January
Start wooing with all the clocks chiming,
Slip the slippery seconds around earth,
And dance with the skies in celebration,
All from pulse to breathe, and to new birth.
January, the first light of another year,
And the glory of that maiden orbit,
Wake silently from golden dust to appear,
A long time coming; we had known it.
After taking down the decorations,
Give chances for the changing course,
To breathe New Year’s resolutions,
And as it grows, given hope a chance.
A brimful of dreams watches all doors opens,
Letting hope in and visions lets out more,
But so long as January defines what begins,
It has the key to mingle with pleasure.
January stands steep in splendor passing by,
Spectra of the seasons towering head,
And hung the gem of lights to guide the sky,
With stars bright and glittering away they fled.
And float midway in opportunity abound,
To such deep measure on thrushes of rapture,
Upon fair winds January is known in all the land,
From drifts to snowy clefts and sunny sphere.
The wakening realm will come back again,
And life begins new through cold and death,
January is the beginning of the end,
Round the islands it goes in triumphant rebirth.
poem by Gerry Legister
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Related quotes
January Once More
Last year has come and gone.
Now a blanket covers a once green lawn.
A prime time for New Year’s resolutions
Though most will be brief in executions.
Seems like only yesterday
When the last January made its way.
Now another appears for a short stay
Before eleven months are blown away.
In spite of all the cold and snow,
Enjoy this time no matter where you go.
Delight in the joys of January
Since like all things in life, it’s temporary.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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January Stars
Ten below and falling fast
Those days of summer were long past
My horoscope said you'd come back
I have my doubts, you see
And as I watched the mercury
And thought about the prophecy
A new moon and an early thaw
I watched the door for you
If January stars came true
And as I gaze at winter stars
The second house conjunct with Mars
They would suggest that we'll be one
I have my doubts, you see
If I maintain a skeptic's eye
And train the other on the sky
I'd eat my hat if it came true
I'd probably eat yours too
If January stars came true
If January stars came true
Now I'm in a pretty mess
It's getting warmer I confess
My horoscope said you'd come back
I have my doubts it's true
And as I watched the mercury
And thought about the prophecy
A new moon and an early thaw
I left the door for you
If January stars
If January stars
If January stars came true
January stars
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Year
Fast and forever in light, January lets the year,
Each of us carry whims of something dear;
Let January take on the next month,
A saintly episode of high labyrinth.
We do much in the way of sadness,
Yet worry is the cause, in this I bless.
Anxiety will resume on the day of birth,
A working day of nights, forever on Earth.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Song Of January!
January sings again for me
and for a year dead gone
on the wheels
of a northern curse.
January sings,
sings again for me
and for autumn flowers
January 30, 2010
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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June In January
When in January it’s June,
in March it will be August, hot
and clammy while I swoon
within your arms, if I am not
mistaken about climate change
that is inevitable when
the summer months within my range
make me perspire once again,
and long for January that’s cold,
when I feel comfortable within
your arms, not feeble, frazzled, old,
and ready to embark on sin,
without the need for air condit-
ioning that I associate with June.
That’s why in wintertime I wish
that January will not leave soon,
but when it does it should be May,
my favorite month when birds do sing,
accompanying my love each day
with joy while you make my heart spring.
Inspired by “It’s June in January, ” a song associated with Bing Crosby, written by Ralph Rainger and Leon Robin:
A clouded moon creeps across the clouded sky
Winds of January sigh and moan
And yet it's June.
I can see a sky of blue
Dear the miracle is due to you.
Just you.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love
It always is spring in my heart
with you in my arms.
The snow is just white blossoms
that fall from above.
And here is the reason, my dear,
Your magical charms.
The night is cold
The trees are bare
But I can feel the scent of roses in the air.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love.
But only because I'm in love with you.
Oh the night is cold!
Won't it be to bear?
