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Summer Nature Poems | Nature Poems About Summer

These Summer Nature poems are examples of Nature poems about Summer. These are the best examples of Summer Nature poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Sonnet |

Gentle Summer Rain Art

Featuring:)  Giorgio Veneto

She writes about Fall's beauty in the rain 
The falling raindrops' dance ascribing thence 
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain 
before the time they met - her steps commence. 

She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum, 
her love turned to escape and cloudy string 
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become 
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring. 

The first light cotton mists with summer rays 
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land, 
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays, 
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand. 

Upon September's sky the raindrops gleam 
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.

Enjoy the FRAGRANCE OF RAIN

--------- 
FRAGRANCE OF RAIN 
8/29/13 
Sonnet 
---------

~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~


Details | Blank verse |

Septembe Blues

September, you are a wistful song
Summer sheds a tear when you come along
Sunny summer melodies yield to your mellow song
Its melody fades while yours grow strong

Summer ends and a certain sadness ensues
Sunny days make way for winter blues
September gives us glimpses of summer
Though days be short and golden leaves slumber

The vibrant colors September brings
disguise the coming winter sting
As summer dies it makes one last sunny stand
But will return, for thats how it was planned

Until then we must endure a harsh season
All bundled up, keeping warm is the reason
When the first snow  falls
The pristine beauty leaves us enthralled

Soon summer will begin anew
Gray clouds make way for skies of blue
We awaken from our winter slumber
And welcome the butterflies of summer

For Joanne Grisetti's Copy Cat contest

:Inspired by the poem: September
Which was written by: Andrea Dietrich



















Details | Rhyme |

Seasons to wonder

All the evergreens are greener
And the pines are darker skinned
Only leaves that bear the burn marks 
Are the witnesses of wind.

On the grass the dew is frozen
In a spiders web of white
And the cold that bites my fingers
Makes me wonder as I write.

How did winter come so swiftly
How did summer die so fast
Where’s the grave, where was the battle
Are they all buried in the past?

Now I feel the winter nibble 
On my fingers with its frost
And the wind that it has summoned
Mourns for seasons that are lost.

Was it but one dusk, one daybreak
Was it only in a blink?
For the summer was my feather
Now the winter is my ink.

How did shadows shift so quickly
How did colours change so much
As reflections in the water
That simply vanish with a touch?

Now the daffodils are rising
Yet the jasmine blooms are gone
Now the evergreens are greener
And the frost adorns the dawn.

Yes, how strange it is to wonder
So I wonder as I write
What if winter should then also
Simply vanish in the night?

I dedicate this poem (and I'm not being sarcastic or exaggerating)
to my mentor and my friend Timothy Brumley, who taught me 
the art of rhythm, showed me the advantage of counting my syllables, 
raised my goal from acceptable to perfection,
and helped me to turn my nursery rhymes into poetry. 
(and no Tim don’t protest, they really were nursery rhymes) 


Details | Quatrain |

Summer Nights

The smell of the summer night air 
Takes me back to times we shared
You and I dancing beneath the moon
Crickets playing a lovers tune

Trees full with lush green leaves
Whispering poetry to you and me
A view from beneath a Missouri bluff
Talking of passion, love, and lust

Your hand in mine strolling the path
Sitting on the deck and looking back
Picnic tables and barbecue grills
Driving and parking, is this for real?

My memory’s filled with your sweet love
Do you remember that snow white dove?
A kiss goodnight under a star filled sky
Best friends forever, a promise, no lie

It excites me to think that every year
Whether life or memory I return here
We will create magic again I know
On a summer night in the moon’s soft glow

 
Copyright © 2009 Lena “Lolita” Townsend





*inspired by John Heck’s “Summer Celebration” contest


Details | Personification |

A summer evening

A summer evening

The senile sun still
burned us with the foul intent 
Of its mid day  rage
But, lacking in bite, gave in
Quickly to the taunts of breeze.

It tottered about
In the beach, ran its weak hands
Over wheat fields and
Rested awhile atop the
Banyan’s crown and went to sleep.

8th Dec 12.
Form: Personification in TANKA ( Sylls: 5-7-5-7-7)

By S.Jagathsimhan Nair
For: Giorgio's 'Impress me-3'
Motif: Nature


Details | Alliteration |

The Butterfly Flutters By

The Butterfly Flutters By
On a steamy, sun-drenched, summer Sunday, Tree leaves delightfully dancing to the tune of A warm, welcoming, wandering breeze blowing, Metamorphosis now complete, no memory of being yesterday’s creeping caterpillar, The butterfly flutters by.
Blatantly, brazenly, boastfully, Showing off beautiful, brilliant, blue-black and brown wings, Gracefully gliding through a breathtaking, glorious garden, The butterfly shyly pitches from blushing, boldly-colored, buds to fragrant flowers, Cunningly outmaneuvering a competing, hovering hummingbird.
Slyly snatching a satisfying taste of tantalizing, syrupy, sweet nectar From attention-craving, Golden Flame Honeysuckle vines, The butterfly flutters by Cheerfully and completely satiated - Perhaps, already dreaming about tomorrow’s anticipated sugary feast!
Entered in a contest "The Butterfly Flutters By" sponsored by Kelly Deschler (6-3-2014)


Details | Lyric |

The Old Homestead

Orphaned footsteps round the old place.
Pitch black soil, packed deep with bartered
coin and Indian heads – wood and otherwise,

coat her worn leather shoes, Hutterite chic. 
The long land screams within its own silence.
Prairie sage burns somewhere, a ghostly smudge

for the undulating grass and, those it serves.
Its alive scent makes the dead turn towards 
its head - and the barely living turn to listen. 

