth of the summer's breeze
Sleep, sleep now 'neath the alley's gutter greys
Catching Weeping Willows damning drops
Adrift as the drowning lily dying
In seas of the myriad scattered rots
An accomplice I shall say, within a winter's willing white
And alas, buried ordinary in this doth the corpse delight
Far beneath the crowds held at bay and forever lost
Now thou hath become the naked grove of wicker and then...
the more of naked souless crops
If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.