But I can feel the scent of roses in the air.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love
`1/23/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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January The Eagle
January the Eagle
Waits up top a hill
It gazes down onto the snowy ground
Without making any sound,
People watch silent and still
As the months march round with clattering sound
Outside their window sills
The eagle tests its wings
Waiting for the song to ring,
Tired of testing, tired of resting,
It screams far and loud
It’s heard all around
Echoing around
The world fast,
As it waits to be freed from the past
It listens until the words are sung
Which are nice and crisp from the slip of a tongue,
January is one again
And new times are ready to begin
The sound will hear loud and clear
As round and beautiful as a sphere,
The sound of future, a light
As magic and wondrous as love at first sight,
Don’t be impatient to hear it
As the songs of future
Can be heard quite near it,
As life is replenished
The sound is heard
With triumphant words
As harsh weather meets nice nature,
A new era has begun,
The Eagle drops
Without a stop,
To soon recover with a turn
The eagle says I shall return,
Just like the month of January
Through rain and sleet
The eagle flies
Its' wings beat
In the cotton blotched sky,
Higher and higher it must fly
To see the sun shine proud
In the bright free sky
The Eagle’s heart of love
January’s white dove,
The Eagle’s talons of strength
January’s unforgiving length,
The Eagle’s wings that soar
Are January’s winds of roar,
The Eagle’s balding white
Reveals January’s loving light,
The Eagle’s eyes are quick and sharp
As January’s musical winter harp,
A bird of prey
A month of new way
January like an Eagle,
Both represent a time when hopes renewed
And long before reviewed,
An Eagle can fly stunningly high
Like spirit of America in tragic time,
As war comes to end a new hate will begin,
Why do we still fly?
Because there’s always the sky.
To dream a dream of peace
Brotherhood united to release
Even through wars of nature or man
The Eagle and the American people
Have something lethal
Freedom and spirit is the weapon of choice
For when bad wind blows
We’ll always fight back with a voice
Beware when the nest is stirred
Out flies the bird
When the eagles fly
Evil will die
For beware not to bother
Our god our father
Our way of living
And your hell-full sinning.
No god would ask for such hate
For it’s the beginning, it’s not too late
A nation torn by others aggression
Looks to support her people with passion
A new birth a waits,
A new lesson others hate,
Freedom and spirit united we stand
No unwanted force shall invade our land,
Sheltering wings of protection to provide
For a nation full of honor and pride,
January is the beginning
And the Eagle is the spirit of the living.
poem by Will David
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Bright Year
Is their brightness a month of the year?
(January is the start of the next time.)
We are in the end of the long year,
December adjusts to the light, it is bright.
Light is a surge of clever spots
Traveling through the universe
Like complicated particles and successful patches.
The bright year is all due to the Sun
And its warmth, so fight some who see
This sun and moon that dance.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Happy 2011
HAPPY 2011
H-ave
A
P-eaceful
P-rosperous
Y-ear
I trust that 2011 is going to be a year to remember
That from January to December
You are going to be blessed
That all will turn out for the best
You will win every test
Fix all that is messed
Restore broken relations
Have more patience
When times become tough
They will be overcome by love
You will give no place to fear
And 2011 will be an awesome year
Gods very best to you and your family for 2011
Love
Henry & Madalene 31 January 2011
Hebry Brown 31 January 2011
poem by Henry Brown
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January Friend
Reach for higher ground
About the way you look
The way you scream out loud
Mine
Just like the last time
It's all the same to me
She said
Let's pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Cry
Don't cry out loud
You've gotta bear your cross but never dream too loud
And you're tied
Tied to the next time
You realize your crimes
Let's pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Time stood still Monday mornin' yeah
Showed me what I had to see
It's not the way I thought it should be
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
And every heart that beats pretend
Oh January friend
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
And every heart that beats tonight's
Pretend
song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For an Otter
Three Years: I am to always be here with you.
