Changing Seasons
Trees begin to shed
their clothing,
leaves change colors
turning brown then
gold,
falling from their
homes,
to be blown away.
they stand alone
bare in distress
for all to see.
the wind whistles
through the pines,
there's a chill in
the air.
close the door
gently,
days become bitter
cold,
winter has arrived.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O Stubborn Leaf
Alone, suspended high above the ground,
On barren limb, defying season’s change-
O stubborn leaf! Was I to winter bound,
Was I a hapless slave to winter’s rage,
I’d set aside this ghastly rake,
Climb your bough and give it a shake,
Bring you down to where broken leaves are found.
But in my heart I share your stubborn hold,
Resisting winter’s scourge upon the trees.
I cherish fall, the brilliant days of gold
And red, such colors dancing in the leaves,
Not fading brown from winter's freeze,
Falling, rotting, filling the eaves,
Till every trace is buried in the cold.
The Urge For Going
I woke up today and found snow perched on the ground
It hovered in a frozen sky and gobbled summer down
So when the leaves were trembling
Frozen trees were standing in a lonely row
I get the urge for going but I never seem to go
And I get the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown
And summertime is falling down and winter's moving in
I had a love in summertime with summer-colored skin
And not another one in town my darling's heart could win
But when the sky turned traitor cold
And bully winds did rub their noses in the snow
She got the urge for going and I had to let her go
And she got the urge for going when the meadow grass was turning brown
Summertime was falling down and winter's moving in
The warriors of winter gave a cold triumphant shout
Now all that dies is staying and all that lives is getting out
See the geese in chevron flight
Flurrying and flapping through the naked sky
They got the urge for going
They've got the wings to fly
They get the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown
And summertime is falling down and winter's moving in
I'll ply the fire with kindling and pull the blankets to my chin
I'll lock the vagrant winter out and bolt my wandering in
I'd like to call back summertime
And ask her just to stay another month or so
But she got the urge for going
I guess she'll have to go
And she got the urge for going when the meadow grass was turning brown
Summertime is falling down and winter's moving in
And she got the urge for going when the meadow grass was turning brown
All my empires are fallen down and winter's moving in
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Urge For Going
Urge For Going
I awoke today and found the frost perched on the town
It hovered in a frozen sky, then it gobbled summer down
When the sun turns traitor cold
and shivering trees are standing in a naked row
I get the urge for going but I never seem to go
I get the urge for going
When the meadow grass is turning brown
Summertime is falling down and winter is closing in
I had me a man in summertime
He had summer-colored skin
And not another girl in town
My darling's heart could win
But when the leaves fell trembling down
Bully winds did rub their faces in the snow
He got the urge for going And I had to let him go
He got the urge for going
When the meadow grass was turning brown
Summertime was falling down and winter was closing in
The warriors of winter they gave a cold triumphant shout
And all that stays is dying and all that lives is getting out
See the geese in chevron flight flapping and racing on before the snow
They've got the urge for going, they've got the wings to go
They get the urge for going
When the meadow grass is turning brown
Summertime is falling down and winter is closing in
I'll ply the fire with kindling and pull the blankets to my chin
and I'll the vagrant winter out and bolt my wandering in
I'd like to call back summertime and have her stay jut another month or so
She's got the urge for going and I guess she'll have to go
And she get the urge for going when meadow grass is turning brown
All her empires are falling down
winter's closing in
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Winter's Come
Sweet chestnuts brown like soling leather turn;
The larch trees, like the colour of the Sun;
That paled sky in the Autumn seemed to burn,
What a strange scene before us now does run--
Red, brown, and yellow, russet, black, and dun;
White thorn, wild cherry, and the poplar bare;
The sycamore all withered in the sun.
No leaves are now upon the birch tree there:
All now is stript to the cold wintry air.
See, not one tree but what has lost its leaves--
And yet the landscape wears a pleasing hue.
The winter chill on his cold bed receives
Foliage which once hung oer the waters blue.
Naked and bare the leafless trees repose.
Blue-headed titmouse now seeks maggots rare,
Sluggish and dull the leaf-strewn river flows;
That is not green, which was so through the year
Dark chill November draweth to a close.
Tis Winter, and I love to read indoors,
When the Moon hangs her crescent up on high;
While on the window shutters the wind roars,
And storms like furies pass remorseless by.
