Veterans' Cemetery
The ceremonies of the day have ceased,
Abandoned to the ragged crow's parade.
The flags unravel in the caterpillar's feast.
The wreaths collapse onto the stones they shade.
How quietly doves gather by the gate
Like souls who have no heaven and no hell.
The patient grass reclaims its lost estate
Where one stone angel stands as sentinel.
The voices whispering in the burning leaves,
Faint and inhuman, what can they desire
When every season feeds upon the past,
And summer's green ignites the autumn's fire?
The afternoon's a single thread of light
Sewn through the tatters of a leafless willow,
As one by one the branches fade from sight,
And time curls up like paper turning yellow.
poem by Dana Gioia
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I had to forsake the world of my childhood
The cat tells me
that its time for its food
and outside bees
still fly past in a swarm
and I realise that it’s late afternoon,
that the shadows are drawing long lines,
the wind rustles through the tree branches
and it’s already almost cold
as the winter is coming.
Still there’s something in the late autumn
that catches me
where here and there leaves
hang like dots on tree branches,
that the sun sometimes still gives hot rays
as if it does not really want
the cold to come
and the grass is still green
like in the summer.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The winter is coming
The cat tells me
that its time for its food
and outside bees
still fly past in a swarm
and I realise that it’s late afternoon,
that the shadows are drawing long lines,
the wind rustles through the tree branches
and it’s already almost cold
as the winter is coming.
Still there’s something in the late autumn
that catches me
where here and there leaves
hang like dots on tree branches,
that the sun sometimes still gives hot rays
as if it does not really want
the cold to come
and the grass is still green
like in the summer.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
New For Old
Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.
poem by Adrian Wait
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bitter Love
down from the branches fall the leaves,
a wanness comes on all the trees,
the summers done;
and into his last house in heaven,
now goes the sun.
sharp frost destroys the tender sprays,
birds are cold in these short days,
the Nightengale
is grieving that the fire of heaven
is now grown pale.
the swollen river rushes on
past meadows whence the green has gone,
the golden sun
has filled our world.snow falls by day
the nights are numb.
about me all the world is stark,
and i am burning; in my heart
there is a fire
a living flame in me, the maid
of my desire
your kisses, fuel my fire,
your tender touches, flaming higher.
the light of light
dwells in your eyes; divinity
is in your sight.
greek fire can be extingwished
by bitter wine; my fire is fed
on other meat.
yea, even the bitterness of love
is bitter sweet
poem by Brian Saling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In some fields of grass under the hills (sestina)
This afternoon the peaks throw a big shade
with the black cliffs shining up on the hills,
while we lay together in the long grass,
I look in your eyes that are amber-green
while under my head there is a small stone
and you smile at me like the prettiest lady.
I had once known another charming lady;
that part of my life is now left in shade,
bad churchmen were casting stone upon stone,
while I had to flee from them to the hills
to pastures were everything is green
to find the Lord in divine fields of grass.
Under your head there is a crown of grass
and your mother is a gracious, kind lady,
around us everything is lovely green
while we are still resting in the cool shade,
we are softly chatting about life’s hills,
about walls of very hard granite stone.
Your eyes are much brighter than emerald stone
while all of your words are softer than grass,
reaching higher and beyond all the hills,
the high mountain which is dangerous lady,
while from our pain nothing gives any shade,
nowhere is a place of rest that is green.
Your summer dress is lovely, is bright green,
suddenly all our ails have turned to stone
I follow you further; see your small shade,
I am seen as one that woos any lady,
we walk past some flowers growing in grass,
climbing up higher into the foothills.
Bright streams are splashing down some of the hills,
with water transparent, sometimes cold and green,
love and lust burns like in a youthful lady
while I at that moment feel cold as stone,
we notice a deer feeding on lone grass
while our garments lie under a tree’s shade.
Far into the hills you want love till dusk’s shade,
where you peep like some green moss from the grass,
are tossing me with a stone like no lady.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Seasons
I
As if summer will never end
irises are everywhere in the garden
with opening flower after flower
in light yellow, deep purple and rust-brown.
The bright hot sun hangs day after day
in a cobalt blue sky and even carnations, geraniums
and flame lilies are showing their beauty,
are still holding onto summer.
