Seasonal Paradox
Spring slipped away unquantified,
Grasshopper’s summer sung unheard,
autumn, - frost disqualified,
now winter weights with final word.
Although the scope of time and tide
streams wider than before, absurd
seems life as measured – length of ride
distorts perspective, mockingbird
is time whose span’s beatified
by loins and conscience doubly stirred
to worship what should be defied
as jess and jester, bye byword.
This sonnet’s closing couplet each
needs frame for self – who self can’t reach!
poem by Jonathan Robin
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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
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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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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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Seasons of Promise
Winter is a time of warmth when I am close to you
A time of sharing stories and of praising what is true
The cold wind can be daunting when one is all alone
But Winter is a time of warmth when I am close to you
Spring is filled with wonderment when I am close to you
A time of bursting energy and life so bold and new
The rain can be quite chilling when one is all alone
But Spring is filled with wonderment when I am close to you
Summer's light is restful when I am close to you
As nature paints a picture with pleasing greens and blue
The heat can be exhausting when one is all alone
But Summer's light is restful when I am close to you
Autumn days are crisp and clear when I am close to you
The reds and golds come once again, yet always seem so new
Letting go brings sadness when one is all alone
But Autumn days are crisp and clear when I am close to you
I will be with you in Winter when snow is thick and cold
I will be with you in Springtime when new life is taking hold
I will be with you in Summer when sun and growth abound
I will be with you when Autumn's old life decorates the ground
poem by Mark Bratlie
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Powdered Kaolin
Autumn’s closing in now,
leaves have dressed the ground.
Laying in heaped profusion,
so still, making no sound.
Reds and rusts are mingling,
beneath each skeletal tree.
Tumbling when the breezes blow,
off on their reckless spree.
Misty are the mornings,
bad weather’s moving in.
Frost will appear on branches,
like powdered kaolin.
October, then November,
Summer is no longer here,
Chilly days are approaching,
the last leaves disappear.
Autumn’s closing in now,
with blustery winds so cold.
But, whatever Winter brings,
Spring will again unfold.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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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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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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Green Couplets 01 Lucid Cute Verse
The word ‘couplet' derives from the word ‘couple'— means one pair of anything. A couplet is the shortest and simplest form or type of poetry with a certain idea. It generally consists of single stanza of two lines of rhyming poetry that usually has the same meter. There is no hard and fast rule about length or rhythm.
As the shortest form of poetry couplets are green and attractive those proclaim Poems for Life.
Couplet— I
Orchid flower on the pot
Rainy summer not so hot
Couplet— II
Online romance chat is the key
Late night knows the honey-bee
Couplet— III
Moonbeam dropping dazzling night
Knocking the doors memories right.
Couplet— IV
Filipino cat in the dream
Crossing Ocean alone swims!
Couplet— V
Two leaves and a bud green leaf tea
Exploiting labors can we see?
Ashraful Musaddeq
poem by Ashraful Musaddeq
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A Light in My Winter
A light in my winter
For spring dreams to come
Shady darkish tinter
Where my summer is from
A light in white frost
For the blossoming dreams
Those with autumn were lost
In oblivion river streams
Each morning come glowing
With sunshine and day
Through the darkness going
To lead forthcoming way
When rose shall reddish
So lovesome in my bed
To bring in spring wish
Through their colors red
A light in my heart
To fulfill my dark eyes
For blossoms shall start
When there are blue skies
And again summer spring
With each beauty of worth
And birds in trees to sing
Every song of new earth
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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0243 The Sonnet
Why is this sonnet form so dear to me?
this silent cloister of the singing heart
where I may be myself in sanctity
yet meet beloved strangers there in art;
a shape like some great arch across the world
where every word has music in its sound;
a place like prayer, inner maze uncurled
to find a pattern in that measured ground;
a conversation with tomorrow's friends
of all we know but seldom talk about;
a haven in a time that never ends;
a love that's now a whisper, now a shout;
- to final couplet, falling heaven-blest
to stillness, in that space where all things rest.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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Seasons
Spring, a symbol of rebirth
Starting another season on earth
New buds open to the sun
Now the spring has begun.
Summer once again is here
Sky is wonderful blue and clear
Growths of colour on display
That's a lovely summers day.
Autumn leaves go blowing by
Lifting high up to the sky
Soon they scatter without sound
Gently cascading to the ground.
Winter comes around with branches bare
A spiders web in the suns pale glare
Frost so cold that it burns
Awaiting 'till the spring returns.
Every season a different thing
Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring
Cut the grass, shovel the snow
Or bake in the sun 'till you glow.
© Hazel 2010
poem by Hazel Connelly
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Metamorphosis - 3 variations on a theme
1. The Second law of Thermodynamics
Out of winter, spring,
out of spring, summer,
then autumn, winter,
and out of winter, spring,
always the same.
Out of the bud, growth,
out of the flower, seed,
out of death, life.
Entropy always increases.
2.
Once you were within my reach.
Suddenly you became a
g l i t
t e r
i n g
damselfly.
Just wait, I thought, I can change too.
Why did I have to turn into a frog?
3.
Consider the Paradoxical Frog,
so named because it is several times smaller
than its p h e n o m e n a l l y huge tadpole.
(But then, look at people,
whose achievements often fail to match
the promise they once showed.)
poem by Paul Hansford
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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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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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Passing Fashion
not yet it's
the first snow
of the season the sun is still coming out
from behind the clouds
and we are taking out from wardrobes
jackets, mini jackets,
coats, spring coats,
overcoats, fur-lined overcoats and winter furs
and covering to severe
frost and strong winds
with thrill of emotion
we are looking at spring
dresses
the last swimsuits
summer shoes
bought,
on the first day of the autumn
I will establish next year.
I wasn't in time,
because an autumn came and now
I can fail to meet the fashion
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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In A Minute Autumn
an autumn isn't only
golden and yellow leaves,
heated in the summer
sweet fruits juices and honey.
an autumn, it still
a sore throat, tiring,
a fever, and influenza,
and shivers.
an autumn is waiting
for the winter
a spring
for the summer
on it
what the time will bring
what for us the fate
has in the gift
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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There Is A Time For Poetry
THERE IS A TIME FOR POETRY
There is a time for Poetry
When Life cries out desperately for Help-
Or when Love overwhelms
Or Fear comes.
Spring is a time for Poetry
And Autumn also
Winter has its Poetry
And Summer too.
There is a time for Poetry
Which is any time the human heart needs
A deep time
A sad time
A Lonely time.
Any time-
A time for Poetry- Now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This First Full Day Of Spring
Today is the first day of Spring in the southern hemisphere.....
With spring the seasons start anew
The cycle starts again
As each fresh shoot begins to show
And pollen flowers send
The stirrings of this fecund time
The sun higher in the sky
A time of new awakenings
Set free from winter’s sigh
And so each spring time happening
With the promise that it brings
Reminds us all of life itself
And we give thanks for many things
The heady days of summer
Ripe autumn’s harvesting
For all that will be comes to us
This first full day of spring.
poem by David Keig
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Death Series 8 - Falling Leaves
The trees stood tall through early months,
and without hindrance they staked their claim,
'til autumn’s harsh indifference came.
Summer had it's blissful time,
Until autumn’s ending date,
revealing - that autumn is never late.
The season shall begin it’s work,
Turning all to deepest gold,
Taking life, changing young to old.
It shall write a grievous story,
That contains the most final of endings,
Pen poised, it starts the final chapters
To usher in winter’s restful ending.
poem by Ciaran Quirke
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