Seasons Imagism Poems | Examples
These Seasons Imagism poems are examples of Imagism poems about Seasons. These are the best examples of Imagism Seasons poems written by international poets.
Woodland to saunter
Braced up across hilltops,
Tendrils of leaves curl like locks
Fresh the mist sprinkling my face.
An airspray of radiant mist
Flows on her grasses evergreen
Till birdland stirs and whistles..
Joy in her field's embrace.
Velvet lays on ground
My dream-like eyes twinkle,
While blooms come dancing
A raucous merry-go-around;
The light tap on the skin,
Curious heart so ravenous
Through every magical whim.
Somewhere to surrender,
Melting down my cheeks
Upon the forest floor
The nature of my inner beast
Drips from thrill of wonder
From rare absence of reason,
A moment where innocence drifts
In wilderness ' arms blessing seasons,
The childlike creature in me
Soars into ladders of bliss!
Before midnight ticks, I turn to my
interior world ,
One that cradles myrhh
of reminisces and sagas,
Allowing breaths to inhale the agony
and radiance of loved ones' trails
now beyond my physical reach--
Watching the decrepit portraits on
the foyer, July air greets the dew
on blossoms, monarchs flitting in my yard
then fading softly in the shade--
reminding me how age- torn, tattered
past seasons have turned this manor down
I am stilled by the rustle
from maples breathing as if their
whiffs understand my untold ancestry...
Perhaps, I am getting old,
or maybe wise enough
to scrape my pen amid bundled journals,
unearthed by many vintage pages
still to come. And go.
1st place
inside a space where quiet trails
I watch a starscape reel through the night
to taste new charms of heaven's sprawl--
lucent the new light waking laced leaves
like a satin ribbon twirling round;
that in a hush all shadows creep
sailing on an air of unconsciousness:
When the white of.pristine tones cascade
I sleep in the arms of dreams unrefined ...
and let a north star bless my world within.
------
lines culled from:
About Time
A Glorious Alchemy
Resting With Nature
Delightful Things
Playful Chant Of The Wind
Into A Woodland
Dream-like Silhouette
Through All Seasons
Someday
Finding Me
Fall falls…
Draping the world in melodious whispers,
Gentling the spirit, drifting with stillness,
Stirring awake, the wonders of a heart
Who can see beyond the forest’s wise words,
to the world of joy lighted by rustling winds,
undisturbed moments of grace,
beliefs who agree, God Himself has blessed the days
as Autumn leaves its heavy sigh
across the mountains, streams and nights…
Fall falls…
Singing of a star strewn sky who glistens,
alive, too pleasant to pass on by,
without impressions of the pine’s healing,
the laurels and the limbs, boldly moving
from the warmth of noon to twilight’s bruise,
lingering on the edge of a sensation,
fleeing the heartbreak, collecting joy
for the spirit’s consideration, the soul
flooded with the sound of beautiful, praying
praising so even the wind feels weary
of the sun’s shedding its tears,
restoring the burgundy tendrils of a heart
who can hear….
Fall falls…
and, I bleed crimson trails,
among the rust, gold and amber,
following the edge of September…
Written, September 13, 2024
For the I Form - Imagism Poetry Contest
Sponsor, Constance La France
Quote: Childhood is the most beautiful of all life's seasons." By Poet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sight of the emerald lawn is exquisite_
lavender and azure threads intertwine,
elegantly placed in lines of budding leaves,
and young kids play and race with endless zest,
their upholstery is spread out in the yard.
And boxes laden with meals that Mama stuffed,
between biscuits, milk, cheese, jelly, and loaf,
Sunday outdoor activities are unforgettable.
“Some stars are frozen within the shades of shifting seasons, yet the grief of love, etched in acrylic gold, whirls through the sunlight, dressed in grim mists, echoing endless memories of a timeless romance” Quote By Poet
I feel the frozen sigh of an aching sunset,
as the warm mustard dews of moving mists~
softly stroke the sapphire fringes of
silent seas, singing somber songs
into the rain-kissed skyline,
heavy with onyx tears of angst,
like a withering black rose,
mourning within a mahogany casket,
locked away with sorrowful memories,
embalmed in hues of hurling hailstorms.
Perhaps somewhere between splitting gusts
and gales of grief, sullen sunflowers remain trapped,
as souvenirs dusted with greying greens of a broken September.
For every autumn holds a narrative,
lost between the dusky views of drizzling leaves,
and I will forever bloom from an opaque mirage,
listening to the fading forests~
whisper woeful odes to the wistful wind.
(A Palindrome)
New changes beginning through seasons circling nature circling seasons through beginning changes new.
Wintery winds with snow cold and icy and cold snow with winds wintery.
Grey are skies overhead while rain pelts rain while overhead skies are grey.
Change in season brings spring warming winds warming spring brings season in change.
Budding flowers do bloom abundantly everywhere abundantly bloom do flowers budding.
