0022 November
November, I’m almost ready now
to take you on:
every year
you throw all that you can at me –
above all, that sadness which lurks beyond
the all and any reason; steals into the blood;
taps at the heart with long-forgotten regrets,
drains the energy; lurks with all its
theatre tricks and stage props –
in the countryside, leaves falling like failed dreams,
their smell underfoot, of earth and rain and snow and mud;
in the town, the acrid smell of sodden fireworks; then come
poppies and guns, trenches, death,
and waste of life, futility and war;
draining the light from brief sad afternoons,
the grey depressing drizzle of eternity without hope..
warping thought, draining enthusiasm,
blunting the sharp edge of pleasure;
you’ll carry your campaign right through
December if you can…as the spirit wearies, daylight fades,
do all you can to ruin Christmas; already linking arms
with New Year bleakness to complete your ruthless task..
November, I’m almost ready now
to take you on: knowing you
for what you are: the yearly test
of inner resources and resilience,
the soul stripped bare; bare branches
stripped of leaves; king and fool
together on the heath in storm,
bare humanity… so
I’ll be prepared – turn the heat up,
stoke the heart’s fires;
drink myself sociable; consider charity;
think of others; play with generosity;
remember love; stand fast as faith;
be hope itself; not look outside
for all that’s inner to be found;
be all that’s Spring and strong
and damn the passing seasons; dance
with merriment and laughter; be
strong as roughbarked tree trunk
bending in a winter gale, standing
stronger from the test;
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
There and back again for M 'lady Chitra
There are no blossoms to be seen.
They’ve served their turn and left the stage
The trees are clad in shades of green
One further step on their passage
from the bare twigs of winter time.
Stark silhouettes against the sky
then blossom time which is sublime
Providing pleasure for the eye/
The trees are in their summer dress
More subtle than their spring attire.
Waiting for autumn to impress
with leaves that seem to be on fire.
The autumn winds well strip them bare
and spread their glory on the ground.
A coloured blanket everywhere.
and twigs now dancing to the sound
of early winter gales that blow.
Creating eerie harmonies,
bare branches moving to and fro
produce discordant melodies.
The trees endure the winters rage,
the bitter cold and falling snow,
The know it’s just another stage
they’re well prepared to undergo.
Before the welcome spring returns
to prompt new tender leaves to grow
Followed by blossoms in their turn.
As seasons come and seasons go,
07/06/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Your Stronger Than He Ever Was
When you’re down
And you think you can’t
Get back up without him
Think of your friend
Your family
The ones that love you the most
if you think you need him
To carry on with your burdens
bare in mind we are here
To help carry you to higher ground
if you think you can’t live without
Him who lays waste to your heart
bare in mind we love you
With all our hearts
And will protect you from harm
should you feel down and out
With the misery he causes to your heart
bare in mind we your family
Will be there to mend your broken heart
once you know you can live without him
He who tears the life from your soul
bare in mind we your family
Will be there to bring back
To your home your own living soul
bare in mind we will give back to you
Strength to carry on and make you strong
and when you learn to be strong
When you learn to move on
we smile with pride knowing
You’re stronger than he ever was
poem by Kaila George
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XVIII
HE LAMENTS THAT HIS LOVE IS DEAD
My love is dead, dead and in spite of me,--
Dead while I lived,--while yet my blood was rife
With hope and pleasure and the pride of life.
For my love ended unexpectedly
During the Winter, stricken like a tree
By a night's cold, and frozen to the blood,
Whose leaves fell off and never were renewed
By any promise of the years to be.
And, when the Spring came, and the birds, to mate
Among its branches, lo! they found it bare,
Though all around was Summer in the wood.
Yet they took heart awhile, incredulous
That such a tree should be for ever dead.
``'Tis early yet,'' they cried. ``The Spring is late.
It shall still be as in the days that were.''
But Summer came and went while the tree stood
Bare in the sun like a deserted house.
--Then the birds suddenly despaired and fled.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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In another time of year
There are autumn leaves
creaking under my shoes,
some of the trees are stripped bare
and the wind has a chill
that cuts right through all my clothes.
It is as if the whole of nature longs
for leaves to be hanging on branches,
for a bright hot sun,
and for rain to come at the right time
but when I am with you
it’s as if we
are in another time of year
where no cold winds blow
and you cuddle me in your sunny world.
When I hear your heart beat
through your bare body,
your skin clings possessively against mine,
I see suns living in your eyes,
you lead me to a magical garden
and I wonder what has to happen
to make our spring
a summer?
poem by Gert Strydom
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Now is The Winter With Trees Stripped Naked
Now is the winter with trees naked
when there is cold and sifting rain,
stripped bare without leaves
and then you first come past and then to me
like a sun rising over the horizon
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet, laughing and glad
and your company is full of fun
in bands of gathering fog.
