New England Poems - Poems about New England

Autumn paints New England, staining hillsides, wrapped in red, garnishing the trail beneath my steps. The season spills like cabernet across a changing landscape; where the maples bleed their aging, amber leaves. I stroll amidst the falling flames, below the blazing treetops, the crisp air thick with life, that's soon to rest. I walk through spreading fire, listen to leaves, their stories rustling underfoot– As Autumn’s vivid, vibrant gift prepares to vanish from the view. And...

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Today we observed the sunrise in New England and once again we were agog as we watched that bright orange dot finds it’s pathway through the fog. Next, we walked the Shore Path in Bar Harbor where under a cloud-filled cerulean sky we enjoyed the boats out in the harbor while eating a Red Velvet Whoopie Pie. We took...

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In the quiet twilight, we gather here today, To honor my dad, remember him, and pray. From the promised land, he flew with no regret, To the fifties U.S., a different mindset. In the old world, he wore many hats, even a soldier, Now a young man on a Greyhound bus, bound...

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I offen soffen neether content nor intent, eether explicit or implicit about devices to rearrange things in the Care-ah-beein Sea or pahkin karz...

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A billowing sheet of white geese Trundle across the street Onto grass rich and green From winter melt Black river rolls like a fat man Trying to get outta the way Stumbles and falls On smooth gray rocks And tumbles merrily away Sweet scent of decay passing Cemetery opposite the river Headstones flowing over hills To distant and future days Feet ache a little on...

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You can boast of California, And Hilton Head as well, California’s gotten rotten Florida’s hot as Hell. So let me struggle with the snow, And bundle ‘gainst the cold I’ll live up here in Yankee land Until I’m too damned old. Shoveling’s not much fun, but Winter’s cold and snappy. Watch sledding kids upon a hill. Defines the meaning: ’happy’. Then later, when I’m...

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A TEN MILE DRIVE - I walked a country road once In New England, in October. In a gorgeous colored paradise You’d think you were not sober. - A car approached, my thumb went out He stopped. I boarded, saw the man, And nearly tumbled over. That craggy face, that shock of hair. - T’was Robert Frost who’s driving. Yes, Frost himself. Get in, he said. And so began...

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The sea winds calling Calling beach tides thrilling Thrilling woodlands for hiking Hiking creeks within walking Walking wildlife still sprawling Sprawling plant life enthralling Enthralling cobble...

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“Howdy Amos”, “Howdy Seth”, without a glance. Amos t’aint much for words as he stares straight ahead His gaze as straight as his furrows. Amos is what you might call a “deep thinker”. I watch as he bounces up and down on the plow hitch The bells on his mighty Percherons jingling with each practiced step As they perform their timeworn...

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An icy blast through open door reminds me that he’s here once more. Through softly drifting snowflakes falling I hear the Old Man Winter’s calling. I’m not prepared for his arrival, my chores not done for my survival. As I go through my growing list, I hope there’s something I’ve not missed. Are there things that I forgot, important...

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We used to hike abandoned roads O’er which they once hauled heavy loads. Roads deserted, now ragged lines Just deep ruts between the pines. Stone walls still trace these rugged tracks Defining paths to there and back. Meandering trails now no one roams But long ago they lead to homes No longer there, those long lost souls Their homes in ruins, now...

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I’ve always loved the challenge of traveling long-forgotten byways Just dirt paths connecting towns that masquerade as washboard highways With stone walls crumbling, homes shuttered closed, now seemingly abandoned The hopelessness of poverty oft times seemed very cruel and random One day while driving in Vermont from Rawsonville to South Peru I had a strange experience I’d really like to...

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Though dawn has yet to break upon Dim fields on distant moonlit rise Already stirs the restless herd Soon welcoming dawn’s crimson skies. Through windows lit by twinkling lamps The farmer’s tasks have just begun Another day to work, not play Beneath the blazing noonday sun. Cruel winter past, warm spring at last With fields and gardens to renew As all new seasons add...

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The preacher climbs his lofty perch Looking down on those in church Who’ve come to hear his sermon preached In fiery words his flock beseeched To remind them to their faults bemoan And for their earthly sins atone Words climbing to a fevered pitch He hopes his lesson will help enrich Those who clearly redemption seek And that his words will last all week His...

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In the lonesome woods near Sunapee I spied the perfect apple tree. With ancient trunk, yet in its prime, A thing of beauty, its form sublime. As I approached and looked around, I saw most apples on the ground. Alas, I had arrived too late. The deer had sealed each apple’s fate. And yet I saw as if by chance One lone fruit high...

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