Winter Italian Sonnet Poems | Examples
These Winter Italian Sonnet poems are examples of Italian Sonnet poems about Winter. These are the best examples of Italian Sonnet Winter poems written by international poets.
She, who had seemed my sun some bygone time,
feels now much icier than even far
forsaken pluto’s sunless hemisphere.
Please! reckless Universe! enable rhyme
to unriddle unreason’s paradigm!
—The frozen side of the sun!—What bizarre
world bears such contradiction? Bringing near
fire and frost? both deform eachother’s frame!
And so: she never was my flame—nor now
my glacial winter—.No, she simply was
a human hurting, a someone hurting
me.—a cornered creature caught converting
an inward chatter(,adisconcertingbuzz,)
whichever way her body would allow.
The leaves of autumn blush in crimson hue,
A farewell whispered soft to summer's grace,
As golden light descends to take its place,
And forests don their robes of rusted dew.
The winds of change bring forth a chill anew,
In amber tones the trees their fate embrace,
Each branch prepares to face the winter’s face,
As bare as truth when time has come to view.
But in the silence of the winter’s reign,
The roots hold fast beneath the frozen crust,
For spring will thaw what winter dared restrain.
Though branches sleep, the earth remembers trust,
Awaiting life to course through them again,
And sing once more, as every tree must.
#ItalianSonnet#
From the chimes settling morning—
Another time, another change
I slept in your clothes yesterday;
The break in brass and sleep numbing
Red blur— buried color, holding
The lasting eyes in my love's grave—
Would this dawn, you could only stay,
Instead heaps of morning glories
Summer beats down, passing morning
On from our daydreams in the night.
Your ghost on some green there walking,
In shadows and flowers besides.
Winter, approach as ice now freed—
Our love for time, distance of chimes.
Midst the flit wandered mist of lame Autumn
tethered vestige suns, seas a riverbed
failed wanton seasons a whole third it saved
absence to course unforgiving outcome
to no avail, tooth and nail have they none
in favored sway Summer's full weight reversed
subtle eve of Earth's slumbered leaves embraced
whilst silhouette's danse, scales seized near bottom.
The flicker of light dew quench the needy
flora and fauna famished and focused
tour past the befallen qualm in despair
flits a blue, grey encumbered white-knotty,
the beaten lain quietude art dye cast
Wicket's Gate, windswept free ... Winter is here.
The maple, beech, the willow, ash and oak -
abundant are the trees that shed their leaves,
and in the spring, the goddess Flora weaves
her magic, vanishing cold winter’s cloak.
Sometimes the roots of shade trees need a soak.
A tree in drought most gratefully receives
the summer rains. By autumn it achieves
sheer brilliance. Memories autumn days invoke.
Like trees deciduous are people too.
With warmth we flourish. Also we are green,
not having lived our lives yet for too long.
Through summer more of life we can pursue.
By fall, we’re colored by all that we’ve seen.
Then winter comes, and life we can’t prolong.
Leaves leave deciduous trees in the Fall.
continue shedding at its earliest.
Festival on completion of harvest.
Azure sky ready for Autumn to call.
Maple , apple, cherry, pear, oak as seen
to conserve water at Winter - crisis.
needed by them for photosynthesis.
shedding leaves at end of growing season
Diffuse-porous wood anatomy owned,
these trees using proteins stored in roots.
and inner bark from last year's foliage
as nitrogen source for new leaves be grown.
Nascent leaves are retrieved by getting boost.
Deciduous trees have normal storage.
Once newly shaped, when buds do open up.
Unfurling sense, one’s eyes of Spring arise.
A mother-oak, her branches grasp bird-cries.
The leaves ring bell, the beaks do come to sup
And sip, foliage turns into a cup.
The soar-uplift of the branches - owls, wise.
The nestled memories, these are the highs.
Autumn wind-verve and ink decree break up.
Down, down into the pile of yellow, reds,
Orange and brown. Up, up, the kids do pop.
Such fun as oaks bluster about and lose
Their trimming sooth, do bend and shake their heads.
Winter with caps seize those so bald on top.
Those frozen trees, seasoned, with diff’rent views.
Trees absorb autumn’s color spectrum bright,
paint the leaves with crimson and golden glow.
The gilded leaves leave the brown boughs fallow
of the stripped deciduous trees upright,
dancing to the swan song of winter white.
Decay disguises revival, they know.
Spring returns with spur of resurgent show,
in tawny trees new leaves sprout in delight.
