Oh I am but a simple leaf
withering within the gutter
one summer of bliss
now! Just an autumn flutter.
For some; destine to fall
upon stony ground, a part
of life’s infernal gyration.
Yet for those that fall
within your reach, to live
on within your soul!
While limbs that stretch
towards the solstice, create
vivacious veins as channels of hope,
a pledge of foliation continues
to endure what spring has
furnished; autumn expires.
Yes! If we can but learn
from nature’s complex simplicity,
that life be of a cycle
from the seed we are conceived,
then let spring be my beginning
winter my exultant eve!
Let our two cultures
merge as one, the
to become the sustenance;
our transfusion the
Let us breathe the
fragrance of born again;
let each slender limb,
stout body bear our
tenaciousness, each lyrical
leaf our life’s blood.
Let us mollycoddle each
precious tear that falls from a
angry sky; dance gracefully
upon the wind, embrace
on moonless nights, bathe
in summer madness.
Let us hear the bluebell call,
the daffodil pray, the apple
blossom bear witness; the
clamour of the field mouse
the pitapat of the butterfly
the silence of lovers in love.
Let us be sanctuary to the
symbolic songstress, scuttling
squirrel, vulgar urchin;
a fortress for the warrior
a haven for the pacifist
an inspiration for the poet!
The call of springtime
we will invoke,
we will gladly choke;
“This! Obliging old oak.”
Copyright Harry J Horsman 2000
autumn is here.
of the rain
and blossoms spring.
the snow shapes
the crisp cold
ices the wintertide.
the sand sculptures
a childhood summer past.
the seasonal airs
stimulates the senses
and the memories they carry.
in the glee,
in the hopes and dreams,
in the human spirit,
lives the miracle of life.
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
of echoes and whispers – uncut.
Any Old Poem Will Do - Contest
For Skat A
Entered: August 29 2014
Scrumptious sight of prairies and grass
Ardent beaming of flower buds and buzzing bees
Leafless coils, branches of trees become alive
Hastening! Arousing everyone's joy and vive
Everyone happy on cheerful springtime!
A cotillion trips and chirps of jolly birds
From some distance, I have started to heard
Fantastic shun and kisses of pretty butterflies
Tempting all species of flora and fauna to thrive
Welcoming, beckoning the heat of summertime!
First crisp of breeze, creating dew in morning
Canopy of red and orange leaves from branches, enchanting!
Turning the world into a canvass of nature's brush
Unnoticeable, such romantic dash making anyone blush
Revel, embrace the sweet amorous season of autumn!
Solid chilling raindrops of snowflakes
Giving warning: careful during breaks
Covering branches, bringing icy cold aches
Yet, skiing an exhilarating cool escape
Delight in the coolness ambiance of winter!
CONTEST: MEMORIES ON BRANCHES
SPONSOR: GAIL ANGEL DOYLE
below the boughs...
In winter’s white, as angels cry
for early spring to warm the wind,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned.
For early spring to warm the wind,
at Valentine’s romantic calls,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls.
At Valentine’s romantic calls,
rebirth of nature’s light divine,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls,
and blossoms pastel shades recline.
Rebirth of nature’s light divine,
when day equals the hours of night,
and blossoms pastel shades recline,
to hail the queen of May in light.
When day equals the hours of night,
a summer’s sun will come to play,
to hail the queen of May in light,
we chant and sing along the way.
A summer’s sun will come to play,
so life can grow as gods decreed,
we chant and sing along the way,
with warmth and light our hunger feed.
So life can grow as gods decreed,
the rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
with warmth and light our hunger feed,
the wealth of harvest is our own.
The rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
in autumn breeze that chills the heat,
the wealth of harvest is our own,
as gold and red belies our feet.
In autumn breeze that chills the heat,
a year that ends with blessed Samhain,
as gold and red belies our feet,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign.
A year that ends with blessed Samhain,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign,
in winter’s white, as angels cry.
You should have seen this tree before the winter came
Before the sun broke faith with its suckling leaves
Before the heavy ice of time sagged its limbs
Before its roots were singe in a frigid flame.
