Best Seasons Poems
I've never heard the sound of snow
nor dawning's oboes crooning light,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow
and chimings of the flurries grow
as alabastrine wings take flight.
I've never heard the sound of snow
when cello strings caress the bow
of morning at its burnished height,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow
a salmon cirrus cameo,
diaphanous and opalite.
I've never heard the sound of snow,
piano in the afterglow
of sunshine's brittle fahrenheit,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow
ebullient through the chorals' flow
across the operatic white.
I've never heard the sound of snow,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow.
Apple cheeked autumn eyes bashful skies, as
Yellow frocked summer says her goodbyes to fragrant
Earth's seeded spring, to wild bouquets
Arranged by careless care, for the
Roses and daffodils to compare
Dandelion sprinkles of buoyant cheer on
Windswept wishes from children's magic, landing
In water lilies and long looping lanes, woven in
Nests of chirping, fragile hope
Delicate shadows of feather and wing
Lingering through flickering whiplash steam where
Ice caves lost to reckless flame
Northern flocks under southern stars to map
Greener seasons slipped through graying rain
Drowsy flutters the pale sun's
Oscillating gusts of sleeted night as
Wan, wanting branches undone by
November's surrender to darkling winter.
10/09/20
In November I write of winter
for I am weary of the old year and tired bones
I visualize all hardships blanketed with fresh snowfall
geese in a "V" as they flee on trade winds to the south
season's celebrations, toasting in the new year
senior couples delighting in a luminous sunset
knowing it might be their last together
In February I write of spring
for I am weary of the bone-chilling cold
I envision the circle of life resurrecting dormant earth and tired souls
zephyr winds teasing nascent flower petals and young hummingbirds
mayday flower crowns adorning laughing children
young lovers sharing kisses, dreaming dreams of
infinite possibilities
In May I write of summer
for I am weary of the bone-soaking rain
I forecast cloudless skies and longer days
Santa Ana winds dismissing every chill
a lark's lilting lullaby lulling loons on the lake
vacationing families basking in the warm outdoors
brides and grooms viewing limitless horizons
In August I write of autumn
for I am weary of the bone-dry heat
I anticipate bewitching fall winds tantalizing neon maple leaves
turkeys gobbling, ducks wobbling, thrushes warbling
harvest home throbbing with the aroma of fresh pie
middle age couples cuddling by the fireplace
giving thanks for all that lies behind and ahead
Lord, help me to view the past with grace,
the future with hope,
the present with contentment,
and to write of November
in November.
written 25 October 2021
"What happens in the forest stays in the forest"
The trees are trimmed,
The leaves on the ground
Proposing passion, sweet mist
Naked with nothing to bare or wear
Nature's breath lightens the atmosphere
She breathes in, he breathes out
The auditory sensation of rain
- drums down and deepens
The course is near its end,
Deep in this forest night
A Gentleman among the trees,
Hibernating new seeds
"On the other side of the forest"
He guides a path, with ebony eyes
A convincing vent, I accept
The fear is broken, I sleep in glee
The whispers disappear
Drying in peace by the secret bayou
Broad leaves lay under raw landscape
Lulled by the chills he quills
A quarter past midnight
Mr Romantic
- prepares the new sheets of Winter.
11-11-15
~*~
Autumn Afterglow
As halcyon summer days
wave goodbye
Bucolic trees seen from
an autumn sky
Become a cynosure
of colored bliss
So heat of summer days
we will not miss.
When dawn's hoarfrost gleams
on gossamer seams,
As diamonds are bestowed
by sunlit beams
With pastiche of rainbow
hues in tall trees,
Leaves begin their dance
when cool zephyrs tease,
Imbued with beauty and
susurrus sound
A wayward wafture before
touching ground.