Now is the winter with trees naked
cutting off every ray and light
and I know our time is only borrowed,
like a sun rising over the horizon
but stopping the rays in this winter,
in a cold world without hope or pity,
stripped bare without leaves
where you shake out your hair like a dog does with rain,
whereupon I take the clips from your hair
and I know our time is only borrowed
but your are glorious like a poster
and for long moments time is missing.
Now is the winter with trees naked
with bliss descending between us
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
whereupon I take the clips from your hair
and I see your beauty
our passion goes to practical reality,
stripped bare without leaves
we shine like the world outside in vulnerability like rainbows,
where passion sweeps us away from uncovering
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
pretty, pure and untouched
in moments of ecstasy without fatigue.
Now is the winter with trees naked
stripped bare without leaves
and I am totally lost in you.
and then you first come past and then to me,
where passion sweeps us away from uncovering
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet, laughing and glad.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Matt
A noose is laid down from me on the ground but,
I have a nose to smell this trap!
But death is hungry for all of us on this earth.
We have to move on with our various attitudes,
But let us always try to do the right thing;
And like the sweet birds singing to us aloud!
You have stripped me of my honour and,
You have stripped yourself bare before me!
But i escaped the trap only with the skin of my teeth!
I am ready for love and Matt is my lover in this town,
But there are traps set before me!
And i have to watch my steps in all the things that i do with Matt.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My November Guest
My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise
poem by Robert Frost
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Sestina - Cycling
November bomb-fires refuse to take light
Like sultry splutters of a lazy passion.
And drowsy hedgehogs under dead, damp wood
Dream snail’s trail filaments of kiss and touch.
Autumnal sodden leaves, leave underfoot,
A worn, discarded carpet once so lush.
Cold winter heart of mornings, sunlight lush,
Spangle frosts on bare branches and delight
In shining grass blades crunching underfoot.
Invade my sleepy heart, excite my passion.
I yearn for kisses, search for trembling touch.
Tentatively snap dead-wood’s bitter wood.
Rising greenly, sap springs through new wood,
Feeding fresh leaf, nourishing bud till lush
Summer arrives. Await the radiant touch!
Anticipate! The sun’s young rays spread light,
Tempting seeds of lust to swell in passion,
Crushing memories which echo underfoot.
Wise warnings thud above whilst underfoot
The thundering tramplings of the wild, wild wood
Call out. “Unleash your thwarted passion.
Drink in the nectar of life’s root, the lush
Intoxicating spirit that sets light
Your body with the need for urgent touch.
Laden boughs bend overhead to touch
A verdant rug of green laid underfoot.
Sky brightness winks and blinks. The broken light
Peeps through. Charcoal dark, my cleft heart of wood
Remnant of fire, lies guarded in the lush
Cutting blades of grass that hide my passion.
Leaves scuttle, dry husks rush round with passion
Press-ganged by the wind. Gems dyed by the touch
Of death in glowing hues. Fruit full and lush
With wasps, reaping juice fallen underfoot.
For good, my soul is yearly marked like wood
Rings revealing all, sealed away from light.
Envoi
Can passion trampled underfoot spring up
Again? Can touch revive the flame in wood
Snuffed by lush, lush rain? Can kisses make light?
poem by Janet Budd
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Bare-Limbed Tree
summer gone to dog days,
autumn approaches on a
strange wind....
i long to watch the leaves turn,
and fall, tiny love stories
that no one else can see.
and the sound the bare-limbed
tree makes... reaching for the sky,
reaching through winter for
the spring....
the smell of woodsmoke,
coffee and brandy by the fire...
a thousand memories turned
to brown, lost to eternal moments,
i am that bare-limbed tree!
reaching for the sky, reaching
for another spring.... reaching
through death, reaching for you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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[revised 11-19-09] Getting Through October and Beyond
What was it about October
That made us think
Spring would not be coming back?
The weather rattled at us,
Leaves fell,
Leaving us feeling
It's not going to get any better.
No amount of experience or
Logic will helped,
Spring last year didn't help,
When the shorter days of
Fall and Winter closed in.
Beyond October?
What was it about October
That assured us
Spring will be coming back?
The weather hinted of changes,
Leaves brave enough
To let go one by one,
Or be pushed in bunches by the wind
Took momentary flight, and
Abandoned their accustomed tree.
They made room for new buds
Provided cover for the soil and
Food for those below.
Lots of work to get ready
For Spring next year and to
Just get through Fall and Winter.
Then came November.
November brought
What October teased.
October warned us,
Rushed at us,
Then seemed to pull back
Like a gentle rolling surf.
On a rough November day
A wave rushed over our heads
Knocked us down and threatened
To pull us far out to sea.
As we floated
We saw the shore disappear.
No one will come to help.
They won't even know we're gone.
