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Best November Poems

Below are the all-time best November poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of november poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Details | November Poem | |

Where The White Rose Blooms

The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.

He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.

This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.

The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.

With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.

His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.

The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.

The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.




November 25th, 2013

Details | November Poem | |

Somber Days

I am somber like November days and my words speak weak, as if through tired tongue I see the trees stand naked reaching their limbs across the stream as if touching and comforting each other from the bitter cold that's settling in sometimes I envy them I want to stand naked arch my back reach towards hands and feel the comfort of more than I am allowed and escape the bitterness as it settles in it doesn't seem fair to question a day or night that wears the same veil as me, colorless and silent in the breeze as it whispers through the trees sometimes I want to lean my ear and eavesdrop on them I want to peak beneath the skies veil and see the colors blend to see the rain less clear through colored drops fall upon a canvas and paint a masterpiece I want to feel my hands finger a pen, without tingling from bottled up emotions to feel my soul inside me not as if locked outside looking in, as if a stranger to my own life not be the afterthought or an emotion beyond words of some poet's muse I want to know the meaning of this emptiness I want to understand why the tree is as naked as my thoughts in winter yet dressed heavy in the summer and most beautiful in the fall why does beauty fall become grounded and dance in November's wind somber, like the day....

Details | November Poem | |

Just Like November

I wait patiently, and eagerly listening for your call.
Was I such a liability to cause you to drift away like leaves in the fall?
       The temperature dropped 30 degrees that day.  On that sidewalk I begged you to stay
But you turned and walked towards the subway.
       Just like November you were suddenly gone.
A man on the corner was playing the saxophone.  I dropped a dollar in his hand and moved
       on.  Without her I headed home.

       I watched the gentle breeze toss around a feather.
It's during these times I wonder if we will ever get back together.
       The chill against the nape of my neck is not my type of weather.
You were so cold.  Your touch like ice, and you did not play nice.
       But I rolled the dice and suffered frost bite because loving
you came with a price.
       My heart and emotions have been disassembled and rearranged.
I wondered how strange?!  Just like November everything seem to change.

       The holidays draw near. Everyone is in festive cheer.
It's just not the same with you not here.
       Now days I stand facing the subway
and I must say, I have this great fear.
       That just like November, I'll soon disappear.
The chill still finds the nape of my neck from the rear.
       The man on the corner still plays the saxaphone.
I drop another dollar in his hand and move on.
       But this time I did not head home,
And just like November we're both suddenly gone!



 .

Details | November Poem | |

With you in autumn evening

The sweet songs of birds, We hand in hand across the lawn, Pansies white yellow and violet Tossing their heads in the breeze. Somewhere the sound of falling leaves. The sound of squirrel cracking the walnut. Calm weather warm sun, White fluffy clouds forming different shapes, A passenger flight in the blue sky, Sun born in the horizon and about to fade in the horizon, Both our heartbeats echo inside of chest, Shutting and opening of our lips, Your unkempt hair flying backwards, Yellowish west sky. Heart shaped fig leaf's shadow. If I could stop this world from spinning, I would do so, Just to be with you In this autumn evening.

Details | November Poem | |

JFK January 20, 1961 - November 22, 1963

A handsome man, a valiant son,
John Kennedy was he.
A man who rose to President
with civil rights the key.

Who can forget the many days
like Camelot they seemed,
when all eyes were on Washington,
they passed just like a dream.

Ah, we remember Jacqueline
a Vassar deb was she,
who walked with grace on his right side
through fame and infamy.

One thousand days was all we had
of this great President
before a gunshot took his life
for all the world to see.

We mourn him still, we miss his smile
his knowledge and his grit
for he and Martin dreamed a dream,
we reaped the best of it.


 


Details | November Poem | |

The Silence of War

The Silence of War

Behind the Curtains of a church window
Men in Prayer, orchestrated by sweat and Lice
Find relief from snipers gaze

Beside the cross sits the last candle
Flickering precariously, searching for sanctuary from the wind
But the wick is near the end
And so are these men
The Harvest of War is almost in
For this is November 1918.

The German guns call like the song of the Siren
Irresistible, for only the dead will hear
New orders to cross the Sambre-Oise Canal 
Another postcard for Historians to write.

