Long For all seasons Poems
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how soft is thy land to buy in hand
with one but yet common armor
fought against with yee farmer
breathing for glory amongst enemy
a feeling of as if i belong to thy land
a lang thou art never sensed like thee
wit and brave risk taking nerve
fear not my child thou art to serve
tears yet to fled from that child's bed
years in the eyes to enemies dept
no sword no war yet glory call
years later anxious wrath brought back
what once was past
and all but speaking wounds blast
to raise and thunder games begin
love then resides in fane
and world by all lands become sane
for a flower that's yet of vain
marriage behold them all
in secret still to fall
for all seasons to roll
and reach somewhere so tall
then haze and mist in darkness
shed upon air
leaving leaves dry and fare
a brides death rises to breathe
and anger to all bounds prepare
to invade and slaughter to what
once a heart a daughter
was to bear' remains
to all rebels the heart prevails
to fight and stand for each Scots fate
forever remember thy heart brave
Flowers affirm my constant love for you.
Sweetheart, prepare to receive these
from January to December:
carnation, violets
daffodils, daisies
hawthorns, roses
buttercups, gladiolus
aster, marigold
chrysanthemum, hollies...
Never will I let oblivion
vanquish my vow*...
So help me, God.
( A https://www.pinterest.com/pin/578431145904755821/ and 40 words)
*Ecclesiastes 5:5 Better is it that thou shouldest not vow, than that thou shouldest vow and not pay.
July 29, 2022
2nd place, "Short verse inspired by pictures" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Lisa YY; judged on 8/9/2022.
Love wears a face
For all seasons;
Finesse fills space
For sure reasons.
Love comes to heal
The hurts and pains;
Abides in feel
In stress and strain.
Love gives new zest
In ups and downs;
Allows bold quest
To bear all frowns.
Love sows a seed
In space and time;
Aligns sure speed
To sync bold rhymes.
Love breathes a pulse
To weary souls;
To cast impulse
In a new whole.
Love stays the same
When fate seems harsh;
Love feeds the flame
In life's rough marsh.
Love lives to tell
A tale of hope;
That faith may dwell
To sculpt fine scope.
Leon Enriquez
24 December 2014
Singapore
Broken Ways Of Yesterdays
From broken ways of yesterdays and pain so deep inside me.
Four walls and a ceiling, it's where I went to hide me.
With shades all drawn and hope all gone I sat there in the dark.
The flame that burned within me, reduced to just a spark.
Like echoes whispering in the wind I heard the distant call.
Telling me it's time to go, so I got down to crawl.
I made my way through shadows that kept me safe at night.
Until at last I found myself, I made it to the light.
I heard a voice though not by choice I felt it all begin.
Telling me I simply must, learn to rise again.
With broken in my body, no strength left in my soul.
I began to stand once more and relinquished my control.
He lifted me and gifted me, He gave me words to say.
The reasons for all seasons, and why I'm here today.
To tell the tales not long ago I suffered such despair.
I turned around not looking down and saw Him hanging there.
Arms outstretched in love for me, my words at such a loss.
Standing tall down on my knees I knelt before the cross.
"I'll never leave you nor forsake you" I heard the savior say.
I tried I cried through tear filled eyes and I began to pray.
Saving me so long ago now saving me once more.
An attitude of gratitude things aren't like they were before.
Thank you Lord for loving me, I know you loved me first.
Still today Your love is true for You loved me at my worst.
Edwin C Hofert
`````~```~`````
lightly tattered ribbons still smooth as silk
flowered appliqués lightly pressed on soft brocade
of tangerine, mint and blue and white milk.
wide-brimmed hat of memories that will not fade
snuggling my wind-blown mane through seasons’ shade
treasured top gear worn at beaches and balls
sewn by grandma as debut gift from love’s thread
through passing years i frolicked with recalls ,
edged by her heart fluttering deepest red
neatly framed, hat moments still sway on my head
all rights reserved
©
`````````````````````````
(( for Carol Brown's " My Favorite Hat or Bonnet" ))
Whispers from a golden sycamore,
it willingly dispenses green leaf secrets to us souls in autumn phase.
Branches creak but somehow never break despite the brittle onslaughts from an ever changing volatile environment.
Sagacious watchdogs for all seasons whose edges blur with every global warming or zero arctic plummet.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter, surreal reckless slideshows... sideshows upon a wider world that’s scrambling to catchup.
Yet these stoic trees endure our wantoness so bravely,
the foiled attempts at damage limitation, those madcap retro schemes that flop like couch potatoes on a sofa.
Tall and proud they stand with stout forbearance.
