Long Natureautumn Poems
Long Natureautumn Poems. Below are the most popular long Natureautumn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Natureautumn poems by poem length and keyword.
"shhhhh.....shissssssh"
"be quiet"...whispered
"Can you hear that?"
.
.
"What is that sound?"
Is it far...a faraway
train whistle lonesome
from song of mainline?
Is it the soft ting
of the tea kettle
cooling on the stove,
bending it's metal?
"What is that sound?"
It is the slow creak
of old wooden chairs
as mortise and tenon
slowly adjust, torqued
to a shifting weight.
Could be a mantle
clock tiptoe ticking
away Sunday afternoon.
Why don't they make
digital clocks tick?
Is it that catlike scratch
of the Autumn branch
gently scraping the window?
"What is that sound?"
It is the hushed hum
of computer fan lulling
a digital brain.
The Venetian blinds
rhythmically tap half-open
double-hung windows.
The vibrating whir
of some electric motor
compressing or orbiting
the periodic table.
Mountains of Quaking Aspen
leaves relaxing the winds.
When is alone welcome
and when is it forlorn?
The weight of near silence,
light as the dust that
floats the sunlit room,
or heavy as a cardiac
anvil under ancient
spreading Chestnut tree.
Did the bell toll at
the village church,
ringing all comers
to awake momentarily, or
was that just tinnitus?
Unable to open eyes,
sounds belie surroundings
and alone might be
fallacy or welcome.
Deceptive senses afoot
in the stirrup, and hammer
tapping anvil might only
be a mindful dream.
© Goode Guy 2011-06-13
'Tis the farm boy in me yet, but I like to see things a-growin',
('Cept pesky weeds of course and the grass that needs a-mowin'!)
As a lad on the farm, tho', I had a very different view,
Since I toiled in the broilin' Hoosier sun tendin' things that grew!
I like to see fields of corn in July standin' green and tall,
Knowin' farmers will reap a bountiful harvest come the fall.
I like to see gentle zephyrs kissin' prairies of golden wheat.
So very much we owe to those who grow the foods we eat!
I like to see red and white grapes a-ripenin' on the vine,
Anticipatin' zinfandels and chardonnays for my dinner wine!
Is there a more appetizin' sight than rows of luscious termaters?
Ah, the miracle of spuds developin' 'neath the vines of pertaters!
I like to see well-tended rows of onions, peas and butter beans,
Carrots, lettuce, peppers, radishes and leafy turnip greens.
Aint' nothin' more elegant than roses sparklin' with dew at dawn,
Or the beauty of peonies, lilies and petunias that adorn my lawn!
In my autumn years I've more time to appreciate the things that grow,
To contemplate, muse and ponder and this I surely know,
'Tis the miraculous Hand of God that rules this celestial ball.
Without His munificent oversight, would anything grow at all?
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Ah! To be a child again and from worry to be free,
To mimic Mister Squirrel and scamper up a tree!
God made trees for climbing by little girls and boys,
And to build a treehouse in, is one of childhood's joys!
Mighty oaks and elms provide other things as well.
They offer welcoming arms in which little songbirds dwell.
With their colorful robes, trees mark the seasons of the year,
And scratch the hides of antelope, buffalo and deer!
In summer time with their decorous leaves of jade,
Sycamore and ash offer a very welcoming shade.
Maple, beech and linden beautify countryside and towns.
Lofty pines provide a resting place for eagles on their crowns!
We share with God's many creatures His bountiful largesse,
The fruit of the apple, orange, and pear trees, and yes,
Peaches, nuts and apricots, such a myriad of trees,
Soothing us with sighing soughs at every gentle breeze!
The aspen upon a mountain steep is a beauty to behold,
'Specially in the autumn when it dons its gown of gold.
God charges us to be good stewards of His sacred lands.
May we ever respect the trees and treat them as old friends!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 1 in Kim Morrison's "Nature The Popular Theme" Contest - May 2013
The Summer was coming to an end
As the colours of the trees now speak
So I headed to my little clearing in the woods
Saddened that they have lost their peak
But other views excite me
As I look to the greens turning brown
There are butterflies on their very last flight
As the leaves form a golden gown
But this is much more than a clearing
It's a magical mystical place
If your quiet enough and you are in the right spot
You will be lucky enough to be graced
For against the backdrop of the forest
An image so rarely seen
In majestic pose this mythical beast
Can be seen through the fading green
Every time it makes an appearance
The Autumn fairy enters the scene
Swirling the leaves as she spins in a dance
The unicorn is not just a dream
The leaves now begin to settle
Like a jigsaw they carpet the ground
Toadstools stand proud in ripened pose
As I marvel at nature's surround
My eyes now scout the peripheral
I see a fox, and elves in the trees
To see what I have seen on this end of Summers day
If your not with me, there's just no guarantee
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-15.php
Rains fall down on me
Torrential thoughts flood my mind
Forever and all time
Rains fall.
Words flow out from me
Exalted rivers from my mind
Forever and all time
Words flow.