Did you know HG Daniel then, did you walk with him
Through spring and hear him sing of his king
Did he teach you "the elements of survival," when Eden
Closed its gate on us did he tell you its lore
And make you long for earth's long lost heaven
Though he struggles "not a man as before"?
I knew this tree when spring was a leaf of tongue
And poets sip the nectar of imagination young
I read him in rhyme and works of tribute
To fair Barbara and other members of the soup
Before the strokes, his loss of wife, and the loop
Of pall upon his hand with which he paint his love.
He is a noble tree, a great one in our forest of rhymes
A brother in arms of faith, a comrade, a friend
I send him prayers today, and wait for yours to come
This tree still from autumn mist a few fruit holds
Of friendship, love, and loyalty to the babbling scrolls.
Summer lies sleeping somewhere in fields of daisies
her warm breeze waltzes with each blade of grass
Autumn’s reclined wrapped within soft, cool mists
her nursery of seeds and parched leaves put to bed
Winter has awoken and rides the frigid northern winds
Ushering in a moment of slumber to proffer the circle of life
And... spring will come tomorrow, a new beginning to champion
When all asleep arise once more, with burst of colors everywhere!
Summer sunshine in her hair
The Autumn moon in her eyes
Winter’s promise buried there
Hints of Spring therein lies
The Autumn moon in her eyes
Winter’s snow upon her skin
The seeds of Spring wait to rise
To field the Summer once again
Winter’s snow upon her skin
Spring flowers to grace her face
Summer’s vow to come again
Until Autumn takes its place
Spring flowers to grace her face
Summer’s sunshine in her hair
Autumn hints leave bare a trace
That Winter’s cold will follow there
when winter comes and skeletons of trees
stand starkly upon the snow
i will think of you
and your head on my lap before the fireplace
skating on the gaunt, deep pond
where we made love on brighter days
hot chocolate and fired brandies
and standing at windows while flurries fell
when it is spring again and trees bear promises
as islands of snow die slowly in their shadows
i will think of you
when all was alive again and you believed in us
within the world of nest-making and streams going home
making bouquets of foothill flowers
constantly profaning the word “forever”
and imagining that winter was forever gone
when summer is upon me with sweltering wrath
i will come to the forest where we walked and
i will think of you
where we were prone beneath the well dressed limbs
in a canopy above us, fitted into one another like lovers
by the quarry lake where you were covered in beads of water
and the sun loved you and glistened upon your body
where i looked at you as one would view sunsets or miracles
autumn will come with all its dark omens and i will walk
upon the crisp leaves made spectacular by death
and i will think of you
where the earth wore its gaudy colors while ours had faded
into the murky hues of uneasiness and fear
and soon the trees will awaken alone and naked to the world
and i will understand their plight in a box called home
where once laughter lived and life was wonderful
there was a time before seasons and sentiment
when small, gentle hands covered my eyes with giggles
and you gasped, “oh, i’m sorry! i thought you were someone else!”
i smiled then and replied, “i am.”
it was the spring of us that led into the caldron of summer passion
before time and treasons took their toll
before reality and reason tore the glitter from our eyes
and our autumn came that condemned us to our winter
An old board and a rope had made me a swing,
Sitting there when I was around the age of nine,
I curiously looked up to see the first sign of spring,
Where a robin was building a nest of twigs entwined.
Summer's heat burned my shoulders, so I sought shade,
I climbed up into your strong arms at the age of fourteen,
Along with a book, I relaxed in a solitude no one could invade,
I found myself lost within the pages and the leaves of green.
On a lazy, autumn afternoon, at the age of twenty-three,
I raked the dead leaves that buried my feet into a pile,
Through the orange limbs my black cat peered down at me,
Then leapt from the tree to play among the leaves for awhile.
Now, as I am rapidly approaching the age of thirty-one,
Branches are encased in ice, as winter continues to unfold,
From my window, I see the cardinals and the disappearing sun,
Reminding me that life still survives in the bitter cold.