How pleasant on a feather bed to lie,
Or, sitting by the fire, in fancy soar
With Dante or with Milton to regions high,
Or read fresh volumes we've not seen before,
Or oer old Burton's Melancholy pore.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Winter Still
The axe through the wooden piles plows through
Cleaving, a wintry fog and dry rain leaving,
And chips of timber and clovers left in silence pondering
To cleave, splitting a rock in twain
To cleave, each half of the rock once did to each other
To leave, to cleave and no longer to cleave
A subtle rebirth in passive cycles, yielding the calves
In rebuttal to sterile winter staleness, triggering the valves
Of life beyond winter’s paleness, and winter’s comfort
A world of water, a planet of liquid, full of motion
Churning like oceans as leaves are turned on trees
Tuning to the shape of the wind in flexible notions
The boughs unyielding, in fruit and frozen in place
In still pursuit of life again from hibernation, a close
Of remembrance, hoping to shine in snowy clothing
But feeling no loathing in winter still, calm serenity’s
Waves rolling upon the earth to refreshen the life that is
Paused, a cessation of action in which to reflect the green
That once was, the palette of brown twigs, and auburn leaves
And the empty trees, knowing their leaves are buried
Under whited mounds know they shall return springing
And in winter still, the whited mounds rest, their time
On the ground to hide what lies beneath, all kept in humble
Slumber, in warmth of dreams in shivering air
The wintry fog, bellowing sonorities to nights and fugues
To the daylight, conducts an orchestra of intrigues,
Making its own lost paradise a paradise lost
And deep red, yellow, burnt brown leaves perish in
Internment as the cycle continues; they will rise again
Even in falling, they will continue, even in death
Dunes of radiant snow, some days shining with the sun,
Blinding those watching, what makes some days so bleak
Illuminates them far beyond what the grass ever could
Most seasons burying what the ground will never open
Up and swallow, in the snowy months, the flakes will rain,
Begin a shallow dynasty and reign over sod and soil
Upon which men trod, but no longer, in winter still
Letting the white arcades dominate the land, for they may
Be moved, but never dethroned in months of chill
Although the wind blows harshly, and trees stand naked,
And the grass is dominated by chilling forces unabated
Somehow, there is warmth in winter still.
poem by Hunter Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumnale for M lady ernestine
The falling leaves dance in the breeze
and clothe the ground beneath the trees,
in autumn colours rich a rare.
The trees themselves will soon be bare.
Left no defence against the wind.
Their winter plans are well designed,
bare twigs and branches hold less snow
than useless leaves they have let go
The wintry gales to no avail
try hard but they are doomed to fail,
They can’t destroy the sturdy trees;
resisting with apparent ease.
Although they bow before the blast
they know that winter cannot last
The winds will die and fade away
the trees will they’re here to stay.
Spring will return the trees will green
as if the winter had not been.
The trees put on their new spring clothes
along with every plant that grows.
8-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Colours of Autumn
Coppery red leaves,
Falling from trees,
That soon will be bare.
The colours of Autumn.
Piles of reddish brown,
Lying scattered on the ground.
And a chill in the air.
The colours of Autumn.
The sky is grey,
Shorter days,
And darker nights.
The colours of Autumn.
Evenings bathed in gold,
Thunderclouds so bold,
And weaker sun, not as bright.
The colours of Autumn.
poem by Amy Darnbrook
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come September
Come September,
when two of nature's seasons live as one,
where days of summer shed their final afterglow
'ere falling gently 'neath an autumn's rising sun,
and every hanging bough and turning leaf will know ~
the green meets gold,
within the murmurings and turnings of trees
that flutter their branches in a restless dance
of impending change. Their limbs akimbo, as arms,
waving goodbye...watching autumn advance,
yet, summer pleads,
to share the days of changeling September
and clings to every breath of autumn's eve ~
spreading warmth and sultry breeze with waning movement
while knowing time grows short, and it must leave,
as beauty stays,
though, not for long, for gold becomes gold
after summer's sung her final song,
and lustrous are the days and nights made bold
with autumn's breath blowing chilly and cold ~
O'grieve September,
though, not for long, as gold turns into winter white,
then into green with 'springing' guile,
and summer's sight brings back September,
to share a season's remembered smile.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No winter can chill
Grey clouds gather in the sky
with the promise
of some more rain,
but my sunshine is gone
and your smile
falls somewhere else.
How I wish to share
this early winter with you,
to gather your auburn hair
in my hands,
to shelter against the cold
and hold you close
and get a tender kiss,
but the falling red-brown leaves
has an own reality
of the distance between you and me
and still no winter
can chill what lies
between us.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of Autumn
we have become old...
and have earned this time
of turning... turning wind,
turning leaves.... day turning
to night with a suddeness.
every stroke of color,
every shade of black and white...
and this sudden chill brings
a warmth that our lives define!
our passion is falling
like leaves to carpet the earth....
our bare limbs reach heavenward...
to God, or the next page...
we wait on the snow,
and the small fires the living
build to light the way....
we are the song of autumn...
the wind that fills the empty
pages of forever with human hands....
old warriors, and lovers,
whose touching defines the night!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn
The early evening sun set
brings blazing colors
red, yellow, many shades of orange
the beautiful painted clouds flowing so gently
the landscape changing so beautifully to the season
the trees changing colors and the leaves falling so gracefully
the cold brisk wind bring chills to the body
the autumn season brings lovely scenes
mother nature painting at her best
to bring the painting to life so splendidly
birds soaring south for the winter season
parents raking leaves, kids jumping in piles
laughter fills the air, what a pair
the beautiful time of the year
autumn the season of change and beauty
mother nature at her best
creating endless landscapes, so breathless
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some people are afraid to show their true colors
i am not
i don't hide
i have nothing to hide
i am what i am
i am brown, i am a Filipino,
and I am not afraid, I am what i am, i show who and what i am, and i take responsibitity
for what i am
for what i write for what i do for what i say
mountains do not hide, how can they? the seas keep their bodies in the open
their waves blown by the air, for how can they be what they are when they are in hiding?
