Poem about Poetry - dont call me a poet
dont call me a poet
instead treat me
like a poem
spring, summer,
autumn or winter
i am mere leaf
that has taken
enough of sun
and now
swinging a
freedom from
the top of tree
to the lowest
smugly hugging
the fact that
ever ready
is a large land
wide as your arms
to embrace me
a warm, humble rest
after all the glory in the sun
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Autumn Sing
Here’s the autumn sing…
A symphony from its falling leaf…
Catching the wind from a future winter…
Rolling through a shy light…
Oh autumn shall not die in winter…
As a promise summer will surely come….
Ah autumn is a second spring…
Not all could see, all leaf is flower….
Autumn warn a terrible winter phase….
No one listen, No one will hear it…
As it is only the sound of silence….
Who can hold an indefinite sound...?
No one embrace the autumn….
As it is only a sad phase…
It gives nothing but an autumn chill….
Spring always comes with a better glory…
Oh autumn with its broken feather…
Could other season patch it up again?
No other season will devote their being….
Autumn suffers alone….
Autumns leaf keep on falling…
Spring comes cheerfully…
Summer comes strongly….
Winter always comes coldly…..
But autumn changes its face every time….
No one knows the differences….
Just the secret of the nature…
Why can’t it’d be a spring?
Why can’t it’d be summer?
Why can’t it’d be winter?
Ah autumn dance again between all the falling leaf…
It enjoys its sadness…
It embraces its pain….
As only from autumn all painter learn…
How to capture a true hidden beauty…
All speaks the same in every season….
But autumn remain different…..
For autumn is an alone singer…
Only a genuinely soul painter could witness its beauty….
That’s all the autumn need….
A silence audience....
Who can make other being see….
A glance of its beauty...
poem by Eva Clara Harahap
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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
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Self, No Self
self, no self...
does the leaf know the bark?
the bark know the limb?
the limb know the tree?
are they seperate, or one?
do the roots need a name?
the sun and rain ask for thanks?
where does one begin,
and the other end?
is the womb not a grave?
does the soul leave the body?
does the fire ever go out?
or do the embers wait,
warm and steady?
winter to spring, spring to summer,
summer to autumn, autumn to winter.
the tides go out,
and then return...
who stands on the shore,
lamp in hand?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Reason for Every Season (My ode to the seasons and Indian summer.)
There is a purpose that God and nature gave us every season.
Fall, winter, spring, and summer always happens for this reason.
In the fall all the trees turn many cool colors and paint a wonderful hue.
Winter arrives the temperature drops and can make some of us blue.
When spring is near they say April showers bring May flowers.
The weather becomes hotter when summer arrives.
The summer also brings us June weddings and brides..
Without the seasons then life for all mankind would be just a bummer.
We all wish for our weather outside to be like a warm Indian summer.
*I got inspired this write my poem after I read the poems; ‘INDIAN SUMMER’ by Emily Dickinson and the other poem is called ‘LOVE IS LIKE AN INDIAN SUMMER’ by Sue Raymer Woods.
Definition Indian summer - noun is a name given to a period of sunny, warm weather in autumn, not long before winter.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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Seasons
With the spring
comes a carpet of green
that spreads out
across the land
as new growth rears its head
to meet the spring sun.
Slowly as the season folds
and summer comes along.
The colours of the rainbow
greet everyone’s eyes
along with the warm breezes
that sweep across the land.
The summer folds into autumn
and the vibrant colours
change to musty ones
as harsh winds blow
knocking leaves and petals
to the ground.
Finally, autumn closes
and winter begins again.
White fluffy snowflakes
begin to scatter on the ground.
And when winter comes to go
spring will then return
and the seasons begin all over again.
22 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Winter
Come close to me, oh companion of my full life;
Come close to me and let not Winter’s touch
Enter between us. Sit by me before the hearth,
For fire is the only fruit of Winter.