Storm of gloom wrecks my heart, turns it bare tree.
Dismal dusk descends with the sunset sky,
remembers the sun sinks to again rise.
I will wait for my spring to revive me.
From distress dust Phoenix’s rise, I’ll descry
at dawn of renascence with no surprise.
I'm raised in SoCal, calm weather agrees,
and you, from Boston, know weather, severe.
Our states of mind match these climates I fear.
Like Winter sadness, leaves fall from your trees,
and then I'm missing those green absentees.
Like Summer, a hot flare up may appear.
The reasons are celestially unclear.
Oh, how will I deal with moods such as these?
Deciduous trees, specialists in change -
variety and beauty they will bring.
These shifts do add the color to my life,
as days with you I would never exchange.
In Winter, I am sure there will be Spring,
and I'm happy that I made you my wife.
DECIDUOUS
My leaves are memories of an earlier time
As in the scheme of things, I’ll heed the call
And when the season comes, I let them fall
But nature offers just that kind of rhyme
To keep them are as steps I cannot climb
And winter in my mind, it builds a wall
My thoughts may fade with farewells to them all
Each functional and handsome in their prime
I’m sad when I accept they have to go
To lie there still, or flutter in the breeze
Such recollections really cannot last
Yet golden as they were, it’s time, I know
I sense that I am resonant with trees
My mind now bare of everything that’s passed
On my heart, a winter swathed
palm
Her spring flowers only right for
When chill itself dons out windblown—
Attached there by my faithful arm.
Green there and here tell on you soft,
Your story's places in the snow—
While meek flakes sleep on my
breastbone—
From your heart, I shake only warmth.
The spring's time to melt frozen gauze,
My whisper in the landing seen
On ice's shine to you,
magical
The winter sun— winter's end be,
When the looking snow further falls—
Our intercession, heart-to-heart.
Beguiling spring, how bold your arrogance
You shameless season painted in conceit
Parading up and down each city street
O'er hill, through dale, you flaunt your elegance
Each tree, each flower, bathed in decadence
Each gale, each breeze, your moods so indiscreet
Each dawn you send your birdsong out to greet
A vain display of your benevolence
And yet each year we welcome your return
With song and poem, we celebrate your style
We rush to be the first to photograph
A daffodil, a bud, a waking fern
You always make that winter wait worthwhile
On every heart you leave your autograph.
Daniel Turner
Wild grasses of my springtime heart unmown,
unruly, unrestrained, in silence grew.
Youth’s fierce infatuation madly blew
its untamed gales where tall, green blades had grown.
Fair birds of transient love have long since flown –
that tale’s dark thread unraveled. Segue to
the stunning, breathless moment I met you
and found the ageless love I’d never known.
As autumn yields to winter, hair recedes
brown-gray, and once-hard muscles dormant lie;
our fathomless love-light remains undimmed.
Spring’s passions redirected, naught impedes
love’s resolute commitment. You and I
adore our beautiful lawn, neatly trimmed.
I’ve gone outside to sit nearby my tree,
which bloomed this April, and on the first day!
With pen in hand (the good old-fashioned way)
I pause – to let impressions come to me.
More than a blushing willow do I see.
The thing most striking is that winter’s grey
has vanished! In its place, a vast array
of nature’s jade gives spring green majesty!
The dingy cloak of winter now is gone.
My eyes adore the jewelry of spring -
the leaves and grass of emerald and on
my pretty tree, in sunlight glittering -
those rose quartz gems! Right now above my lawn,
from beaded boughs, a bird begins to sing!
April 8, 2018
For Brian Strand's 'LATE APRIL 2018 PREMIERE CONTEST,ANY FORM OR NONE,ANY THEME,UPTO A MAX OF 20 lines' Poetry Contest
Today, the long lost sun plays peekaboo,
prodding patches of snow to evaporate.
Green tinges on trees faintly accentuate
bare branches with a halo effect in view.
Yawning yellow daffodils nod and protrude,
after egregiously succeeding to navigate
winter weather alerts sent to intimidate.
Tornadoes rage in April's snowstorms too.
Lackadaisical plant growth from lack of light
fosters fortuitous environmental confusion.
Steady streams of daylight spurn roots to incite
trees and flowers to bloom almost overnight.
Animals shedding winter fur is not an illusion.
Awaiting spring tends to aggravate and delight.
April 7, 2018
Italian/Petrachan Sonnet
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