the trees and the plains, the valleys and the hills, what can they be if they are in hiding? shall you see a vast desert of them then?
the air, if only they have that nature to be seen, they could have assumed such forms that you see, they too are happy to be seen so that you may believe in them,
for in truth, those true and giving do no hide, and if you cannot see them,
they always try,
in some conceivable manifestations,
in some shapes, colors and forms
like some leaves falling when the wind passes by,
like some trees bending, like some pieces of paper blown to the other end.
why are you in hiding?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winters passing
Winters passing
~
A winter passed into day
In the morning sun I saw
Frost melt in the early light
The garden filled with dew
And birds return to sing
The night is going soon
Winter is passing away
The bare trees stand tall
Swaying gently to the wind
Which blows from the east
A season of change
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Impatient
The colors of autumn start to fade
and as the leaves begin their fall
the grass is left with no shade.
It does not complain.
It accepts snow and rain
and as the cold seeps
the grass patiently sleeps.
Now the colors change to a dull brittle brown
Still the sun shines down
on this changing of the colors.
And it's we that frown,
not the colors of autumn.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fall is here!
The days are shorter
The suns rays are dimer
The wind starts to feel
Closer to winter
Trees leaves turn colors
Birds fly to where its warmer
The animals that can't fly
Prepare for the cold weather
Nights come quicker
The chilly breezes
Make you wear clothes
That are thicker
Trees leaves start to fall
At night the wind
Start to whisper
The season is changing
Time has fell back
This means winter is gaining
Nature is most precious
When the weather is changing
Hot long days and warmer nights
Traded for cool short days and chilly nights
Summer is over and fall is here!
poem by Jaycee Wilkerson
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The Chill Of An Early Fall
Well her old friend, from her own end of town dropped by today,
And way down deep inside me something died
When he came 'round to see her that way.
Here it comes again, that same old chilly wind
Will blow like a cold winter squall.
And I'll begin to feel the chill of an early fall.
And I'll be drinking again and thinking whenever he calls,
There's a storm coming on, it won't be too long till the snow falls.
Oh I'll be sobersome,
But when October comes and goes and no time at all
I'll begin to feel the chill of an early fall.
Oh how quick they slip away, here today and gone tomorrow.
Love and seasons never stay, bitter winds are sure to follow.
Now there's no doubt, it's gonna be cold out tonight;
I've shivered all day, and when I look in her eyes
Needing to hold her so tight, she just looks away.
Oh she'll swear that it's true, he's just someone she knew
Long ago, and I'll know that's not all,
And I'll begin to feel the chill of an early fall.
Oh I'll begin to feel the chill of an early fall.
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The heart of a tree
With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chill Of An Early Fall
Well her old friend, from her own end of town dropped by today,
And way down deep inside me something died
When he came round to see her that way.
Here it comes again, that same old chilly wind
Will blow like a cold winter squall.
And Ill begin to feel the chill of an early fall.
And Ill be drinking again and thinking whenever he calls,
Theres a storm coming on, it wont be too long till the snow falls.
Oh Ill be sobersome,
But when october comes and goes and no time at all
Ill begin to feel the chill of an early fall.
Oh how quick they slip away, here today and gone tomorrow.
Love and seasons never stay, bitter winds are sure to follow.
Now theres no doubt, its gonna be cold out tonight;
Ive shivered all day, and when I look in her eyes
Needing to hold her so tight, she just looks away.
Oh shell swear that its true, hes just someone she knew
Long ago, and Ill know thats not all,
And Ill begin to feel the chill of an early fall.
Oh Ill begin to feel the chill of an early fall.
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Morning In Late June
In the cold depths of Winter the grey butcherbird sing
And only nine weeks or thereabouts till the first breath of Spring
Five days ago of daylight hours the year's shortest day
And time it keeps ticking and ticking away.
The drake in the pond performs his courtship display
As he swims by his mate he nods his head her way
And he quacks to tell others she belongs to me
He will be the father of her family.
The buds on the camellias beginning to sprout
In the coldest of Winter their blooms will be out
They will be cloaked in flowers by the end of July
When the chill winds of Winter blow across the sky.
A morning in late June a chill in the breeze
And the rainbow lorikeets chirp on the flowering gum trees
As with their tongues they sip nectar from the pink gum flowers
Amongst leaves rather wet from recent heavy showers.
The sky clouded over and a chill in the wind
And the first month of Winter is close to an end
And old father time he keeps ticking away
And Spring is approaching with each passing day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn Is Coming
Autumn is coming
With gentle breezes
And howling winds
Autumn is coming
To change the colors
To red, brown, and gold
Upon the forest floor
Will lie the leaves of all the trees
When Autumn is here
When the days cool
And the nights grow long
With a bright silver moon in the sky
When the sleepiness sets in
We will sleep until
Winter breaks
Autumn is coming
poem by Autumn Winds
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