Elegy Seasons Poems | Elegy Poems About Seasons
These Elegy Seasons poems are examples of Elegy poems about Seasons. These are the best examples of Elegy Seasons poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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How can there be despair when the entire
natural world unfolds with new life?
When the anhinga alights from the Nowhere
he was into the Somewhere you are, negotiating
his spectacular landing, spreading out his
Gulliver wingspan to warmth and healing on
the grassy knoll that rolls down to the lake--
manmade it may be, but the green-gold ducks
don't know that. They swim, they scan,
they disappear into its mysterious depths
for what nurturance is there.
How can there be sorrow when the male cardinal
darts across your line of vision with his red reality
twice in the same day into the Crape Myrtle
as it readies to burst its rooted heart? And, when
he comes again at dusk to rest on a budding
branch to sing a song you never heard before--
allows you to tell him how beautiful he is.
But when you ask him to stay, he darts away
because you are not the regulator.
How is there is no blessing when the stone
gray Buddha in his prayerful place on your porch
with his folded hands and bare feet reminds you
that the gods we respect do not always look like us.
When the Northern mockingbird who fell in love
with the South offers his limitless songbook
in the Laurel Oak, that wise grandfather, whose
leafy language writing the Braille of the senses
says Hold On, Hold on, and So, you do.
Copyright © Nola Perez | Year Posted 2015
in foul folic grain,
lay quid’s worth teal of guilt,
slain yonder eye
held pelt polled tax,
near terra gar fear wilt…
Copyright © William Ward | Year Posted 2006
I see you there
While your swarms of light surround you
A typhoon could hit,
And you'd still stand just as still
Your expression unfaltering through it all
It is spring now
Your name smells like flowers
But the rose
Of your cheeks is gone
Winter frost clings to your hardened face
Your eyes were rich
Like sunset on planting soil
Warm earth to sleep on
Now I sleep in the trees
I always get frostbite from the cold ground
A touch of your skin
Would make my heart melt
Last time we met
Gliding your arm underneath my robes,
You were ice cold
Copyright © Laura Meese | Year Posted 2005
Portugal in September.
Perfect translucent day and I can see the peculiar nature again,
as it is no longer a blur of glaring sunlight. It is like meeting
an old friend, one who was rumored to have died, in a country
I will not see again. Evergreens, carob and olive trees lost in
the mist of time, forever alone in the transience of seasons.
I also see glimpses of the sea it doesn’t interest me, not today
anyway, but I do notice it is deep blue and has white sails on.
On my scooter I drive across a narrow bridge they have been
working on so it can take heavy lorries, a road is being built
somewhere out of sight. Wish I were a painter, fair clouds on
azure sky, could be smoke signals sent by an Indian tribe yet
to be discovered, I see the past and future at the same time.
Bewildering, do I drive in a landscape of ancient dreams?
I better stop find at a café, drink a “Bica” (coffee) before I fade
into the mystery of nature and can’t find my way back home.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2011
…And there’s a naked lady
On a rocky shoreline, I see
Her beauty, a pinkish smile
As I, the lover, pass her by
The jolly rhythm of the sea
Has a great resounding plea
The rain will not fall today
Though, the sky’s real gray
Sweet laughter in the wind
Hers touches my worn skin
I plead thee, O careless tare
O let you not disrespect her
For she, truly, reminds me
Of my ever dearest fantasy
Every time her beauty I see
Whilst I drink my morn tea
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2007
Peerless and unrivaled, you are the greatest of them all
Lo, how denigrated to some you have become
What misfortune to be labeled as frigid and bitter.
The beauty of your pureness sleek with sleet and reflected by daggers of sickle can turn any ice-cold heart warm like the fire your presence invites.
We handle fragile things with care because of their delicate nature.
The stillness and soft sound of the snow falling in the somewhat sad season
Only, it is sad because it is the shortest of them all.
To see you go is to look upon the face of Persephone approaching her repeated doom...
Copyright © PoetPrentice Dupins | Year Posted 2017