Short Southward Poems
Short Southward Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Southward by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Southward by length and keyword.
southward bound flying
in shape of a boomerang ~
will return in spring
written November 26, 2022
storm clouds threaten rain
breeze moves them swiftly southward
drought unabated
written June 18, 2021
It goes from Fern Rock
to Pattison Avenue
The Broad Street Subway
That's where Philadelphians
travel southward to the games.
WINTER WARNING
early morn honking
city folk, surprised, look up
wild flock southward bound
through the morning fog
street lights cast an eerie glow
distant formation
Spooling southward on shattered wing-
I ache to fold from life’s cruel sting!
(I’d rather die, than say goodbye)
Because I can’t repent this suffering
(A reinvention of 'No Assembly Required')
flocks of geese flying
remind of the life cycle
survival of the fittest
arrowheads pointing
southward in a migration
birds wiser than we, you see.
written October 11, 2021
Bare Weeping Willows
Graceful exposed limbs drip tears
Lake filled to its brim
Eerily fog coats isle's trees
Who sigh for birds southward flown
Sponsor: Nathan_______~~D
Contest: Tanka(season)
Speckled starlings sing with delight
over flying ants in nuptial flight
I watch a swift swoop and pass
above an old meadow ,lush with grass
My fingers reach to touch that sky
where swallows circle,then southward fly
summer
butterflies
saunter along
fluttering southward
on tropical breeze to
Costa Rican sun
inviting them
to escape
winter
edited June 26, 2021
for "Ninette" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
Autumn once again is here.
The air is crisp and cold.
Leaves from trees fall aimlessly,
their colors bright and bold.
Canadian Geese are southward bound.
Trees will soon be bare and shorn.
The harvest moon is beaming bright.
Looks like Summer died and Autumn's born!
The green is turning brown again.
Farmers are harvesting their grain.
Birds are planning their southward trek.
And I'm enjoying awesome sunsets from my deck.
The early morning dews are stick on the green grass.
And sooner than later, the hurricane season will pass.
The picture of an iceberg gives me a chill
A glacier slowly drifting southward a shiver
Why is it, for me, the cold is more than an ill,
And thoughts of winter make my lips quiver.
written December 1, 2021
"Bite Size Poem No. 37" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Line Gautheir
like the winter bird
often longing to be heard
I await the sounds
~
I await the sounds
of the deep swallows calling
robins and duck fly
~
on their way southward
winter winds comes it's now cold
now flow where it's warm
12/29/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019
Savannah, pretty city of the South
Where I spent half a day of my life
Eating your delicious bread
Mixing the smoke of my pipe
With your warm air
Riding in carts pulled by big ambulatory horses
Pissing in your sewage
And wending even more
Southward
You left behind
A shining point
On the turning trajectory
Of my life
Form:
The weatherman is predicting rainbows
As this early autumn storm passes by
A few more weeks to enjoy the warmth
Before southward the geese start to fly...
I savor his words this fall evening
As I watch the pink clouds in the sky
The world could use a bit of soft color
Knowing soon the last faded rose will die....
Summer slips slowly, sullenly southward
Together the terns try taking their turns
Under unusually ubiquitous umber umbrellas
Versatile velocity verified via villagers
While winter welcomed withering weather.
HONORABLE MENTION
written October 7, 2021
"Alliteration and Assonance" Contest
All Poetry - October 11, 2021
AUTUMN SCENE
Something framed within tells an autumn scene
Though grass be still green
Flowers yet bloom in lively color
A lonely bush flaps the protective white house siding
Southward leans
And o’er the rooftops
Clouds blown dizzy in confusion
Race against the Moon
Billow such far away grays
That something contained within
Tells of autumn days
Today, on 2/2/22
The snow is melting fast.
The river’s rushing southward
As some police boats hurry past.
My bench is dry; I’m sitting
In a little patch of sun,
A respite I’ll enjoy until
The cold’s once more begun.
A date with all those 2’s occurs
Just once, but some will see
A matching one with 3’s, but oh,
How ancient I will be!
The squawk of the geese high above
Southward bound to another love
Now misty and chilly comes the breeze
My lost seasons of time are teased
Twisting the first autumn leaves about
Entangles my thoughts into doubt
Watching the children grow and leave
Are cordial captions for all achieved
I'm the changing season progresses
Into dimensional time transgresses
Wending her way westward, wafted on whispering wings
Sailing serenely southward, slithering past secluded scenes
Nudging northward, noticing narrow, noctilucent moonbeams
Edging effortlessly eastward, entering ecstasy's eerie baleen...
Grace dillied and dallied, then dithered and doodled and dozed
Could Heaven's Handiwork save her? ~ Neither angels nor seraphs know
old news this fall
twigs and blades of grass
made by love
eggs once hatched
and eager beaks fed
while looking to the sky
they find their aspiration
is to dream and fall
but have faith
in the sky
looking up I listen
to their songs of love
swirling in the air
claiming their places
under the sun
now days grown short
beckon their southward journeys
only to return
to nest in the spring
when all is new
in a breath of inspiration
Nothing is more delicate than a butterfly
Fluttering by toward a petal out-of-reach,
Sunbeams glistening off its iridescent wings
Butterflies are such beautiful, dainty things
The tangerine-orange of the monarch type
Is worthy of its special celebrated notice,
Visits every summer to my backyard garden
Where I point them out for everyone to enjoy
Watching them flying southward to meet
Me in the butterfly farms of Central America.
written December 24, 2021
Life's grandeur overtook me
And I proffered not a word--
But listened ever quietly
Being calmly reassured.
For I heard a songbird singing,
Though the tune I didn't know--
As I spied her southward winging,
Having somewhere else to go.
And the bloom of every flower
Gave my soul the will to rest--
For sacred was this quiet hour,
And I, for silence blessed.
For only God can make a tree,
And I think a sunset too--
Creating He, the likes of me...
And creating likewise you.