These Seasons Sonnet poems are examples of Sonnet poems about Seasons. These are the best examples of Seasons Sonnet poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
I know it's there somewhere beyond the clouds,
Beyond the snow which slowly falls and falls;
The babes of summer covered like a shroud
And arborvitae's shoulders like a shawl.
A mellow hint of yellow somewhere dawns
And splashes through the trees its hopeful rays.
The golden glow in morning skies adorn
Horizon's clouds in colorful array.
Hues that lift the heart when winter goes;
When rapeseed blossoms smile back at the sun;
When white and pink and blue put on a show,
Through fields of green and yellow we will run.
Sunflowers stand and bow in prayerful hush
Like inspiration born from Vincent's brush.
Feb. 13, 2014
November was not all that bad. We had
Thanksgiving feasts and very little snow.
The Yuletide season came. Since it was glad,
I felt so sad to see December go.
But January so far we have seen
cars sliding off the roads and freezing cold.
Blue skies I need and white replaced by green
and sunshine spilling onto fields like gold.
But Winter still persists. Up and about,
he's freezing pipes, car engines and my toes!
That old cold man has worn his welcome out.
And next month's Valentines? Well, who needs those?
It's Goddess Spring that I am waiting on.
Why hang around, old Winter? Just begone!
Written 1/19/13 For the Winter Begone Poetry Contest
of Francine Roberts
It was the first part of September
As the leaves were just starting to turn
The bonfire shrank to just one ember
A fearful forecast she would discern
Yes, the hurricane season lived on
Although the seas were starting to cool
Bounty of trees now plucked – pecan
As children made their way back to school
Indian Summer brought such sad news
A woman still in her autumn years
Struggled from her eyes, tears to excuse
She had to face the greatest of fears
The doctor offered no hope for her
Would this month be her last September?
*Entry for Brian’s September Contest
Lost loons sulk in song, their search for meaning
sends us to sleep. The park holds a stillness,
but I dream of winds, ardent pines leaning
towards waves, soothing the lake’s brokenness.
Morning pulls us and from our tent we crawl,
hailed by dawn’s parting, greeted by pale mist.
While coffee perks on the campfire, I’ll
put my head on your shoulder, find your kiss
is as smoky as the breakfast you fry.
Later, we explore the mossy woodlands
and stray from the path, surrender to sighs
shading the forest floor, under the span
of birch. Night falls and winks to wet lovers
who roll in stars then rock moonlit waters.
About this poem
This is a modern sonnet. It uses off rhyme, unusual punctuation placement and contains plenty of enjambment that extends past the usual insular quatrains.
Killbear park is a provincial park in Ontario. Its sites are quite... private ;-)
It''s great to see the leaves again
To see the flowers grow
Spring excites me so
I love the freshness of the rain
I can shake off winter's aches and pains
As I listen to the March winds blow
Spring is a wonderful time I know
Spring is here to keep me sane
Now I hear the red robin chirp
I see the sun shining bright
I want to play and not work
Out in the pretty sunlight
Where life is new and pure
I love Spring of that I'm sure!
Lady Autumn’s Ball
Here ye, Hear ye, tis time for Lady Autumn’s ball
Tis the best time for late season romance
Come everyone, enjoy the dance
Autumn’s colors deck the halls
Listen for Love’s eternal mating call
Love is born from a single glance
Emotions of the heart are enhanced
As they two, walk down the promenade
Lady Autumn is bedecked in her finest gown
Colors so vivid can nowhere be found
Hear Ye, Hear Ye, tis time for Lady Autumn’s ball
Come, everyone, enjoy the dance
Listen for love’s eternal mating call
Emotions of the heart are enhanced
Unimaginable design begins, in such a quiet fashion.
Just a hint appears, shaded, quivering upon limbs.
Which spread quickly, Mother Nature’s chilling whims.
Delightful colors explode, over hillsides, with passion.
Delivering sweet, falling spectacles, spreading compassion,
Blanketing countryside with color before each one dims.
Spreading stories, beautifully creating, countryside hymns,
They fade, slightly ashen, to prepare a winter ration.
Autumn season has the ability, to slow time down.
Allowing hearts, that see, to enjoy everlasting hue,
Dropping their worries, taking away any frown.
What a glorious season, that bids warmth, adieu.
True cascades, bright and cheery as a carnival clown.
Just stop, look around your neighborhood, for this view.
the magnificent autumn-sun bursts at its seams
the icy october-wind blows her soft-cold breeze
one of the most impressive and mesmerizing teams
stumbling over each other making me warm and freeze
fragrances of fresh grass mowed for the last time this year
the muted-green foliage whispers with leaves drying out
the hidden dark-red blackberries wither behind protective thorns of fear
the last flight of geese flying over another scout
rare but visible some glorious leaves of gold
the cloudless sky colors the very rare whiter shade of blue
the bike trail I'am on partly covered with wet leaf mold
the passing summer is now really saying adieu
while the wintery wind and summer-sun bicker for attention
I'm overwhelmed by this whiter shade of blue's fourth dimension
Procol harum's "Whiter shade of pale"(I am that old- or young?) is on of the songs on my list of most played songs on my mp3-player.. when hearing this song on a sunny autumnal day I was inspired to add my color to the palet.......... I saw a new'kind of blue and wrote this poem..
The caramel leaves seem to fall from sky
In waves, as zephyr sings through chimes and eaves
Its song that whispers a fall lullaby
As a gentle rustling wind through autumn leaves
September a time to slow down, be still
Slowly now we have less light_ more dark
A drawing to home and hearth seems our will
Beckoning to fill with bounty our hearts
Caramel sauce for those crisp apples near
The heat of summer is in distant past
None of that snow of winter yet to fear
Watering chores of summer now are past
All things for coming winter out in place
Now one can slow to a snail's simple pace
In honor of Brian Strand's contest...
Click on"About That Poem"
Each summer - hurrah! We got out of school.
How much we could do outdoors to have fun.
Kickball we’d play; we’d ride bikes to the pool.
We’d spend nearly all our time in the sun.
Night time would find us outside our homes too
with siblings or with the neighborhood throng.
Sun lingered and there was still much to do
as evenings grew cool and shadows grew long. . . .
And just before dark enveloped the day,
something would come that enthralled me the most -
small creatures that flitted every which way -
each blinking, then vanishing like a ghost.
I miss seeing fireflies, for it was grand
to catch and then hold one inside my hand.
Written Aug. 29, 2012