Milder Poems | Examples

haiku

milder days and nights
more frequent pollen showers
newly built bird nests

Autumn girl forever

Here is a poem requested on my Instagram account daisymeadows2023. Autumn was the topic chosen by bunnersgram.

AUTUMN GIRL FOREVER

I am an Autumn girl forever,
Autumn, I always wish to see,
Even in the milder weather.
The trees put on their Autumn clothes,
Bright orange and red flames on the leaves,
Golden yellow hues glows.
It's such a beautiful site. 
There's whispers of the breeze gently blows,
The changing of the seasons,
Create such a beautiful show!
Astounding nature in Autumn,
So mesmerising to go and explore,
The days still warm enough and light nights
Days like these, I wish for more!
The beautiful colours of Autumn all around,
The wonderful hues of the leaves,
Conkers and acorns, I have found.
Whenever Autumn is upon us,
Stop for a minute and remember me,
I am the Autumn girl forever,
I will remain in Autumn,
Because that's where I want to be!

Lamppost Aglow

lamppost flickers soft
inviting a slumber deep
amidst taps of crystal mist.

outside, skyscape flaunts its view
to pinpoint evening , aglow...
lamppost flickers soft.

wrapped in quilt,
thoughts milder gently slip by
inviting a slumber deep.

chants this nocturne
where lullabies hover low
amidst taps of crystal mist.

Come Winter

When will it be that it’s my time to go?
I see all the signs in the air. 
Must I wait through storms til there’s nothing but snow,
or is there a milder path there?

When I was young, I never spent time
nor took any thought just to sit by and think. 
I guess there was no need when weather was fine,
but seasons have passed in a blink. 

But somehow there’s comfort here watching leaves fall,
though they be the last on the tree. 
For I had the chance to experience it all. 
May winter’s snow soon set me free.

Colors of Spring

The last snow of winter
blown by the wind
bares the gray
of branches to the sun
pregnant with buds.
Is it spring?

Testing spring 
torpid from the winter
sleepy tiny buds
hesitant of the wind
search for the sun
between stalks of gray

A flash of red among the gray
a robin singing spring 
drinking the sun
snow melt of winter
unfettered by the wind
shaking the buds

Softens around the buds
warmed by the sun
the frozen clay of winter
helped by the gray
showering clouds of spring
and milder wind

With gentler wind
and warming sun
the colors of spring
unfold in the opening buds
after the long gray
days of winter

Good-bye winter winds
Gray days without sun
Hello new buds of festive spring

Just the Usual

Spring has long taken off
its Bermuda shorts.
Hawaiian shirts are left
on tree-lines to fade
under a red-faced sun.
If there are worms in the dry earth
the Robins cannot reach them,
and now scramble after
bugs on baking walls.
No one complains
except the English
and polar bears.
Hardship in America
is just called climate.
In Gentlemen's Clubs
strippers
have turned-off the stage lights,
sweat flop
cannot hold a slippery dollar.
Motel ice-machines
have succumbed to heatstroke
and only dispense
a crunchy tepid drool.
Global warmers pant
for cold beers.
Armageddon is near,
but in pats of Alaska, 
summer
is just called
a milder shade of winter.

Seasoned

I used to claim, I'm just getting old til
a friend said, "no, seasoned", with a gentle scold.
It does sound better. I must admit, but am still
pondering which spices fit?
Was I seasoned by the sea with its salty air?
Am I spiced by my anger which at times flares?
Was I peppered by my individual journey, and all
of those people who influenced me?
Are those milder spices acquired with time, like
a touch of coriander, or a pinch of thyme?
I'm hoping to acquire a taste for sage as I
could certainly use some at this ripe old age.

Something Is Missing

                        Something is missing from our winter days
            which seem irregular from former years.
This is mysterious in many ways-
although convenient, winter has changed gears!
                        Here in our Hudson Valley, New York State,
scant dustings of light snow we've seen to date!
No ice on ponds where country folk could skate!
      The temps each day are warmer than before-
            buds waking up! Such fair clime can't ignore!           
                        A milder winter- should we ask for more?
But wait! Our March is gearing up her phase!
            Will she make up for what's kept in arrears?
      Should we stand by for blizzards at her gate?
            Let's see what fickle March will have in store!