March, 7th, 2014
Gail Angel Doyle's contest - "Memories On Branches"
There are four seasons in a year. Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter. In the Spring time, you can enjoy the outdoors and go for a walk. And look at the trees turning beautiful colors, you can also enjoy raking the leaves into a big pile and jump into them. We also know the New Year is coming with Winter. Winter is a cold month with snow, now the children can play outside in the snow. And everyone else can enjoy the snow also.
seasons is the relationship.
changes a lot.
SUMMER tells us the value of FRIENDS.
WINTER tells us the caring of FRIENDS.
SPRING is about the quarrel with the FRIENDS.
AUTUMN tells about the LONELINESS.
THUNDER occurs when you fight with me.
LIGHTING occurs when.,
i miss my LOVED ONE.
RAIN occurs when.,
i spend time with my LOVELY ONE.
BREEZE occurs when you give a SMILE after a CRY.
that's the life,
which i spend with my DEAR ONE.
And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth
I stand among the reeds in the basin
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home
Spring Summer Autumn Winter Acrostic Poetry.
Seeking political office is getting hard,
Party politics needs more vigor in this regard:
Republicans must try more to deliver their views
In order to organize the people, without any excuse;
Nowadays, Democrats are getting stronger, after
Gaining control of the White House and the Senate altogether.
Some people think, and it's a true fact, that
Unless Republicans try to review their policy tact,
Many of their seats will be lost in congress,
Mainly some seats in the Senate, also some of the seats they control
Especially in the House: they will have to review and
Revise their conservative norms, regarding Immigration Reforms.
America needs a strong leader
Under the present day economic conditions
To lower the country's debt of over 14 trillions dollars:
Until and unless we try to cut down spending and
Most of us try to reduce excessive wastes,
No amount of effort will save the country from disaster.
We the people think that
In this country it was
Never the right thing,
To increase excessive spending,
Even if we could afford to spend it.
Responsibility lies in all of us to reduce the nation's debt.
It is not a sliver shame, that I have never felt what it feels like to dance along with the coldest feelings of winter, or holiday away with the warmest summer breezing, or either skate swiftly on the snowfall iced grounds.
I might be called a complicated bush man, for this. But I do not feel less aware intelligently or less creative to life affairs.
Because, I am wise enough to know,that it is the same heavens, that someone on the sea sees, that is the same view someone on land sees also. There might be difference in the atmospheric temperature, but the heavens will always remain a sky and not a scarf or scar.
I am an alien to summer, autumn, winter, spring and definitely a super alien to snow, but I am not an alien to hope, understand and experience, and surely my faith and hope of being in a snowy, summer and winter environment, shall never expire, this I known!
One day, I shall make summer my muffler of inspiration,
autumn, my soulful air of perseverances and continuity to excellence,
While winter, will be my successful coolant, to fluid up the burning inspiration of my unborn books.
I shall humbly wait and boldly work on, sincerely to a fashionably attractive endeavour, till I completely erase the uncultivated feelings.
And when I have achieved my crystal dreams of dancing to the summer breeze and clothing myself with snows, then I shall shake the sown feelings off, and start dreaming of visiting the moon.
Small speckles of wild grass
Looking like tiny green drops
That had fallen to the earth
Were the very first sign
Waving in the breeze
With their feathery tops rippling
They slowly reached for the sun
Growing much taller than myself
Then the dragonflies
Darting about like lost Messerschmitts
Looking for a place to land
Foretold of the coming
As I looked down the long winding path
I saw off in the distance
A slight figure of a woman
Drawing closer and closer
It was you
(And I had missed you so)
With your smiling face
And your arms wildly waving hello
Must be spring
The unusually humid
Hot summer night
Found my hands sliding
Along your warm, moist body
As I watched you
Lying nakedly on the cool sheets
My eyes followed a single drop
Of beaded sweat
Which had leisurely rolled down
Your gentle curves
And magically disappeared
As you awoke to my touch
We both followed
The movements of my fingers
For a single drop of water
Lost within the folds
Of your thighs
Must be summer
There was not a bird in the sky
They had all fallen
Into the top
Of a large red oak tree
On the northeast side of the meadow
Each one singing
Louder than the next
Until all the leaves shattered
Must be autumn
A single leaf
On a tree
Is all that remains
As a tribute to summer
While on the ground
Changing patterns with the blowing wind
The dry crinkling sound of leaves
Moves to and fro
As the tree quietly sleeps
For the chilly mornings to pass
And the warmth of a spring rain
To say… hello
I sit at my window
Staring down the road
Counting the passing days
Until I see your smiling face
And your arms wildly waving hello
Must be winter
so far the days of singing rays
have come to meet their sullen end
twixt nights of joy with hidden ploy
a sweetly tone, they do offend
O gasp! the serpent true must strike
O gasp! the lustful raging psych
whose cares are lost forever long
roaring out, O hear my song!