Doves are still cooing in the oak tree,
their are finches and sparrows cavorting up and down
and it’s as if nature is thwarting autumn
while dew is still shining on the leaves in the mornings
until later the sky becomes dull blue
while the sun is getting much more faint.
II
Slowly the leaves are falling
descending in different colours,
in one’s and two’s and later in a bigger number
tree-trunks become dark brown, red and some pallid
until every tree but for those that are evergreen stand skeleton,
the birds that remain sit next to each other shivering,
wishing for the winter to past
having difficulty to find seeds and other food
and the cold winter wind blows through everything,
filling the air with whirling dust clouds
with stripped branches flinging up and down
and everywhere leaves and branches lie in a jumble
until the wind dies down and the morning fog hangs like vapour,
at times only at noon is dispersed by the sun.
III
Days are cold and grey while the sun hides,
with a owl hunting during the day
searching for hungry mice sneaking around in the yellow grass
and all other signs of animal life is missing
but for doves sitting here and there
on telephone wires,
in disconsolation staring into the distance
and early mornings the grass is covered with white ripe
and it is as if every flower succumbs,
is shrinking crumpled and are folding close
until the first spring rain comes suddenly,
with sprouts and buds appearing and new flowers folding open
when fruit trees are covered with white, pink and yellow blossoms
and the sudden beauty takes your breath away.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sestina
I have come, alas, to the great circle of shadow,
to the short day and to the whitening hills,
when the colour is all lost from the grass,
though my desire will not lose its green,
so rooted is it in this hardest stone,
that speaks and feels as though it were a woman.
And likewise this heaven-born woman
stays frozen, like the snow in shadow,
and is unmoved, or moved like a stone,
by the sweet season that warms all the hills,
and makes them alter from pure white to green,
so as to clothe them with the flowers and grass.
When her head wears a crown of grass
she draws the mind from any other woman,
because she blends her gold hair with the green
so well that Amor lingers in their shadow,
he who fastens me in these low hills,
more certainly than lime fastens stone.
Her beauty has more virtue than rare stone.
The wound she gives cannot be healed with grass,
since I have travelled, through the plains and hills,
to find my release from such a woman,
yet from her light had never a shadow
thrown on me, by hill, wall, or leaves’ green.
I have seen her walk all dressed in green,
so formed she would have sparked love in a stone,
that love I bear for her very shadow,
so that I wished her, in those fields of grass,
as much in love as ever yet was woman,
closed around by all the highest hills.
The rivers will flow upwards to the hills
before this wood, that is so soft and green,
takes fire, as might ever lovely woman,
for me, who would choose to sleep on stone,
all my life, and go eating grass,
only to gaze at where her clothes cast shadow.
Whenever the hills cast blackest shadow,
with her sweet green, the lovely woman
hides it, as a man hides stone in grass.
poem by Dante Alighieri
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Few Can Resist The Autumn
Few can resist the Autumn.
And...
This season with changes upon them.
Few can resist,
The picturesqueness...
Of the Autumn.
With the color of the leaves turning bright,
To their delight.
Red and yellow with orange in sight.
From Sunrise until twilight.
Few can resist the Autumn,
When...
Autumn falls.
And...
Few can resist the Autumn,
When...
Autumn calls.
And the East Coast comes to host,
Them all...
Winter, Spring, Summer and again the Fall.
Few can resist the Autumn.
Hoping that Summer stalls.
Few can resist the Autumn.
Few can resist the Autumn.
Hoping that Summer stalls.
Few can resist the Autumn.
And the East Coast comes to host,
Them all...
Winter, Spring, Summer and again the Fall.
Few can resist,
The picturesqueness...
None at all.
Few can resist the Autumn.
Hoping that Summer stalls.
Few can resist the Autumn.
None at all.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Voices From Amongst The Trees
Around me fall the autumn leaves
Within our hearts the future breathes
Voices from amongst the trees
Tell of freedom un-foretold.
Around me breaks the winter lake
Within our hearts old loves awake
Voices from beyond the gate
Tell of freedom from the shade.
Around me rise the springtime blooms
Below an reborn maiden moon
Voices speak of light from gloom
They speak of romance old.
