Best Hawthorne Poems
MAY BRIDE OF SPRING
May bride of Spring sheds shades of night
And dons a dress of Emerald green
Now winter’s chills are put to flight
May bride of Spring sheds shades of night
While humble Hawthorne blossoms bright
Like snow upon the hedge now seen
May bride of Spring sheds shades of night
And dons a dress of Emerald green
This sunny morn, a maying we will go.
We seek bright blooms for garlands and our queen.
The best month of the year is here, and so
this sunny morn, a maying we will go
into the woods where wildest blossoms grow.
With baskets in our hands; through fields of green,
this sunny morn, a maying we will go.
We seek bright blooms for garlands and our queen.
We’ll weave a pole with ribbons round and round.
the queen presiding over all we do,
We‘ll dance and sing with a most joyful sound.
We’ll weave a pole with ribbons round and round,
and garlands we will make from flowers found,
and for the queen, a crown we’ll fashion too.
We’ll weave a pole with ribbons round and round.
the queen presiding over all we do.
A king there must be, and he is the one
who races fastest to the Hawthorne tree.
My eye has been upon the baker’s son!
A king there must be, and he is the one
who’ll stay with me until the day is done.
You see, the queen they chose this day is me!
A king there must be, and he is the one
who races fastest to the Hawthorne tree.
(Can't believe I accidentally deleted this one after putting it up the other day)
EMERALD MAY
The humble Hawthorne blossom bright
Like snow upon the hedge is seen
Sweet May, is clothed in jade and white
Now winter’s chills are put to flight
The bride of Spring sheds shades of night
And dons a dress of Emerald green
To greet the Sun her Summer Knight
Who bows before his beauteous Queen
A faint perfume of lilac blooms has stirred the sleeping dawn
Bright sunlight weaves a golden loom with threads across the lawn
Crisp white-lipped Delphiniums tossed snowflakes to the hills, while
Daffodils and pink jonquils shake off the morning chill
Each violet of morning has left no stone deferred
Found growing near, a sprout appears from every seed interred!
Greeting me like candle flames, are poppies, gold and red
Hawthorne weaves a golden crown around the arbor's head!
I look long past the windowpane, and spring has bloomed anew,
just in time to see the sky revealed in shades of blue
knitting primroses in surprise! A sight long overdue!
Lost between the flagstones, alyssum, wild and free, has
mushroomed into puffs of white, competing with sweet peas!
New sprouts of cosmos spring alive in flowerbeds we've teased
On winter's lace a pansy face is smiling up at last!
Petunias in their pastel coats, are dressed like royalty
Queen of all in velvet robes, the iris crowns the grass!
Resplendent are the foxgloves…..and the dragons are a Snap!
Sweet Williams are such gentlemen, they make the morning grand
Tiger lilies brave the wind, stalking in the breeze
Under every shady tree, violas are reprieved, while
verdant shades of primrose lace wear green upon their sleeves
Wisteria's hysteria spreads levity with ease!
Xanadu is Statice "quo"……now, what more could it do?
Yarrow blooms tomorrow. I'll have to dry a few
Zinnias mean that spring has sprung, to share fresh air with you!
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"Spring Is In The Air" Contest Form ..... A to Z (Abecedarian)
3/4/18
Flowers of the Spring
Apple Blossom petals cascade in the wind
Blue Stars light the path for Spring's friends
Cosmos intoxicating euphoric scent
Dewberries dangle down over the fence
Earths season has shifted from winter to spring
Flowers bloom for miles enhancing all things
Geraniums illuminate in colorful glow
Holly oak, Hawthorne, and Hyacinth now grow
Irises dilate like the most beautiful eyes
Jasmines sweet scent can not be disguised
Kaleidoscope's of colors tell you Springtime is here
Lilacs lush lavender color crystal clear
Marigolds take first prize in the Spring Orange Fair
Nighttime is full of scented flower petal air
Orchids adorn every little ponds shore
Petunias in a pot sitting next to Grandma's door
Quietly this meadow blooms listening to birds sing
Roses that are red are the best gift of love to bring
Snowdrops can grow enormous bulbs all year round
Tulips wear the seasons most popular crown
Ursinia the African Daisy is beautiful but rare
Viburnum group together on a single branch to share
Witch Hazel's are up to their same old silly tricks
X marks the spot best suited for picnics
Yellow flowers adorn every gals springtime dress
Zephyr Flowers round out this poetic Springtime list
04/13/2016
Whispers of talent are carried on New England breezes
Dickinson, Hawthorne, and the Irvings’ son Washington
Though I sense a special connection to all of these
None inspired more than Edwin Arlington Robinson
Three Pulitzer Prizes were displayed on his mantle place
His childhood in Maine he described as “stark and unhappy”
Though he went to Harvard, academics he’d not embrace
Arlington’s style was unique and his cadence snappy
“Miniver Cheevy,” displaced soul, longed for Medieval years
To Miniver I could relate, felt I was born too late
Wishing I’d ridden West with America’s pioneers
But at least my dreams alcohol will never desecrate
For his depressed brother Herman, “Richard Cory” he wrote
A handsome man who appeared to enjoy the perfect life
But the turmoil in his heart, his exterior did not denote
Richard shot himself in the head to put an end to strife
Edwin, your character studies touched something deep inside
Struggles you described of common men gripped me, made me cry
People whose dreams and accomplishments did not coincide
I, too, watch life’s play from backstage, feeling like a standby
Though I seek to display wit, tragedies pour from my pen
And much like my muse, my life seems filled with loneliness
As poets we reach out to touch lives of men and women
Hoping to find comfort as troubled feelings we express
* Written for Jared's "Ode" contest
Edwin Arlington Robinson (December 22, 1869 – April 6, 1935) was an American poet
born in Maine who won three Pulitzer Prizes for his work. His brother Dr. Dean
Robinson died of a drug overdose, perhaps inspiring Robinson to write of the
alcoholic dreamer “Miniver Cheevy.”. It has been speculated that his poem "Richard
Cory" was penned for his other brother, Herman. E.A. Robinson’s poems have a dark
pessimism stemming from dreams gone awry. The style and themes of many of my
poems seem to emulate Robinson, who often wrote in rhyming quatrains. “Richard
Cory” can be found at http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/richard-cory/.
