Angst Seasons Poems

It's snowing
       even though it's
           April
   ...

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Winter,time of Persephone's  doom
Plants die when Pluto her does entomb

Up on earth Demeter weeps
And her seasonal vigil keeps

With Pluto's spell over and broken
Life on...

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It's nature's will in Autumn trees—
To slip out of offbeat colors.
There lay crushed prose he saw through her.
My unattached ground still does bleed
From raked walks...

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Like seasons passing,
It starts off spring.
Butterflies in the stomach,
soft, gentle, cool.
Hinting at something
Lingering in the air.
A brush of hands,
still shy
as it forms.

Come summer,
Hot, bright, fiery.
Excitement...

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reflecting what ceases
a season from fully blooming.
Spring ‘21 was set to boost,
but mom died and I couldn’t 
take those walks, except
down the aisle of shocks.
Autumn...

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I thought to write of butterflies.
Also of birds, their lovely song.
but then I came to realize
poems about them are miles long.
    ...

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A Season for war
We rage in twilight…

At the edge of our reason.
Winter surges at the realm,
Summer comes to slay,
Spring tries to heal,
Fall loves the decay.

Black...

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Devoid of personal exposure to wondrous Spring 
I thank God for His bestowed vicarious experience
via technology’s media encounters
enabling me to testify about its majestic delight.

Among...

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Corporeal rivers, endless parks
ballet dancing trees, purple pentair
peaks, veiled vixen valleys where 
rhythmic romances abundantly abound.
January Springs sprout forever framed
parades of meticulous major-minor choral
florettes, all...

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I see how it once was 
Days of crystal line Blue skies 
& emerald green seas 
of sweet grass, gently
Swaying …
from Horizon to horizons edge...

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I am simply amazed at the changes in the weather
Unseasonably warm toward the end of December
We have yet to see a ground covering of snow
It...

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...a bitter time

WINTER OF MISERY
It clings to all...
Freezing our bones.
Chilling our passion...
Land's are lost in this winters Blizzard...
A cold season of bitter fruits.
A life that...

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THE INVALID

Speak to me of winter,					
Of icy winds that keen and cry,
And shake the ivy strung by the lake
And push the clotted clouds along the...

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Tilting in the breeze 
branches sway to and fro 
to the rhythm under the world 
a delicate snow to autumn breeze 
rushing here, there 
breaking...

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I’m weary of this winter and it’s chill
that wraps around me tightly like a glove
and robs my aging spirit of its will
while leaving lonely hearts...

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