February 23, 2023

Premiere Contest: Fragmented Rhyme
Sponsor: Emile Pinet

Checked With RZ and HMS

The World and Me

It is gratifying that, 
    Words still have simpler forms,
And feelings still have milder versions.
That seasons still change,
And I get to soak up the sun everyday.

How I know,things most don't,
And jauntily skip the world that don't recognize me.
How I can love,
And know my heart's bigger,
                   my sky's bigger,
                   my smile's bigger,
Than those petty bundles of flesh and bones will ever know
         The world for me isn't just a place,
          It's a mother's love,
          A young girl's dreams,
          A dead man's wish to be reminisced,
          Sweet summer breeze,
          A bouquet of tulips,
          A child's curiosity,
      Not merely a story,an allegory.

The World and Me

It is gratifying that, 
    Words still have simpler forms,
And feelings still have milder versions.
That seasons still change,
And I get to soak up the sun everyday.

How I know,things most don't,
And jauntily skip the world that don't recognize me.
How I can love,
And know my heart's bigger,
                   my sky's bigger,
                   my smile's bigger,
Than those petty bundles of flesh and bones will ever know
         The world for me isn't just a place,
          It's a mother's love,
          A young girl's dreams,
          A dead man's wish to be reminisced,
          Sweet summer breeze,
          A bouquet of tulips,
          A child's curiosity,
      Not merely a story,an allegory.

The World and Me

It is gratifying that, 
    Words still have simpler forms,
And feelings still have milder versions.
That seasons still change,
And I get to soak up the sun everyday.

How I know,things most don't,
And jauntily skip the world that don't recognize me.
How I can love,
And know my heart's bigger,
                   my sky's bigger,
                   my smile's bigger,
Than those petty bundles of flesh and bones will ever know
         The world for me isn't just a place,
          It's a mother's love,
          A young girl's dreams,
          A dead man's wish to be reminisced,
          Sweet summer breeze,
          A bouquet of tulips,
          A child's curiosity,
      Not merely a story,an allegory.

Goodbye and Thanks

Goodbye fellow Poetry Soupers
It’s time to change my ways,
Time to adjust my life for the
Coming longer, milder days.
There are weeds to be pulled,
Seeds to be sown,
Hedges to be clipped,
Grass to be mown, 

Walks to be walked, 
Friends to be seen,
Places to be revisited,
New places I’ve not been.
Winter sloth is over 
Time for life to get back underway
Time again to start achieving
My ten thousand steps a day. 

Time to get back more
To the way things have been
Time to spend less hours 
Before an Apple monitor screen.
So, goodbye fellow , Soupers,
I've really enjoyed my stay
But all things in time must end.
It's time for me to be on my way.

Nature Glows In Autumn

Across the meadow of goldenrod blooms,
I listen as Autumn's wind sings a melody.
A sweet song for the soul in majestic notes
as withering leaves tumble to the ground
creating a lush carpet of russet and scarlet.

Cattails have dried along the pond's edge.
I hear morning songbirds as they take wing,
upon long flights to a milder climate. 
I shiver from the slight chill in the air
but soon the sun's fingers will touch me.
I'll welcome their warmth and to it I'll cling.

I've arrived at the orchard, with basket in hand.
Apples to become pies, await my picking.
It's the time of harvesting ripened fields.
In every view of Autumn, I see nature's glow.

Autumn paints her canvas with bold colors
and her beauty abounds upon Mother Earth.
It's a bittersweet season of cascading leaves,
but one whose scenes are etched in my mind.
It's the gloriously golden time of the year.


December 17, 2022
Still-Life Autumn Scene Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper

Real Dream

Not living in harsh reality
       all time... let's look for
      realism in a milder dream...

Autumn Walks

I have loved these evening walks
through smoldering reeks,
ankle deep in haunted litter.
Loved
the flicker of mottled hawks,
flaming across a waterborne sky,
the soft mats of moss upon late shadows,
the silver shimmer of small paw prints
in muddy puddles.
Those sweet smells, the spilled decay
and grace of newly wilted flora,
overripe and yet tingling with scented airs. 
A gilded leafage heaped only to be scattered
by a fresh-faced wind.
Slippery sidewalks painted russet,
the gold vapor of milder sunsets
as an easeful light drips from twig and branch.
Gilded threads of smoke winding through hedgerows,
mist trails sliding under warm breath,
these I have loved.

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