Around me glows a summers green
Within our hearts the future dreams
All of nature grows, it gleams
Speaking words to never fade.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Spice-Tree
This is the song
The spice-tree sings:
"Hunger and fire,
Hunger and fire,
Sky-born Beauty—
Spice of desire,"
Under the spice-tree
Watch and wait,
Burning maidens
And lads that mate.
The spice-tree spreads
And its boughs come down
Shadowing village and farm and town.
And none can see
But the pure of heart
The great green leaves
And the boughs descending,
And hear the song that is never ending.
The deep roots whisper,
The branches say:—
"Love to-morrow,
And love to-day,
And till Heaven's day,
And till Heaven's day."
The moon is a bird's nest in its branches,
The moon is hung in its topmost spaces.
And there, to-night, two doves play house
While lovers watch with uplifted faces.
Two doves go home
To their nest, the moon.
It is woven of twigs of broken light,
With threads of scarlet and threads of gray
And a lining of down for silk delight.
To their Eden, the moon, fly home our doves,
Up through the boughs of the great spice-tree;—
And one is the kiss I took from you,
And one is the kiss you gave to me.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
farewell summer GOOD_BYE
I live in Lake District in Turkey
for four years
as a permanent resident
after retirment
It is the hometown of my wife
rose district
iti is also called
the city Isparta
famous with her roses
especially with oil roses
rose oı ls
spilling on all over the world
scenting differently
the off spring are walkş ng
in obidiency
and silently and politely
holding their kins hands tightly
what a sight
but this summer
roses are in bankruptcy
nowadays
the purple and pink thistles
are turning brownish yellow
the sparrows..the finches...the goldfinches
are entering the uncultivated gardens scarcely
they have lost most of their joys
the sunflowers are opening wide
seeing the hottest sun
the butterflies are flying joyfully
the ancient house seems more desolate
her walls are mor wrinkled this year
at nights
ı cannot see any light
where are the olden women
living there
coping with themselves and life
the poplars around are hissing and whispering
in the winds
the green began to yellow
all my hopes are hollow
the crows
crow crow crow
and the madman
crows just like them
in the morning
the hazelnuts are still hanging on the trees
the grain be cut and scythed
some stains fell on the weather
ı feel
the hot days
will not last much further
farewell summer
good_bye
oh the last butterfly of summer
fly fly fly
when you are able to fly
poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Day in June
Amidst the hills full and lonely
I walked the ragged paths and stumbled stones,
Looking for a kind of longing,
A memory of that one day in June so long ago.
Remembering that summer,
Where leaves, green and velvet,
Hung down, idle and unraised.
The weather warm and wet,
Clouds in wind meeting their shadows on the ground,
Hovering over elm and willow.
Their branches eavesdropping on rooks and jackdaws
While beneath rabbits watched each other,
As if in endless love.
Here is where the memory of beauty will find me,
In a breeze that rustles faintly,
On occasion to take a nap,
That leaves the air silent, still.
For on that day in June
When the summer rite began,
It was as if nothing in the world mattered,
Which made it all the sweeter.
poem by John Scully
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Farewell To Summer
It has begun: a few leaves are falling;
Autumn has started its gentle calling.
Summer is slowly coming to an end;
Now autumn wants to be our friend.
During autumn, we may feel a little cold,
But, in return, we've been promised gold.
Golden leaves will be found all around:
Up in the trees, and down on the ground.
Leaves of yellow, brown, orange, and fiery red,
Will form a coloured carpet to soften our tread.
We'll be presented with a whole wealth of riches,
As, from summer to autumn, the season switches.
The tall, towering trees will be set ablaze,
As traces of summer are slowly erased.
Sorely missed will be summer's long days;
Sorely missed will be summer's warm rays.
But time moves on, and the summer must go;
No doubt we'll be dazzled by autumn's show.
Autumn prefers to paint us a different scene;
It likes to wipe summer's colour palette clean.
Some say farewell to summer with a sad tear,
But, others much prefer this time of the year.
Chill September mornings may be here again,
But our memories of this summer will remain.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Autumn Leaves Changing Colors
As summer ends and autumn comes
Days get shorter, misty and cold
And in this spectacular season
Nature's beauty graciously unfold
Trees get ready to slow down
And in autumn take some rest
And show amazing colors of love
That are all at their best
Green fades away quickly
And yellow and orange appear
To show off their vibrant hues
And warmup their surrounding dear
Sunlight and cool nights of autumn
Help leaves to turn orangish red
And combine all things smoothly
To add magic in season's lovely bed
And all this shedding and replacement
Of leaves continue throughout the year
And trees only shed leaves in autumn
To prepare for another winter dear
This is God's spectacular display
Of beautiful colors of the fall
During which many changes occur
Including yellow, orange and red of all.