7-19-22
~7th Place Premiere Contest~
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
10-30-18
A Personal Favorite Poem Written in 2018~First Place~
Contest Judged: 12/12/2018 4:26:00 AM
Sponsored by: Carolyn Devonshire
EARLY NOVEMBER 2018,ANY FORM,ANY THEME,UPTO A MAX OF 20 LINES
Sponsored by: Brian Strand ~First Place~
SEASONAL OR UNSEASONAL Poetry Contest~5th Placement~
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
As blaze of August fades into the Fall
horizons new have burned and turned to ash
and textures of the change of seasons clash,
a plague of frost becomes a rose’s pall.
The supple smooth confronts the brittle break
as petals silk matures a wrinkled skin
and winter’s snow to bury sins begin —
a fallen cloud the shroud for briar’s wake.
The days of glory sun and ruby rays,
across the skies, these hues were once my own,
beneath the blue above the green, my fling...
dressed not but strands of dew in solstice haze.
When youth was sown my roots were honed in stone —
I died… but I will rise again in Spring!
Receive
Listen
Be Still
Whispered words arriving on teardrops of the wind
They call to me
Embracing me so that I may exhale
For a moment in time
I look down to see the child woman curled up on my lap
Quietly dreaming
I stroke her sleep dampened hair and
Caress her cheek gently with my palm
Oh, child of mine
Allow me to reach in and
Cradle your wounded heart
Let me carry your pain and worry
Stirring, she turns her face revealing
A half-eyed sleepy smile
A gift I have treasured for centuries
Remembering the day
I walked through the trees of time
Lime, emerald, forest green, moss, juniper, ochre, and kiwi
Yellow tinged velvet leaves ride silver breezes
Tree people
Miraculous sacred creatures
Birthed of mother nature
Beckon me onward and inward
Towards water’s edge where moving mirrors of
Intellect and mystery await me
I walk with my companion who rides on my shoulder
The white hawk of my dreams
Narrating our passage through space and time
Howl Howl Howl
Stories above me, monkeys wearing fur
Play and swing
Screeching, flying, and tumbling through the air
Reaching sacred river’s edge
I pause and hear silent footsteps
Of the others joining
I gaze at the flowing water
Reflections of the lost ones float by
Faces of those who have passed from this life
I reach out and kiss each one with my fingertips
All of us gather ~ standing and joining hands
Collectively we reach up towards the heavens
We rise as one
Taking a moment to listen and
Receive grace from one another
A glimpse and a grin are shared
As I squeeze the weathered hand
Of my fellow human
Up Up Up Up
We float above the majestic green canopy
A glorious carpet of
Lavender clouds awaits
The day moon and the day sun kiss
As they watch us rise
A moment of gratitude shared by all
POTD
9/12/2023
In between my autumn and winter years
Time passes without notice, seeking you
In remembrance of our time, through my tears,
Of passions we shared just you and I knew.
I wait until I am with you again…
At times I feel your warm breath on my cheek.
I recall the past that cannot compare,
A moment with you is all that I seek,
Yet memories now are all that I share.
I wait until I am with you again…
I know you’re waiting to welcome me where
Our soul lights will mingle forever more.
With love’s passion I feel you waiting there.
I yearn to be with the man I adore.
I wait until I am with you again…
My hair is now white like the winter snow,
I listen to music we both enjoyed
And my love, still true, continues to grow.
I search the skies and I’m lost in the void.
I wait in love ‘till I’m with you again.
7-9-22
~Poem of the Day July 11, 2022~
Thank you very much Team Poetry Soup
~Ninth Place Premiere Contest~
THE TIME BETWEEN THE SEASONS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
The steadily falling cold August rains
Continue to pour upon Cheshires lanes;
Over flattening fields of soddened wheat,
Soaking the grass, splashing the feet.
Stands the Combine in the shed;
The unripened apples hanging rosy red.
Stands the caped heron all alone -
His glinting eye as cold as stone.
And in amongst the many puddles
We step around like our troubles:
So lurch ahead with our retreat
Like drunken fools in the street.
And through this months darkly frowns
The cleansing downpours wash the towns;
Scrubs the spire from ingrained time -
Absolves the guilt from the crime!