ideas soon drain, decisions fill
a mind at pace with thoughts that spill
float soundlessly thy solstice chill
the misty seep, foreboding reap
emotions run amok like thieves
for darkly cast, a favored past
along is lain misguided leaves
Looking through the lattice like grid One pane springs forth the budding greens flowering colors, an early sun so vivid As seasons change, so the reflective scene Viewing next pane but not quite the same greener a child dives into watery sheen to cool himself from the suns hot flame As the next pane turns a little frosty, greens leave for the coming golden and reds A light rain dances on the lake, geese are lofty, as times change, yet wings of beauty are spread Icicles drip in the window, cold has returned but the white shimmering lights remain The woven snowflakes and a child turns glides across the lake spins the last pane
Grass is green, flowers bloom, bees are buzzing
The sunshine gleams so bright, warm and golden
The sky is blue and clear, almost here is the spring.
Here is jolly March wind playing jokes with fun
Turning umbrellas inside out, fragrant fresh air
Whispering in each ear to wake up seeds soon.
Never mind March! You are not bad, or in anger
You are only blowing the winter away for April
It is the rainbow month of spring time shower.
Lots of pretty flowers bright with lilacs and daffodil
The shining roofs, summer in light, winter in shades
The little clouds go by with the windy warm April.
Oh, happy sounds of May! Hum of the buzzing bees
The song of gentle breeze, chirping of birds younger
The days are warm, by the evening fresh air cools.
Spring- the taste of prosperity, of adversity in winter,
The twig bare in winter, in spring green with glitters
Spring is recognized not by men but by plants sooner.
Month of May comes, makes to blossom all lusty hearts
Like herbs and trees do to bring the fruit and flourish
Boost lambs and lovers to spring and flourish in lusty deeds.
August 22, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Fourth Place Win
Contest: Season's bliss by Regina
Warm days herald in the spring
as she dances among young flowers
the mating call strong adds its ring
soon nestlings, calves and beavers
grow strong as she swirls past dancing
Hot flush of summer vibrant flowers
greet summer as she flashes past
in haste in case her time she flitters
falling in love a dance spell is cast
Autumn slowly following does
a dance most stately performs
she prances and flaunts on tiptoes
her stage is the forest platform
Winter grim and bleak in marches
her dance sometime very sullen
with her icy fingers she clutches
when she lets go you are heartbroken
On very rare occasions they come together
and dance around in joy of sisters united
oh what a time they have as they caper
forgetting the many times they have feuded
written 09/28/2013 by Shadow Hamilton
contest A Season's Dance
The dew indiscriminately
wept for all things living and dead
on this early autumn morning.
Its cold droplets caressed the leaves
while lingering sap-starved leaf stems
clung precariously above
and each dying leaf shed teardrops
for and onto their fallen kind.
One by one they released their hold
falling silently, gracefully
in their final unique fashion:
Some swayed. Others pirouetted;
and many more, somersaulting
into their final resting place.
Sunbeams from an October star
spilt rippling puddles of warm light
on their multicolored remains
amid the vibrant wildflowers.
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
Vulnerability of love, pain and joy it brings
My bosom open no armor for a fateful blow
My life belongs to me not I forgo
It's autumn but will you still be here in the spring
You almost left without a word or even a jest
A pain in my heart you can only fix
My heart hurting each time it ticks
I love you still through this test
I want you to be near yet I fear
You walked beside my as my wife
I have given you all I have in life
I want you forever I made that clear
When you are near my heart still sings
Hoping pain will turn to pleasure
Making our love strong beyond measure
Singing with life, love and our rings
Edward J. Ebbs - September 2011
( seasons that I love ) 5-7-5-7-7 Tanka poetry.