Why not give your favorite tree a well-earned hug?
we're all natural born watchers just looking around
at the TV, the Internet and newspapers all over town
be it something or somebody we usually just watch and wait
to look up to anything that may reinforce our faith
be it something constructive or counterproductive
to watch what others do and then try to imitate
to look at success and then try to emulate
the Wise Men, the Magi were 3 men you should look upon
for they knew to follow that star which was on the horizon
yet King Herod who was the ruler of that little town
could not spiritually ascertain what was really going down
he had heard that the nation of Israel would have a new born king
and then he became paranoid and anxious over everything
he was under the impression that God would have told him first
of the Saving Son who was about to appear on earth
God did a new thing in a completely new way
but many missed the true meaning of the birth that day
but the Magi those 3 Wise Men were in step with God
they were spiritually aware of what was about to start
it's not about man's logic, rationale nor reason
for God is the omnipotent One for all seasons
don't let anyone try to diminish the awesomeness of God's might
don't let anyone try to dim the brilliance that is His guiding light
making it great in 2008 by watching what wise men do
making it great in 2008 by believing that God is watching over you
to be struck by the mystery that is God's power
to believe that He is with you at any given hour
to follow that star whenever you hear the angels sings
to trust that God will guide you in everything
there's no need to fear the unknown or what's down the road
just watch what wise men do when they give God total control
by following a star which led them to a child born in a manger
and not to reveal what they found for to tell would have brought danger
and after presenting the gifts and thus fulfilling the prophecy
they left Bethlehem by another way and continued their journey
when God gives a revelation and then tells you to get up and leave
let no one stop nor hinder you from doing what you believe
don't ever put reason before revelation as reason will only go so far
for revelation is the exclamation that will reveal to you a star
so making it great in 2008 by watching what wise men do
and by following that star wherever it leads you to
I am not the perfect poet,
you and I both know it,
though surely we could share,
our time with rhyme and reason,
springtime, snowdrop, couplets,
summer days of sunshine sonnets,
autumnal skies of falling paper leaves,
winters filled with warming verse?
Perhaps I've been too scared,
to tempt, or fraternise with fate,
now having taken too long,
and having left it all so late,
to pen this page,
with words of alliterative verse,
against this world of woe,
where life's adversities seem to get worse,
I'm plucking up the courage now,
to ask if you and me,
could possibly agree,
provided it's not problematic,
provided this is not treason,
that I could somehow be,
your poet for all seasons?
Here I stand. Early so that its dark enough to see the pretty yellow/white shining bright from car headlights – unblinking eyes; watching, waiting, worried. Drawing ever nearer. Complemented by the burning red from the rear of the cars at the opposite end. A warning signal. A timely reminder in the hope that I might be a little kinder.
Start early but late enough so that its light enough for someone to see what im doing for im not sure if a fall will result in my ruin.
But If it so happens that I do take that long awaited plunge will it expunge all that I have done. Those ills and evils inflicted on so many people.
Of course im hoping that a fall from this here height will do me in. Or better still before my bones become acquainted with the stone; the fear itself might do me in. Yes its thoughts like this that make me think im not quite ready for deaths cold kiss. A coward jumping scared in search of an unobtainable bliss.
At times ive stood out on the edge and peered down beyond my feet, staring hard at what I see; my mind convincing me that it is more than just concrete. I jump….
Yet im still here. Stood tall, stood small. An old and ghostly owl afraid to fly for fear of the fall, a fledgling starling with a will to win; having dreamt of flying high before I spread my wings. Yet im way too weak to wet my beak. My thoughts fly wild but I can barely speak.
Here I am. The highest heights. Atop this bridge. A troubled, torn and tired kite in need of one almighty fix. A stitch. A magic needle. Sticky tape to mend my tears. To stop my tears. To blind my eyes. A superglue with flowing cape. To help me fly. To make me strong. A man of steel. To make me feel what ive not felt for way too long.
I watch the sun rising over the distant horizon. A patient ascent. Banishing the night’s last black brushstrokes swept across the sky so brazen behind my back. A whispered lament. The blinding red and yellow dimmed and soon a fading flicker trying hard to hold my eye. The sun: painting over nights bleak canvas. No task as thankless. Specks of light flicked far. A blanket over self inflicted scars.
Warm, hopeful, kind. Softly burning all the darkness from my mind.
Until next time…
All seasons are enjoyable,
but we can succumb
of so much love before
the summer heat ...
We can let ourselves be contaminated
through the despondency of autumn and stay
tired of idyll ...
But we can put our bones together
and feelings to warm up
the winter cold ...
We shouldn't be exhausted
for the immeasurable pleasures
of spring...
We can live in luxury
all seasons ...
We can save the welfare
of each one and do
the balance...
It's the maxim of life
that we must learn ...!