The impossibly endless horizon holds its bright 
blue at bay, begging acknowledgement for 
its self-professed being and looming enormity.

She looks at the broken window glass and 
through the tattered, delicate gray lace. “Those 
were hers.” She whispers to the one who listens. 

This great-great-granddaughter sees the curtains 
as they once were – wistful in the hot Manitoba 
wind; fresh and lowing with the honest elemental 

scent of aspens, hope and bare-knuckle wash boards; 
always fresh; shifting in the cry for solace in summer 
shadows – never as still as this moments endlessness.

Blowing through the deep brown of splintered pine 
front doors; cracking the announcement of cast iron, 
rot and burnt wood comes the simple statement of – 

I lived. This mother of five young does not cry, 
just yearns to walk in the old ones footsteps;
to know them loved; hear the birdsong through

unbroken bedroom windows for a 5am waking; 
feel the resistance of dough on fingers that beg 
to be broken, and kiss the twisting undead, living. 


The burning of the noonday sun taps her whole,
marking; branding her pale Swedish skin its own.
The red sting of burnt breaks her inward silence, 

welcoming her familiar face home.




© Kristin Reynolds 3 29 2009

*Reposted for John's Summer Celebration Contest. This is a personal celebration; 
celebrating and honoring my great grandparents who settled in Manitoba after leaving 
Sweden and Denmark. This celebrates the summer of family, at least for me. We went there 
every summer until it was gone...


Details | Personification |

As Lovers Go

When Summer starts her transitory reign, King Sun, her beau, has steadily ascended, brightening a sky that, for a time, shall be his lovely mistress’ domain. He reaches out his welcoming warm rays across the span of Summer’s first official day, lengthening them just as far as he is allowed so he may well receive his paramour, enveloping her in the fullest of his golden grand embraces. But when night descends, Sun’s power wanes. His wife, a goddess, the fair and steadfast Luna, arrives to spell her king, along with her attendants, a host of radiant stars. Meanwhile, Mistress Summer softly slumbers, faintly breathing out the warmth that Sun has wrapped her in. So even in the dark’s coolness, she prevails. In the dewy dawn, when she awakes, Summer sees the beauty of her lover’s light and eagerly, she spurs her King Sun on. No two were ever so well-matched as these, for both heat up the days with their consuming ardor till the time of the equinox when Summer is exiled for nine months, to have her rebirth in the following year. And year after year, for what could be eternity, Sun bides his time, for he has many lovers. . . But as lovers go, it’s Summer who’s most expert at inciting the passion in his soul. by andrea dietrich/ Motif is nature. Also romance For the Impress Me Contest III of Giorgio V.


Details | Free verse |

Reflections When The Summer Breathes

I remember that day As clear as the crystal springs in June When the sun rose upon a gladsome sky Bursting through the harbor and the fields As soft as the buds by the quivering dew Dancing in the blue distance. Summer's warm and scented breath Invaded the clustered pathway Where the last mountain spray Descended in your eyes Like a constant burning fire That glimmers like fulgent streams of spring. You held a delicate rose In your limpid hands kissed by the Vast fountains of purity's grace That greeted my eyes with coy beauty When the day was ripe with glory . Like a flower you blossomed in my eyes As one who held heaven in her smile And sweet rosebuds on her lips That trembles in the cold With a budding joy as new as the moon In the fullness of the night. You drew a few words from your sad breath That pierced like a striking sword When the voice of the wind echoed Through the lilac vines Entangled on the weeping trees That nods in the noonday light In the last breath of summer. My soul sank in dejection Wet with despair. Anguish flashing in my aching heart Like an untamed madness On this boundless land . Oh please don't leave my love Oh please don't leave my love Because if you do The mortal fire in my veins Would extinguish My breath would mute And my lifeless body Would drift me to some unknown hell To live forever In a helpless state of deep despair In a desolate darkness Of utter hopelessness!


Details | Italian Sonnet |

Summer Lover

Oh, summer sun, all winter I have missed
your stale hot breath upon my upturned face;
your tongue that seers my flesh as I unlace
the strings on my bikini. I am kissed
by sultry lips that burn. I can’t resist!
I bask in light of day, and I embrace
Your penetrating rays that find each space
of skin exposed. I wait and plan my tryst.
And when you come, I’ll reverence you once more,
supine, as you would have me, to receive
your torrid touch as token of your lust.
In June we’ll meet as always by the lakeshore.
I should not go.  So well you can deceive.
Some lovers you have killed! Yet still I trust. . .

*For A Rambling Poet's Scavenger Hunt Contest
This poem emulates the lovely haiku called
"dappled sun," (6/9) and also it is a love poem 
for summer much like Constance's Senryu 
"Winter Love" is her love affair with winter.


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