______________
(PoetrySoup Format)
______________
. . . someone like me, sultry and carefree,
becomes excited in tender moments,
simply
anticipating spring, the silhouette of summer
warmth leaves me breathless, and
seasons never cease to be expressive and please
perhaps i’ll imagine the possibilities,
beyond this sweet ache
do you understand the feeling of being windswept,
how i long to escape and frolic ?
( to linger in days of seagulls and sand,
salty air dancing upon luscious lips,
. . . sighing as the moonlight twists its fingertips
through my dirty blonde hair -
tangling its glow, softly and slow
as waves welcome me, in pure ecstasy )
perhaps i’ll imagine the possibilities,
beyond this sweet ache
- - under a pink umbrella basking,
absorbing the radiant atmosphere,
with creamy coconut lotion on sun-kissed skin,
while sculpting sandcastles unevenly, as the tide moves in - -
*sand in sandals *
even the wind, with its soothing melody,
moves distant clouds my way, in hopes to soothe me
perhaps i’ll imagine the possibilities,
beyond this sweet ache
. . . to finally feel, only you
____________________
~ A Romantic Scribble ~
(Longing for warmth)
. . . The season, or your touch ? ? ?
Perhaps both
Undulate on burbling rivers rushing to meet sea,
Buoying spring’s hilarity, ceding to summer’s plea;
Marvel on wings of autumn as falling colors spree,
Rejoice pristine snowflakes adulating winter’s glee;
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
Sail on crest of tides where summer ebbs and flows,
Guide autumn’s journey thrilling season of snows,
Whether lauding sunshine or twilight in shadows,
Whether in blazing colors or woes of wintry throes;
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
Despair not in shudder of shivering naked trees,
For autumn decaying in clasp of wintry freeze,
Sows the seeds sprouting exuberance of spring,
Where, serenading renewal, doting robins sing;
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
Alas! soon blossoms wilt, autumn’s revelry ends,
And unseen remains future where tomorrow bends,
So, grab your today and let its winter day-dream
In the seasons of youth, fond memories redeem.
Waltz with every season strumming life’s themes,
On mountains, in valleys, on prairies, or streams,
Waxing or waning, dreaming beauteous dreams.
July 13, 2022
The Time Between the Seasons Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
......
(PoetrySoup Format)
. . . smooth shades secretly serenade,
blush and blend, to send vivid vivacity.
- a masterpiece in the making -
like a painter posing with a palette,
matching the mood
of cream and Burgundy
**************
Summer shimmers, sharing a savory sweetness,
the sultry Saturn sunrise, swaddles a Sangria sunset
____________
Fall, into me,
beyond the ambiance of Autumn
________________________
like the poised position,
of a poet with a pen,
simply sculpting shapes;
softly scribbling shadows within
------------------
A romantic/seasonal scribble
- Fall into my love, the love and mood of the season -
Perhaps both
Golden light appears in tier after tier
As if Mother Nature were on a spree
Fall's magical splendor each passing year
Transforming the colors of every tree
Colors she chooses are all warmer hues
Flaxen yellow, marmalades and pure reds
Old russet and bright chartreuse to confuse
Over dark forest floors boldly she spreads
Is it winter coming she would deter?
His icy breath blusters as winds blow cold
As in years before — Autumn must demur
Silently wearing her golden blindfold
Like drifting leaves that fall by the roadway
We'll return to life some wonderful day
My
breath
shivers under
a rug of loneliness,
a sleepy heart huddles
against such memories
of togetherness and not of
goodbyes, hating to disperse
the fiery rhymes of your lips,
as well as the warmth of its
sweat...tastes like red wine,
then it beats...and beats
gently, as it envisions
you, in an early
misty
s
p
r
i
n
g
spring wakens my tree -
a bejeweled perfumed bride. . . .
love birds make their nest
summer’s yellowed lawn
beneath my tree’s sombrero. . . .
grass breathes sweet relief
fall’s quick change artist -
from green to gold to crimson. . . .
disrobed, my tree naps