Sun shines upon me
Warming my body and mind
Forever and all time
Sun shines.
Moon rises behind me
Casting shadows on the doubts in my mind
Forever and all time
Moon rises.
Love comes slowly to me
Passion joins my heart and mind
Forever and all time
Love comes.
Children laugh and play
Spring brings a rebirth of my mind
Forever and all time
Children laugh and play.
Winds blow all around me
Bringing Summer changes into my life
Forever and all time
Winds blow.
Leaves change with my moods
Colors of Autumn fill my mind
Forever and all time
Leaves change.
Snow flies about me
Beautiful winter fills my mind
Forever and all time
Snow flies.
Death arrives to take me
Takes my body and mind
Forever and all time
Death arrives.
(January 26, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Walking home from work, one windy autumn eve
I noticed some workmen sweeping up leaves,
The more leaves they swept, the more the wind blew
So I stopped to watch for a moment or two
One man swept the leaves into piles on the street
But the wind would sweep them from under his feet,
Another put the leaves into sacks that he had
I thought the whole scene was comically sad
Mother Nature had worked hard, for most of the year
Producing the leaves on the trees for us to share
Now they were being swept away without a care
As the wind blew the leaves away again, I was glad.
Perhaps the wind was Mother Nature’s only way of fighting back
She didn’t want to be reduced to life within a sack
To go from splendour, to squalor, in the space of just one season
She wasn’t going to disappear, not without good reason
The wind blew again, with all of its might
That’s when the workmen gave up for the night
As they packed their tools and left the scene, I carried on for home
The wind began to die away; Mother Nature’s fight was won.
The sky is grey then yet
the sun’s rays still prevail
in shining light on to colour
deprived land.
The trees have shed their leaves,
they litter the dark ground almost
hiding a dark secret of what is
hidden beneath.
The wind blows scattering leaves
making them swirl on the ground
covered in a sea of brown.
Butterflies are my only company
in this gloomy and sombre land
they provide the only colour
alighting the memories of more
happier times;
no sound emits for no animal walks
on this land except myself.
My footsteps are muffled by the dead
leaves, they softly crunch under
my delicate feet.
My silk dress twirls in the wind as
I walk, my exposed skin becomes red
by the cold air making goosebumps
thrive upon my soft silken skin.
My thoughts are sad for I remember
the days when the land flourished
dominated by an ocean of colour then
yet here I stand in a ghostly land
with nothing but the wind and a few
beautiful butterflies for company
for the autumn mist has engulfed
the essence of colour and life.
The armada sailed before my
eyes, crispy autumn leaves in
the evening breeze. Into the
mist of the cooling pool, away
on a voyage of serenity
The watching reeds and sedge
wave farewell, the damsel and
the dragonflies in harmony sang
their goodbyes.
And the evening crept silently
dragging its cloak and diamond
skies, over hedge and stile, offers
sleep to this once sun kissed land.
But the moon has her friends,
who walk and fly her calm. Live
the safety of the night and the
daylights hunters eye.
The pitter patter of tiny feet, the
bats transparent wing against the
moon and reynards silent stalk.
Sit quiet listen and the night
comes to life, the owls glide,
the grass snakes slide, branches
gossip in the breeze, hedgehogs
grubbing as the foxglove rings
the hour.
The petals fold and sleep, the
willow with soft dew weep, and
in the peace the spider plucks
his web and serenades the
silver clouds as the land lies
deep in the heart of serenity.
Morning’s misty mourning lays her shroud upon the lake
With imprinted recollections at the end of autumns break
Copper shades reflected though the hazy hanging veil
Foretell with pastel palette of the coming winters tale
The bracing northern wind that sweeps the cobwebs from the shore
Allows the reeds and grasses to resume their dance once more
As the ripples on the glass lake lend tranquillity respite
and stir the dormant waterfowl, raising mute swans into flight
The distant purple mountains, like sentinels hold fast
Vanguards in the distance, they withstand first winters blast
In apprehensive mode the lake, awaits the coming snow
As winters threatening message warns the vale with icy blow
The autumn leaves forsake the trees, who brace themselves for war
In naked stark defiance, standing gaunt along the shore
The busy boats that bravely bobbed in bustling summer ranks
Now cling like mussels to the shore upturned on the banks
As I turn a cycle Autumn falls
Where the trees stand so tall
There handsome brances now lay naked
There leaves dropped there crispness forsaken
Children run through the path
bedded grounded leaves
For oh they please.....
A pleasing sight to any eye
Colours of richness like the mind on fire
Deepest red ,golden gold,cats eyes of green
Shades of delight under the moonlight
Even sets passion to all senses
The stolen perfume
That smells like blossom to bloom
Its tones would decorate any room......
Out with the old in with the new
Swept grounds making way for two
We dream of spring its sparkle may bring
Even the baby birds will sing
Freshness from stalemate
A new beginning of natures fate
The path way clear to clear
Its journey long but so near
but so ready to appear of dearest of dear......
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