To read “Miniver Cheevy,” go to
http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/robinson/12640.
"Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind."
Nathaniel Hawthorne
I sneer at grandfather clock, standing in the hall,
listening as his ticking, leaves my anger spent.
I long to bind his hands and make time crawl,
and if that's considered a sin, I will never repent.
His old brass pendulum swings much too fast,
like a gossip, repeatedly wagging his tongue.
Oh, how I would love to make him gong his last
so I'd have eternal peace when his bell is wrung.
His infinite chime persists at the top of each hour
and in that moment I feel recurring pain.
I must get past the relentless echo of his power.
Headaches from his hammering drive me insane!
Not in the present, but I swear that one day soon
I'll find a way to remove his pulley and chains.
No longer will he gambol that annoying tune,
a cadenced rhythm in redundant refrain.
Time - 8 Word Challenge
Sponsored by A Dear Heart
Posted on July 3, 2020
“A flower of strange beauty, growing in a desolate spot, and blossoming in the wind.”
— Nathaniel Hawthorne
Blooming zinnias, swaying in the breeze,
Elegance attracting
cute little hummingbirds with ease,
Hues impacting;
Lemon yellow butterflies flit around,
Collecting sweet nectar,
Zinnias stand tall in the ground,
Sole protector;
Hearts flutter at the sight of these flowers,
Cheerfully spread good vibes,
Small, yet potent, they have powers
no tongue describes.
21st December 2022
For Constance La France's "Writing challenge - Zip, Zig, Zag, Zing" contest
I, cold ... cold as stone ...
But is that not befitting such as I?
Once, merely common, hidden deep in the earth,
Still, my quality made itself known ... my porcelain perfection
Shone in the sun, and I was freed from Terra's grasp ...
Across a great sea I was rocked, carried in care
To finally, joyfully, go under The Master's hand.
I slowly, agonizingly, emerged from the cloud-white slab, pure ...
Brought forth into all glory and consummation!
Stone saw, chisel, rasp, cloth, and paper ... I stretched my limbs, reached my
Fingers and toes to the ether ... arched my back in a repose of death,
Laid upon an altar of mocked coral, draped only in my net -
The Pearl Diver's repository of all things glistening and wondrous!
Oh, what exquisite orbs, those that grace the net's seam!
White, pink, and black opaline gems - iridescent ocean treasures!
Miraculous drops of milky, nacreous moonlight, hidden in Neptune's gullet,
Awaiting their emancipation ... finally freed at the edge of the diver's blade!
But that, for me, is yet a dream ... I am but stone, after all ...
Be content, instead, to gaze upon my keen beauty,
I, the polished progeny of a sculptor's acumen,
I, the refined, glorious bloom of stone,
I, the ivory issue of marble elegance,
I, the bairn of a master ...
The Dead Pearl Diver.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the " ... And Now For Something Completely Different" Poetry Contest, John Lawless, Judge & Sponsor.
~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Brian's Choice Q, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
( This is about the sculpture "The Dead Pearl Diver" by Benjamin Paul Akers 1858, currently on display at The Portland Museum of Fine Art in Portland, ME ... this was a personal favorite of Nathaniel Hawthorne, and he wrote about it more than once. This is an incredible sculpture, especially in person )
robin's melody
rings true from the Hawthorn tree~
sweet sound among thorns.
The rule of a legend is, that it is possibly true but there is not ever enough proof, yet I heard from a friend, that dozens of children have died and
many others, at the Thousand Steps to the Mississippi in Clinton, Iowa.