Even the days I was not (you were not)
Sufficed by the many hes or shes, lips for kissing
Or maybe, just once, settled for sweetness
Tossed around in my bed, (your bed)
Lead me (perhaps you too) to doors of salvation
But never apart for long to ask of me who I was, and once
Come after I'd gone missing in January, from last January
And was not around to hear you but
You'd remembered to always speak in French to me
So I could always return to remember to say to you
That you were still smiling and even after so long
Strangers melting together in summer's sun goodbye
I wanted for you to stop kissing me
Only to sleep in your hand with mine
To be too wordy, too distant
To argue, To agree on
The brilliance in:
sedation, grinding teeth, tired eyes, jittery knees,
Your songs and such that are not about me, and
Poems I write and read to you of January from last January
so far away is the plane you caught this morning
Too many states away are my hands from your hands
- What if we had not been lovers fighting against love?
I don't want to know
I am to think I would have lost when I did not have to
I am to always be here with you
poem by Belinda Nelson
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Come Home My Son, Come Home
As I travel across this country
the land that I love best
with its snowy peaked mountains
that lay out of reach in the west.
The rivers and the lakes
where nature grows at its best.
The forests and the plains
that each has their part
in the land I love the best.
I write from a distant shore
with dreams of coming home again
ever always on my mind.
Seeing once again friends
from a long, long time ago.
The land that I live in is not to my desire.
My home is ten thousand miles away,
and each time I see it,
it’s like the birth of a new day.
The cities are filled with people
and in the countryside; you can breathe in the fresh air.
The more I dream about it,
the more I wish to be there.
It is not the land of my birth,
but the place that I call home.
That distant country keeps calling to me
come home my son, come home.
31 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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January
the tinkle of porcelain spoons
clink of glasses
and click of chopsticks
turn over december to january
the old year
just a few minutes ago
a flash of the meteor
gone and lost
in another part of the mind
now all alighted with
the new year, new plans
new wishes and hopes
january
the new child
brings fresh hope and joy
all of a sudden all the attention
is focussed on the new days
the old year slowly, slowly,
just another memory
a dead relativel
inspired by
In January
Only one cell in the frozen hive of night
is lit, or so it seems to us:
this Vietnamese café, with its oily light,
its odors whose colorful shapes are like flowers.
Laughter and talking, the tick of chopsticks.
Beyond the glass, the wintry city
creaks like an ancient wooden bridge.
A great wind rushes under all of us.
The bigger the window, the more it trembles.
Ted Kooser
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ballad Of January
January
Is
A new month
A new start for me
To learn new things
To learn to let go of my anger
And open up my heart
And to listen to what my heart
Is saying
It is waking up
From a long painful journey
Of last summer
I love you all the time
Sunsets
January
Thanks god you are mild
Because I hate the cold
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Skip Through the Year
For those of January
May they always have
Something fun to do
For in January
You start everything new
Those born in February
They shall have a wide range
Of things to differ
Of things to change
In March, you shall see
The fun will begin
With the sunlight along them
For then begins Spring
In April the tricks
And jokes have no end
Watch out for liars
For words twist and bend
May, the season
Where all is green
Where flowers bloom
Where all is seen
June
Now summer has begun
All should be happy
And smile in the sun
July, the middle
Of warmth is the season
Where things are done
For no real reason
August, pray
School is there
Where has vacation gone,
Tell me, where?
In September the leaves
Begin to fall
Some call this Autumn
Some call it Fall
October, get ready
For trick or treat
For all kids love
To recieve things sweet
November, believe it
The year's almost gone
Now winter begins
Too long the sun shone
December, now go
To your sled or snow cart
Sit down and get ready
A new year to start.
poem by Jenny Diamond
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January Drear
January is here again
darkness, rain, wet and cold
work to be done
but the rush goes on
battling the sales shoppers
like in times of old
Back to the grindstone
the January drear
after Christmas cheer
and New Years celebrations
A tide of hangovers
weight-gain and revelations.
Peace on earth to all man kind
is what is said at Chrsitmastime
but in the new year
we lose that cheer
and become dismal
homosapian haters.
poem by Victoria Hughes
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Time for Heavy Boots
For eight-foot snow drifts,
for jagged icicles the size
of mastodon tusks to
drag down gutters.