Speak to me of the glory of your heart, for
That is greater than the shrieking elements
Beyond our door.
Bind the door and seal the transoms, for the
Spirit and the face of our snow-laden fields
Makes my soul cry.
Feed the lamp with oil and let it not dim, and
Place it by you, so I can read with tears what
Your life with me has written upon your face.
Bring Autumn’s wine. Let us drink and sing the
Song of remembrance to Spring’s carefree sowing,
And Summer’s watchful tending, and Autumn’s
Reward in harvest.
Come close to me, oh beloved of my soul, the
Fire is cooling and fleeing under the ashes.
Embrace me, for I fear loneliness; the lamp is
Dim, and the wine which we pressed is closing
Our eyes. Let us look upon each other before
They are shut.
Find me with your arms and embrace me; let
Slumber then embrace our souls as one.
Kiss me, my beloved, for Winter has stolen
All but our moving lips.
You are close to me, My Forever.
How deep and wide will be the ocean of slumber;
And how recent was the dawn!
By Kahlil Gibran
poem by Ray Lucero
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Winter Comes A'Calling
Oh, Winter comes a'calling
To dampen life's warming days
Spreading across the meadow
Where the last leaf of autumn lays
How sadly does the dying leaf
Flutter ~ to the frosty ground
Its glow a fading ember
Falling softly ~ without a sound
No more to see the sunrise
Above the forest ~ deeply green
Nor to treasure the glowing twilight
As it passes now ~ unseen
Oh, yes ~ Old Winter's a'calling
Where the barren trees now stand
Spreading ~ a darkened silence
With the touch of its chilly hand
The Winter brings the ending
Of our summer and autumn days
Their warm memories ~ are now buried
Where the last leaf of autumn lays......
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Shall You Compare Me?
Shall you compare me to a summer's day?
I am more humid,
and in the winter when the world is gray
I am more tumid
than northern nights when love defies the cold
and makes me sing,
or autumn with the falling of the gold,
or dreams in spring.
To summer days do not compare me, dearie,
in spring and fall
and winter when the days are somewhat dreary,
I hear your call.
(12/7/97/Inspired by a satire of the Shakespeare sonnet written by the English poet Wendy Coates.)
poem by Gershon Hepner
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A year the Juniper tree
Thou art...
the wisdom of autumn,
a coloured autumn leaf, fallen of a tree,
a winter dream,
fresh fallen snow on a beach by the sea,
the first dawn of spring,
dew which gives morning its mystery,
full warmth of summer
and birds flying free....
Thou art all four seasons to me!
poem by Lady Lilith
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Last Days of Summer
Whatever the way the summer days end,
In the type of summer is how it has been,
Whether a good one or bad one,
The last days of summer,
Can be sad or happy endings,
As each season ends,
With another one beginning,
The summer could have been,
Miserable yet,
Sun scorching us everyday,
And sunlight shining on all our faces,
It is how it is,
Out there where all is seen,
In,
Summer days of fun,
Summer days of love,
Summer days of seeing,
Summer days of been,
Out and about where summer is,
And when summer came and went?
With a mundane feeling that it left?
Was the last days of summer,
And the begining of another,
Autumn as we know it,
Fall in other places,
Where the ending of one season shows,
By the decaying of it,
When Autumn Fall shows,
Where we will wrap up and snuggle,
With warm cuppas drinks,
With a book,
Or,
Catch up on watching films,
Yet,
Still,
Musing over the summer days,
Of sunshine memories,
Now,
Warm hats and gloves,
With rustle leaves,
That rustle beneath,
Our feet as we walk,
Through the park,
And see,
The summer leaves turn,
To autumn shades,
Taking in,
The last days of summer,
Reflecting,
And remember,
The falls of Autumn's,
Is the signs of summer,
That has ended,
And minglings with,
All that falls,
From the summer ending,
To autumn beginnings,
Is the,
Decaying,
Of summer,
To regrow itself,
For next season's of summer,
When it begins again,
Yet,
In between,
There's,
Autumn,
Winter,
Spring,
Till,
Again,
Last days of summer,
And all in bloom again.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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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
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The Spring—Time, O The Spring--Time
The Spring-time, O the Spring-time!