'I've got to get to December! '
We scream.
'New Year's Day! Easter!
May Day! MAY DAY! '
And we will
Even if we have no idea
Why or how
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Christmas Everyday
He was born so far away
So the story's told
We remember Christmas Day
When winter days grow cold
With the time it passes by
We put away the trim
Then we live and wonder why
We can't remember Him
The Christmas star shines once a year
And then it fades away
Keep the spirit in your-our heart
It's Christmas everyday (christmas everyday)
It's not the bells and it's not the snow
And it's not the gifts we get
But He was born so long ago
It's easy to forget
Peace on earth, good will to-oo men
But men can't go alone
We get lost along the way
But He can bring us ho-o-o-o-o-o-ome
Remember Him throughout the year
Without the star above
He left us all a Christmas gift
He left the gift of love
The Christmas star shines once a year
And then it fades away
Keep the spirit in your-our heart
And it's Christmas every day...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Palinode for an equinox
this time of year offers
naught for our comfort
so it might appear
days draw in. the year
seems tired at the thought
of doing it all over again
colder as if
the heart has said its last
and hope itself had forgotten
what it's supposed to do
this time of year
is a test of mind. a huge
seasonal game, thought up
by a child's wisdom and
suppressed laughter, lips
bubbling with love
on a sunny day, this time of year,
feel the spring, with
suppressed laughter haha caught you
stealing in like Dad to your bedroom on
Christmas Eve with
something the heart hopes for
but didn't expect it would get this year
pull this cracker with me
and a little present falls out
wrapped in a curl of timeless...
here, read it for yourself
poem by Michael Shepherd
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December
December is the cruelest month
But this time for once my cheeks are warm
After long years in the monkey-house
I am ready for the storm
Let them throw all their cannonballs
Let all their strongmen come
Im ready to go anywhere
Through venom, sick and scum!
December isnt always cold
But this year shes mine and I know why
Somewhere a flower has to grow
For every flower that dies
Im stricken with fever
But my heart is strong as steel
Im ready to go anywhere!
I can believe, I can feel!
December is a trusted friend
I always recognise her face
Its a plague of fool blown aside
Forever by her soft and silent grace
She is reckless as a mayday
Gentle as a stone
And ready to go anywhere
To carry me back home!
December fell deep in the bleak
Mid-winter time when jesus christ
Howled a baby saviours howl
A primal truth as pure as ice
And though we crucified him on a cross
And dragged his name from payer to curse
He was able to go anywhere
He was almost one of us!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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December
December is the cruelest month
But this time for once my cheeks are warm
After long years in the monkey-house
I am ready for the storm
Let them throw all their cannonballs
Let all their strongmen come
Im ready to go anywhere
Through venom, sick and scum!
December isnt always cold
But this year shes mine and I know why
Somewhere a flower has to grow
For every flower that dies
Im stricken with fever
But my heart is strong as steel
Im ready to go anywhere!
I can believe, I can feel!
December is a trusted friend
I always recognise her face
Its a plague of fool blown aside
Forever by her soft and silent grace
She is reckless as a mayday
Gentle as a stone
And ready to go anywhere
To carry me back home!
December fell deep in the bleak
Mid-winter time when jesus christ
Howled a baby saviours howl
A primal truth as pure as ice
And though we crucified him on a cross
And dragged his name from payer to curse
He was able to go anywhere
He was almost one of us!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn: A Dirge
The warm sun is falling, the bleak wind is wailing,
The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,
And the Year
On the earth is her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,
Is lying.
Come, Months, come away,
From November to May,
In your saddest array;
Follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.
The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,
The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling
For the Year;
The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
To his dwelling.
Come, Months, come away;
Put on white, black and gray;
Let your light sisters play--
Ye, follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And make her grave green with tear on tear.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Winter rain
She comes as an uninvited guest
when she’s expected less
and in times of the year’s
cold misery
she falls like icicles
out of a grey winter sky.
Her coming when the faded earth
is at its bare rest
with stripped trees
and yellowed grass
and bare patches
where flowers should be;
vexes me, as nothing rise when she falls
and just more chill follows her drops.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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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
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When the Year grows Old
I cannot but remember
When the year grows old --
October -- November --
How she disliked the cold!
She used to watch the swallows
Go down across the sky,
And turn from the window
With a little sharp sigh.
And often when the brown leaves
Were brittle on the ground,
And the wind in the chimney
Made a melancholy sound,
She had a look about her
That I wish I could forget --
The look of a scared thing
Sitting in a net!
Oh, beautiful at nightfall
The soft spitting snow!
And beautiful the bare boughs
Rubbing to and fro!
But the roaring of the fire,
And the warmth of fur,
And the boiling of the kettle
Were beautiful to her!
I cannot but remember
When the year grows old --
October -- November --
How she disliked the cold!
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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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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