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The Four Seasons

Don’t know that I have a favorite season I mean, Spring is quite nice, if you don’t mind sneezin’ Summer, warmly teasing! Till sunburn besets the host, unarguably not pleasing Winter skiing, a jet stream blast! Providing the trunk of a tree is not your speedy last Which leads me to autumn most worthless of all, probably why poets write so much of the fall….

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




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Date: 10/3/2023 4:29:00 PM
That was funny and nicely rhymed.
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Joe Dimino
Date: 10/4/2023 7:08:00 AM
Thank you, Hilda; got to add a little humor in the poetic mix. Blessings my friend. Have a beautiful day!
Date: 10/2/2023 10:37:00 AM
-Each season has its positive and negative aspects, Joe ... but spring is my favorite time :) - hugs
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Joe Dimino
Date: 10/2/2023 1:50:00 PM
Absolutely, spring is beautiful. I am learning, seasons differently appreciated throughout the world, depending on climate. In Phoenix, Spring is short, fall and winter are when most things grow. Nothing except the cactus, and Desert Rats like me survive the Summers outdoors. I love the desert. Blessings my friend.
Date: 9/30/2023 4:38:00 AM
lol I do more poetry in fall yes, and my favs are spring and fall, cuz they are not so intense, thankyou for sharing your pen & heart dear one.
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Joe Dimino
Date: 9/30/2023 7:39:00 AM
Hi Vie; happy this gave you a chuckle -- what the hay! Learning to laugh at ourselves is prerequisite for laughter in general. Probably more harm has been caused in this world, just by people being overly protective of self image, combined with the unwillingness to give preference to the perhaps better ideas of others.
Date: 9/30/2023 2:57:00 AM
hahah so true, i had really bad allergies this year in spring and i never get them and in summer they were worse... I do not like the fall, as it is the season of death for me.... im a summer child, but even summer has been cruel this year.. you are a great poem my friend..
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Joe Dimino
Date: 9/30/2023 7:43:00 AM
I know; allergies are pain, I have them also. This has been a rough year. Blessings my friend.
Date: 9/29/2023 10:25:00 PM
There is always something good and something bad in each season.
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Joe Dimino
Date: 9/30/2023 7:45:00 AM
Just like most people...except us:) Thank you, Vic -- as the Beetles Said: "we get by with a little help from friend...." -- Blessings.
Date: 9/29/2023 9:33:00 PM
I enjoyed this poem a lot, Joe. Although there is no perfect in nature, it can come pretty close in any season. We have to take the bad with the good. Great writing, my friend. :)
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Joe Dimino
Date: 9/29/2023 9:52:00 PM
I really like them all, and any morning I awaken right side of the earth, my contrary humor the protagonist -- for sure, we must take the bad with the good, and really the good, for most of us, far out weighs the bad. It's more attitude. Blessings my friend.
Date: 9/29/2023 8:18:00 PM
I could easily make out your preferences. For you Spring is the finest and autumn the worst. Each seasin has its pluses and minuses. Beautifully written dear Joe.
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Joe Dimino
Date: 9/29/2023 9:56:00 PM
Hi Valsa; just my twisted sense of humor. I really like them all, especially the heat of the summer, good for the old bones that sort of ache and creak a bit more in damp, cold weather. Blessings my friend. All seasons are great themes for an array of poetry.
Date: 9/29/2023 3:39:00 PM
Haha Can't pick favoriat but definanatly a dis like.
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Joe Dimino
Date: 9/29/2023 3:58:00 PM
Thank you, TS. Blessings my friend.
Date: 9/29/2023 3:33:00 PM
I am sure you love them all, my friend-- as I do. Every season has its joy and some pain--just like life. Autumn is simply beautiful! I hear you, Joe--jest eases the burden.
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Joe Dimino
Date: 9/29/2023 3:37:00 PM
Hi Vijay; thank you. And guilt~ I would stop to so punctuate on a battlefield. Blessings my friend. Keep writing about all seasons -- poetry is such love's personification. When this mind of mine entirely goes, I will greatly miss it...or won't miss it:)
Date: 9/29/2023 2:43:00 PM
Come on now, this poem was written in jest, a poke at myself as well. And don't most poets honestly wonder, bemoan sometimes, ask ourselves if something we love so much, poetry, the very essence of life, outside of family, for many of us, may have little value or none at all in the so called real, struggling world? Blessings my fellow poets.
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