I love all seasons;
Plants and flowers bloom in spring
Birds sing in summer
Leaves tumbling down in autumn
Snow caps mountains in winter
By Dr Ko Ko Thein (a) Dr Mya Thein
Cherry blossoms bloom;
the townspeople sing, laugh, dance:
hope springs eternal.
Ah, the september weather is here,
the trees turn firery red and orange,
and the leaves gently fall to the surface.
Fall is here,
and the grass turns from green to yellow,
the souls of many change their ways.
From going on beaches in sun
to walking on wet streets,
with jackets on.
September weather is here,
too most it is depressing to see,
such change in the world.
But I love it.
The girlfriends and boyfriends go away,
and that makes me happy.
Then I go apple picking.
I pick red apples,
from low, hanging apple trees.
and I eat one, while walking down the trail.
Fall is here,
the time of death,
the last of sunshine.
I don't argue,
I love fall,
it is so cosy and it gives me hope.
Hope that a day will come again,
when the sun pops its head out
and the warmth returns.
September weather is the best,
when summer is gone, but not quite,
and the cool breeze sweaps through your open windowpane.
I love fall,
it gives me hope,
that with death comes life.
Effulgent sun proffers love
Above the undergrowth…of
Thorns and weeds
The moon unravels wonders
The wind turns rustling the reddish-brown leaves.
Trees stand devoid of their cover and howl
Like bathers caught without a green towel.
The wind turns, the arctic soul misconceives.
The snows pile up around my silver car.
Outraged the trees thrash and howl in the wind
Smarting like young children regimented.
The snows pile up; the heart is as stones are.
The iris bloom, couples old, young elope.
Buds develop forth from bare twigs and grow,
A bald man farming a new luscious mo.
The iris bloom, the heart feels raptured hope.
The grass browns the dams are slowly emptied.
Branches hang drooping in the severe sun,
Young mothers at their hot sinks deflated.
The grass browns the heart resigns abandoned.
You seduce others, caress them and give
Love, mine remains fervent and I forgive.
This poem is dry/
Free from liquid tongues/
It cries out loud as the misty words blown reflects winter/
Hearts cold /
This poem is mine/
Re-read it after a while/
The message turns warmer in time/
You are told/
It carries old expressive survivors who died in the future/
Marry words that lose leaves but surviving the bitter cold season/
Words that bought blankets for them lyrical branches/
This poem is sweet/
Dry poems have rights to be pleased/
This poem is sweet/
Rhymes shelter on the sentence's rooftop before engagement parties/
Cut and paste scissors blur the vision/
Not true expression/
Bees group hug in mud of resurrected angels to echo this poem/
Echo this poem/
Spread the word in this cold world/
We will all get warm/
It’s October, we find time to go by the spring-house to get the tulips. It is time to prepare for winter and the inevitable coming of spring. The bulbs look hopelessly dead and ugly, rather pitiful in fact. John nurtures them tenderly.
tucks the bulbs in bed
till spring's alarm
Through many snows and chilling temperatures, we do not consider at all what is taking place under the ground. One warm March day we see tiny noses poking up through the soil around the back porch. By April, we are sitting in the swing admiring the result of John’s loving labor of last fall.
seeing the blooms
How could such ugliness have turned to such beauty in the cold, hard earth? As May approaches bringing other flowers, our short-lived tulips drop their blossoms and say good-bye. But as John knows, the wisest of gardeners do not hasten to bother the beauty in its passing.
dust to dust
all blossoms shrivel
food for the soil
wilting leaves nourish the bulb
hidden in the ground
The bulb remains unattractive throughout the whole cycle of growth. Along in mid-July when all external signs of life have faded, John removes the unsightly bulbs from their bed, putting them back in the spring-house until fall. Without them, there will be no blossoms next spring. It is the care we show the bulb which bursts into the beauty we bless in time.
Cherry blossoms call,
beckon nature's majesty--
and the humble bee.