For gales to howl
through storm windows
and make even stately mansions
shake and shiver like Medea
giving birth.
Time to watch your life
unfold before your eyes
before opening the portal
leading from light and warmth
to a world of frozen terror
where comfort knows no welcome.
Time for Time
to be devoured by Medusa,
waiting in the mirror.
January, the month when all of
our parents always die.
January, time of Janus, the
dual-faced god simultaneously
embracing past and future.
January, time to create
the future by remembering
the past with a finer, more
focused vision.
poem by David Kowalczyk
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How January Is Propelled To Spring
Chill January’s snow falls thick and fast
Propelled by blinding blizzard’s biting blast,
So soft white blankets bind the earth for days,
Though spring means drifts shall not lie long nor last.
Bleak January’s rain falls hard and long
Impelled by fierce Atlantic gales, full strong
So even mighty oaks bow in their wake
Till fury fades to calm in spring’s sweet song.
Wild January’s storms shall shed their sting,
Repelled by sun, as winter spins to spring,
So kinder, temperate breezes gently blow
To melt the snow, that all the fields can sing.
Mean January’s curse will never stay,
Dispelled by hopes of ever-lengthening day,
So gardens don spring coats of cheerful hues
As colour’s charm returns where all was grey.
Cruel January’s cloak of white shall yield,
Compelled to turn to green in springtime’s field,
So leaping lambs can clothe the hills again
And cattle quit the comfort of the bield.
Grim January’s gloom will end, by mirth
Expelled, as warmth returns to cheer the earth,
So birds will nest and leaves begin to spring
And dormant buds burst, bearing brand-new birth.
Harsh January’s coldness is compelled
To change, as dismal drabness is expelled.
Repelled by spring, impelled, the frost must flee;
So, doubts dispelled, to warmth we are propelled.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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In January In Duhallow
The cold winds of January from the north east does blow
And the weather is cold quite cold enough for to snow
And the hungry birds silent on the naked hedgerow
In the flat and rushy fields where the Blackwater flow.
January in Duhallow from here far away
In the chill of the morning the frost bound fields gray
In the farmyard sheds cattle bellow for silage or hay
Where the sun seldom shines on a January day.
The distinctive harsh caws of the silver backed crow
In the Season where grass does refuse for to grow
And few cars on the roadway that leads to the town
Near where the river flows bank high in flood waters of brown.
In January in Duhallow the old fields looking bare
With the harsh chill of Winter in the cold Morning air
And at least eight long weeks till the first breath of Spring
When Nature will bloom and her wild birds will sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The First Of 08
The first day of 08 a warm and a humid day
And weeks of weather such as this on the way
A furnace like breath in the afternoon breeze
In a forecast high of 39 degrees
From the constant heat their only form of ease
The sheep congregate in the shade of the trees
The renowned chirpers house sparrows the only birds one does hear
On the first day of January in the Southern New Year
In towns and in cities from here near and far away
The revellers of last night are hung over today
A cool change is coming in the forecast we do hear
As to the prime of Summer we are drawing ever near
The first day of January and so warm is the sun
And another New Year has already begun.
poem by Francis Duggan
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October in New Zealand
O JUNE has her diamonds, her diamonds of sheen,
Meet for a queen’s neck, if Death had e’er a queen!
June has her blue days, jewels of delight,
Set in the ivory of Alp-land white,—
But October, October’s the lady o’ the year!
O January’s garland is redder than the rose,
And the wine-red ruby of January glows
All the way to madness and half the way to sin,
When sleep is in the poppy and fire is in the whin!
But October, October’s the lady o’ the year!
October will ride in a mantle o’ the vair,
With the flower o’ the quince in her dew-wet hair;
October will ride to the gates of the day,
With the bluebells ringing on her maiden way;—
For October, October’s the lady o’ the year!
poem by Jessie Mackay
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