Who does not know it well?
When the little birds begin to build,
And the buds begin to swell.
When the sun with the clouds plays hide-and-seek,
And the lambs are bucking and bleating,
And the colour mounts to the maiden's cheek,
And the cuckoo scatters greeting;
In the Spring-time, joyous Spring-time!
The Summer, O the Summer!
Who does not know it well?
When the ringdoves coo the long day through,
And the bee refills his cell.
When the swish of the mower is heard at morn,
And we all in the woods go roaming,
And waiting is over, and love is born,
And shy lips meet in the gloaming;
In the Summer, ripening Summer!
The Autumn, O the Autumn!
Who does not know it well?
When the leaf turns brown, and the mast drops down,
And the chestnut splits its shell.
When we muse o'er the days that have gone before,
And the days that will follow after,
When the grain lies deep on the winnowing-floor,
And the plump gourd hangs from the rafter;
In the Autumn, thoughtful Autumn!
The Winter, O the Winter!
Who does not know it well?
When, day after day, the fields stretch gray,
And the peewit wails on the fell.
When we close up the crannies and shut out the cold,
And the wind sounds hoarse and hollow,
And our dead loves sleep in the churchyard mould,
And we feel that we soon shall follow;
In the Winter, mournful Winter!
poem by Alfred Austin
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Autumn (Tree)
The last leaf of summer falls
A tear of summer past.
Winter is coming, darkness calls.
Getting earlier, night arrives fast.
Insects no longer fly,
As frost starts to lie.
Coating the ground in blankets of white,
All bare the tree stands still in fright.
Through empty branches, the wind blasts,
The wood remembers summer last.
When all was green and not yellow,
When summer’s breeze kiss was mellow.
Only a few months, the tree must hold
For spring will make it bold.
With new leaves growing, new to old,
Summer arrives, arms to unfold.
poem by Ben Littlechild
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Oh unchanging tree
Such a beautiful thing Is a tree.
In summer, in winter, in spring, in fall
the beauty of a tree, doesn't change at all
The leaves fall to the ground
all the richest beautiful color
can be found
The snow falls
but it doesn't hurt the tree,
it just lays on it's branches
like frosting on a cake
Then it gets warm, the snow melts.
Say goodbye to to winter, say hello to sping.
New life is such a beautiful thing
But so is the tree, the beautiful mighty tree.
That stands alone as the seasons pass
as when you were old or just a lass.
A tree must have a heart, because when it falls to the ground.
No Joy can be found..
So when you see a tree say hello, they can get lonely you know.
Tell them a story, tell them a poem, they will listen.
This I know
poem by Summer Song
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Verses For Pictures
Day.
I am Day; I bring again
Life and glory, Love and pain:
Awake, arise! from death to death
Through me the World’s tale quickeneth.
Spring.
Spring am I, too soft of heart
Much to speak ere I depart:
Ask the Summer-tide to prove
The abundance of my love.
Summer.
Summer looked for long am I;
Much shall change or e’er I die.
Prithee take it not amiss
Though I weary thee with bliss.
Autumn.
Laden Autumn here I stand
Worn of heart, and weak of hand:
Nought but rest seems good to me,
Speak the word that sets me free.
Winter.
I am Winter, that do keep
Longing safe amidst of sleep:
Who shall say if I were dead
What should be remembered?
Night.
I am Night: I bring again
Hope of pleasure, rest from pain:
Thoughts unsaid ’twixt Life and Death
My fruitful silence quickeneth.
poem by William Morris
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Nature's Season's
Season's come and season's go,
There are four in each year,
Of our time keeping.