A place, where Stone Face was worshiped, for he watched over the area and the tribes. Over time, legends change and rearrange but they are usually strange, so why should this one be any different. Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote of a prophecy, about a great stone face, and that a man was to be born in his image.
I’m reminding everyone, that there are the steps, and there is a silhouette,
of a man dressed in stone. This story comes from a friend of a friend.
A young boy, who was not afraid at all, of the stories, begins his descent,
on the Thousand Step stairway. Step after step, to the river below,
walking alone, as the storm clouds cover the sun and the woods,
become dark.The boy’s imagination has begun to run away,
and then behind him, he hears click, click but he is a smart boy and
reminds himself. It is just a stick falling, from a tree,
so he continues downward.There are now, many steps behind him and
many more, before him. He comes to a stone bridge,
where he looks over the edge. When swoosh! A covey of black crows fly up,
almost hitting in the face, causing him to slip but as the imagination goes,
there is always something, lying beneath. Upon catching his balance,
realizing they had not come, for his soul the boy moves on.
Suddenly he hears a strange moan and tries to blame this, on the wind coming,
across the mighty river but to be sure, he runs a little bit.
When lightning strikes and from the light, he sees a silhouette of a man.
Stopping in his steps, He notices, that he cannot move or speak but
only groan. The boy has becomes stone and the path is, like some
Medusan pathway. We all have seen faces in stone and in other things,
therefore the moral of this story is you should always be wary,
of where you step!
A is for angry atheist angst
B- you're bleeding bruised broken taking your allowance to the bank
C is for cutting, crimson and crying
D is for daemons, death, darkness, and dying
E is for everything gone wrong in your life
F is the freedom you find in the knife
G is for gothic, straight from the womb
H is for the latest hawthorne heights tune
I is for immortal- you've commited suicide ten times already
J is for the jaded and emotionally unsteady
K is the knife you "accidentally" misplaced
L is for losers, lost life and lace
M is for makeup that cakes up your face
N is the nightlight to keep away the dark you "embrace"
O is because you're obviously obscure
P is for poetry or prose- you're not sure
Q is for quiet, you sit all alone
R is for razors when no one picks up the phone
S is for screamo you can't get enough
T is for tears damn, being fourteen is tough!
U is for ubiquitous mental disease
V is for vacant vacuous vampire wanna-be's
W is for whiny,well-fed suburbanite teens
X is for Xanax- you know what it means
Y is for youth spent all about you and your anhedonia
No diamond in the rough, you're just another cubic zirconia
Do not tell me they are job creators
Sitting and watching their money
Like pit bulls
Deaf to the screams of the innocent
Web designer lawyer and bricklayer alike
At this last hour of decaying madness
Of system that doesn't listen
Machinelike deaf hollow stonelike
Tonedeaf and heartdeaf
Stubborn cold and unfeeling
Where are we heading
21st century madness time coming and coming
O descendants of hawthorne thoreau dickinson sartre marx lenin and trotsky
Come now
We can surely do better than this
Surely we can focus on common art common science common culture and common humanity
Is that not truest sophistication
O children of generation x y and z
Make z+1 the realization of one...
The realization of oneness
Now and for all time.
And golden ears of corn stretched to listen, to the suns
warming ray of words, as stems swayed and rattled. In
the next field yellow Sunflowers genuflected, lifted
their heads to their heavenly maker, turning not to lose
his eye. And the sun beat of an egg blue sky, a blanket
of life for all to nestle. Only song rained, spilling from
the throats of lofty Skylarks sharing their delight on this
miracle of days. Hawthorne, Bramble and Blackberry
wrestled creating a thorn haven for Blackbird and Thrush
as they cared for the young ever gaping mouths. Bumble
bees and Hover flies darted flower heads, intoxicated on
the abundance of rich pollen, the flower kissed and life is
granted. The fruits ripen, Field mice nibble the sweet corn's
tender pods, and the Buzzard glides softly with searching
eye. This day takes place with no rush or haste, no agenda
to adhere to, just to amble at natures pace. And on I walk
forever lost.
When you play a little Marvin Gaye,
And you mix it up with some Tupac.
You throw in a little Whitney and then
You add just a little Mariah Carey,
Some Ludacris, Some Mary Mary.
Throw in some Fred Hammond,
Aaliyah, Tank, Kirk Franklin,
And Raheem Devaugn's "Woman".
A little Dwele and Common,
Mos Def, Avant and
Gym Class Heroes.
Play some Ray Charles,
Heart, Queen, Ella Fitzgerald,
Paramore, Hawthorne Heights, Musiq Soulchild,
Poison, Case, Rascal Flatts,
Etta James, Louis Armstrong and mix that
With a little DMX and Christina Aguilera,
Destiny's Child, Timbaland the hitmaker,
Chris Brown, Anthony Hamilton, J Moss, Jill Scott.
Mix it up and then you've got
The soundtrack to my life.