Suns sizzling hot summers blue sky with sky blue summers hot sizzling suns.
Daily sunbaking and swimming is enjoyed is swimming and sunbaking daily.
Leaves falling off stripped branches heralds autumn heralds branches stripped off falling leaves.
Nights become cooler as winter draws nearer draws winter as cooler become nights.
Constantly mother earth is changing colour changing is earth mother constantly.
A feast of eye-catching hues swirl midair,
stoic fragile leaf a chill whisper,
overt orange, deep vein red,
pallid yellow, scaly amber,
jumble upon bright clad jumble,
earthbound mattress on a grey mud plot,
bald cypress, Norway maple,
crepe myrtle, pin oak,
shed their raw-hewn splintered twig,
amid the waning sun in bleak morph,
late August and September tread,
damp weather bashful pilgrimage,
acorn mulch stuck between the grooves,
of rugged footwear on limp moss,
along harvest ripened pastures,
hardy toilers lay their white ash scythe,
they reap, gather and proudly stack,
turnips, pumpkins, squash, beet, zucchini,
lifeblood to thriving market square,
rustic idyl diet, whetstone oven backdrop,
whiffs of healthful soup simmering,
bowls scraped, hunger sated,
red ember coal fire glows,
aromatic haze taunt the frozen nose,
symbolic fall eon meter pending,
still a buoyant risen spirit
Soft skies of blue and ivory
Circling the planet of light and ebony
Colored eyes enthralled by the cold of the night
Waving lightning mantled by fright
Winds embracing acquiescent bodies so bleak
Unshielded pillars of the strong, not weak
Grounds bracing the faithful with might
Bounds of serenity awaits so light
From His numen all wonders come in piece
Bodies and souls live and die with peace!
Aching cold in swirling grey,
damp, wet, sharp within the freeze.
The loud retort of battering winds.
But then the silence...
a soundless crystal expanse.
The timeless, endless halt
of all things storm and damage.
A pristine genisis emerges
on the knife -edge of the instant.
scarlet streaks of fair haired beauty across my transparent window
eager inspection shows ribbons of orange a bubble of yellow
new hampshire’s elms, oaks and sycamores are bursting
I feel humbled by the ultimate painter’s canvas
this ethereal painting cannot be replicated by mere man
squirrel stands for one second; is he admiring the scenery?
he pounces on walnut and is immediately rolled by an opponent
they scamper up the tree’s bark in a diagonal dance
other seasons cannot hope to compete with beauty of November
WILLOWS
Willow rise and flourish —
A verdant contrast
To summer’s sun-blanched sky —
Lifting your branches ever high,
But then curving, draping
In arcs on down, with your leaves
So set like rows of tears
In a passion of falling
Over the contours
Of Mother Nature’s cheeks..
Inviting my spirit to sympathetically
Identify
The symbolic, extending
Willows grown within me,
Created to mature
With all the stories and storms
Of my life’s passing seasons.
————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 6/25/22
Thanks be to God
** Winter’s Last Surprise **
How strange it seems
Being within a few days of Spring
To see the landscape
All covered in white!
How odd it feels
For all the trees’ branches
With all their twigs, too, showing
Every tip accentuated
— Ready to bud
Open to Spring —
But now how so jarring
To see the frigid air’s blanket
Of snow fallen
Heavily over everything…Is this a
Wanting act by Winter,as if
It were wishing to kill
The early-risen daffodils? To
Infuse despair into
Winter-weary trees along with
All the early green
Of the ground being turned white?
And, too, we must wear our gloves
Yet one more morning, going out
To clear the cars and walks
Of this snowfall’s final hoorah.
How much more marvelous will feel
The opening days of Spring’s clear,
Soft, azure blue skies!
——————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 3/12/22
Thanks be to God
A Robin Redbreast, as conspicuous as a crimson drop of blood,
stands out against an alabaster landscape of Winter's white.
While hunting for worms, it starts scratching
at small patches of green grass and sprouting snowdrops.
And its persistence pays off, for to my astonishment,
I watch Nature's magician pull a rabbit from a hat, so to speak,
wrestling a wriggling worm from freshly thawed earth.
My first sighting of a Robin this spring
brings a smile to my otherwise dreary day;
recalling that old cliché, the early bird gets the worm.
I sing the coming of winter's cold
From the north, the harsh winds blow
The spreading drifts of pure white snow
And stories true, or so I'm told,
Of courting days when old folks young
Went sleighing bundled for chilly eve
While sharing thoughts they long believed,
Singing songs they wanted to be sung.
The wonder of snowflakes falling fast
With icicles growing on bush and bough
And not neglecting the icy eyebrow
Soon brings eve's cuddling warm at last.
Then quickly home to share the place
Where crackling logs accept their fate
Where lips are warmed with the chocolate
And memories are made with love and lace.
Written February 15, 2021
for Open Poetry 2 Contest
Sponsored by Charlotte Puddifoot
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