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
In other parts of the world,
Their season's are called something else,
Each Season is,
Of different type,
Yet,
Two and Two,
To begin and become,
Spring shows the begining,
Of growth and new season,
So for plants,
Vegetation,
Spring Chickens,
Spring Lambs,
The Calflings,
The Fouls,
All come in the Spring,
And flourish in the Summer,
Summer shows bloom,
From the plants to the Fouls,
And all are seen in full bloom,
Even the birds and the bees,
Sing the songs,
Of spring and summer,
With the Sun's rays,
That shows nature,
In full bloom,
By the time,
All is in full bloom,
And what shows and blooms,
Blossoms all summer,
And just when we are relaxed,
And see no clouds in the sky,
The seson changes,
Beginning with,
The fall,
Autumn's,
Season,
Commences to begin,
Where,
All in bloom,
Falls away and decays,
While the rest,
Fly away,
And,
Migrate,
Or,
Hibernate,
And just when,
We have seen it all disappear,
The frost and snow,
Covers all over,
And chills the air,
Where the chilling effect,
Kills off all decay,
And the blue ice time period,
Takes over for a time,
Chilling,
Freeezing,
Keeping everything beneath the earth,
As winter sets itself right in,
And far beneath the froasted earth,
Is all in nature,
Rekindling itself,
To regrowth itself,
And then spring growth,
Again,
Next season,
That starts the circle of life,
2 x 2 = 4,
The four seasons,
Of,
Our circle of life,
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
The four seasons,
Of ours,
That is 2 x 2,
Spring and Summer,
Then,
Autumn and Winter,
That makes it known,
As 4 seasons,
To us all.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Encyclical
The spring will come and summer too
Just as they are intended to.
Then autumn will take summers place
This is a cycle not a race.
Then in due course winter will reign
When winter ends spring comes again.
The earth will waken from its rest
Each season does what it does best.
Spring is the time to plough and sow
The summer provides time to grow
when crops are slowly ripening
In autumn comes the harvesting.
When all the crops are gathered in
and safely stored in box and bin.
Nature decrees a time of rest
an age old plan that’s stood times test.
Each season has its part to play
It reigns a while then clears the way
For the next one to follow on
They’ve played their part time to be gone.
31-Jan-09
http: // blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A leaf blade
In spring, as velvet
Soft and brown,
In summer, a carpet
Firm and green,
In autumn, a doormat
Coarse and yellow
And in winter, a wire-mesh
White like a skeleton,
A leaf blade lives through,
With its glory buried with it.
16.10.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Autumn Thoughts
Gone hath the Spring, with all its flowers,
And gone the Summer's pomp and show,
And Autumn, in his leafless bowers,
Is waiting for the Winter's snow.
I said to Earth, so cold and gray,
'An emblem of myself thou art.'
'Not so,' the Earth did seem to say,
'For Spring shall warm my frozen heart.'
I soothe my wintry sleep with dreams
Of warmer sun and softer rain,
And wait to hear the sound of streams
And songs of merry birds again.
But thou, from whom the Spring hath gone,
For whom the flowers no longer blow,
Who standest blighted and forlorn,
Like Autumn waiting for the snow;
No hope is thine of sunnier hours,
Thy Winter shall no more depart;
No Spring revive thy wasted flowers,
Nor Summer warm thy frozen heart.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Different Winds
Autumn gusts
coldish
death red and orange
prophesy of a massacre of green and hopefullness
(the poem dips)
winter wind
bitinig
cold
every thing is waiting
like rivers of frozen paper slicing through the air
(the poem falls dead)
spring breeze
round
warmish
enveloping my heart
yellowish green breezes blow through class room windows
begging me to fly
(the poem swells and wishes to grow)
summer breezes
i dont remember.
(the swelling poem hesitates)
but soon i will alight upon a breeze of summer
and swim through the air and sea
so i will never forget the taste
of summer air
(the poem waits contentedly for a forgotten wind to sweep it away)