***Inspired by the changing colors of autumn in Canada.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Autumn Falling Leaves
When all have been and gone away,
Like leaves from green to amber orange,
Falling down and to decay,
Is the time for all in nature to fall,
And the leaves on the trees show it all,
Autumn and its falls of fall,
Where all the branches have dropped their leaves,
All have gone except the evergreens,
Showing signs to us that live among,
Four seasons weather,
Where Autumn is,
Just like in life,
When full circle of life is known,
A start in spring where buds appear,
Then in summer full bloom trees will be,
Hence, fall shows all,
When nature falls,
Begining another season,
Winter and chill tempetures,
Where nature decays,
And leaves do fall,
To generate again,
Renewing its life,
Come spring again,
Untill then,
Autumn sheads its leaves of blossom and blooms,
And soon again autumn begins,
From new to old,
And then old to new,
Buds in spring and leaves of green,
Showing birth from what did decayed,
And brought forth from,
What was bear on the trees,
From where beneath was where once,
Those Autumn falling leaves.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pumpkin Parade
The pungent smell of autumn
With the air so crisp and cool
Golden leaves tumble to the ground
A time for nature’s renewal
The pumpkins are harvested
When autumn time appears
They are ripe and ready
For the parade we all revere
Horses are hooked up
To wagons and carts
Folks all pile in
And we’re ready to start
Aren’t they just beautiful?
The pumpkins I mean
Every size shade and style
It’s a sweet autumn dream
The air is so fresh
The time is so right
It’s a pumpkin parade
What a beautiful sight!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Awesomeness of Autumn
Sweet Autumn heralds summer season's past,
She can't conceal the changing of her leaves
Autumnal days will hasten winter's blast
Her sunny days will ripen harvet sheaves.
Artistic Autumn paints a myriad hues,
Red, orange, yellow, pink and brown and green
She - from her pallette - has the chance to choose
Collages that no artist ever dreamed.
Majestic Autimn heralds winter's charm,
Leaves fall, trees' silhouttes revealed
Wood piles replenished in the rustic farm
Exotic fungi in the woods concealed.
Is Autumn still - best season of the year?
YES, Autumn well deserves the bonfires' cheer!
(John Knight - September 2009)
poem by John Knight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vae Victis!
Here in this isle
The summer still lingers,
And Autumn's brown fingers
So busy the while
With the leaves in the north;
Are scarcely put forth
In this land where the sun still glows like an ember,.
In mid-November.
In England it's cold,
And the yellow and red
Of October have fled ;
And the sun is wet gold
Like an emperor weeping,
When Death goes a-reaping
All through his empire, merciless comer
The dead things of summer.
The sky has cried so
That the earth is all sodden,
With dead leaves in-trodden,
And the trees to and fro
Wave their arms in the air
In despair, in despair :
They are thinking of all the hot days that are over,
And the cows in the clover.
Here the roses are out,
And the sun at high noon
Makes the birds faint and swoon.
But the cricket's about
With his song, and the hum
Of the bees as they come
To feast at the honey-board laden and groaning,
Makes musical droning.
But vainly, alas !
Do I hide in the south,
Kiss close with my mouth
Red flowers, green grass,
For Autumn has found me
And thrown her arms around me.
She has breathed on my lips and I wander apart,
Dead leaves in my heart.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hearts On Fire
We saw the writings on the wall
When heathens ruled above us all
Tormented, we still heard the call
You come to bring us down
Wield the scepter, steal the crown
Time on the throne is running out
Cause seasons change but we are still the same
Event though the cold winds blow were burning like a flame
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Hearts On Fire
For years shunned by society
Outcasts, condemned for our beliefs
Our legions grew in secrecy
And now, the time is here
I see the Templars everywhere
The Freedom Call is drawing near
We hold our rebel banners up with pride
The colours crimson and the Hammer is the sign
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Solo: Stefan
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!