Machine gunners scythe the ranks
Gone the Irish regiment, clover for the beast
I take shelter behind a splintered Oak Tree
Once magnificent, A survivor of Natures glory
Now a hideous spectre to man’s intervention.
I wait here with Wilf my captain
Waiting for death to find me
The mud beckoning for blood,
The Canal red like the River Sticks
A feed for tomorrows Newspaper.

A groan from wilf, his eyes start to dim
Fear brings the Lord’s Prayer to my lips
 A last haven for my soul to cling 
 I watch his spirit fly away,
 As the words fade from my voice
Like so many others on this day of carnage
 Wilf, my friend, died November 4th 1918

Yet another contribution to this dark harvest,
Another soul for god to tender.
A statistic, a casualty of war, 
To be remembered generically
A wreath to share with a multitude of lost darlings,
 Another photograph to fade on the mantel piece 
A piece of History for a grieving widow to dust

In the ranks of the dead
Angels count our losses
 What dreams did we lose?
 What voices were made silent?
 What books were never written? 
And how many tomorrows gone,
Lost in the darkness of death?
Under this oak tree, fading from memory
A soldier Wilfred Owen was taken too

Unspoken truth in unspoken poems
 Silent to mortal’s ear
Another casualty of war
A feast of wisdom for angels to keep?
For His words were far too much,
for the hogs of war to stomach.
His poetry made silent by country’s shame,
Unpatriotic, not cricket old bean said the generals 
Only now, through peace can we learn 
The voice of one soldier,

How I pity humanity 
For silence is a killer
Democracy, and justice its victim, 
And the inevitable Silence of war will kill us all.

Footnote
On this day November 4th 1918, Wilfred Owen killed in action, Sambre-Oise Canal, 7 days from Sanity
One of England’s Finest War Poets.  

Details | November Poem | |

November

November, November I wish it was September

With nice weather to remember

October, October

you were a little bolder

With rain and snow

and so much colder

December around the corner

with ice and snow

Busy people on the go

January comes in cold and harsh

Onto February I want to march

March comes in a sign of spring

The world becomes brighter again

The new buds of May

Can really make my day

June full of bloom

Has taken away my winter gloom

July and August the best months yet

Back to September you can bet

October sets in and

November, November I wish it was September

Details | November Poem | |

November

November

Cool winds turn cold as the winds stir from the north
The sun, the life giving star, heats the tropics so far to the south
Its warmth a distant memory to the lands that it deserted
Long forgotten greens of summer turn into the color of a raging fire
The fire dies and leafs that lived in the summer sun die and fall to the ground
The white silky clouds turn black and heavy carrying moisture from the open waters
The mighty lakes of the north turn violent under the fading yellow sun
Fighting the winds and the certainty of the fingers of the north freezing them
Rain turns to ice storm and them into the snow that children love
Mother Nature makes her changes as the speed of life slows
Baby animals, now grown, leave their family to explore their new world
Some settle down for a sleep that will protect for the three months of bitter cold
Others travel to the lands of their ancestors where the climate never changes
No one tells them to make such a journey
It is just the cycle of life that protects them and their young
But all the ice, the snow and the suffering will end
For it is November and November is a month of change
The changes will last until the spring when live starts anew
The ice and snow will melt and food will be plentiful
Green with once again color the trees, grass and shrubs
The animals who were babies in the fall return with babies of their own
The lakes thaw and calm in the spring’s gentle breezes
Life will return to normal at least until the winds of November return
But, at least for now, that is a world away in another time
And it is no longer remembered

Details | November Poem | |

Emmanuel

there is a cool rain falling down on me it wakes me from the pain of love's faded memory we are in every breath of November's lonely air all my days and all my nights we still do share I still feel your love raining down on me I wish in your arms I still could forever be although our paths may never cross again I will keep you safe within November's rain (piano) within this cool November rain falling down on me as long as i still live we will always be in memories alive as we were before I will love you darling forevermore
11/21/21013

Details | November Poem | |

Autumn

All too soon the colorful spectacular disappears.
Under the soggy leaves, lies the dormant grass.
Too soon the blue skies have turned to grey.
United is the wind with cold.
Memories of summer slowly fade away.
Now we will wait for the snow.

Brenda Meier-Hans
Written 2013

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