Winter's tree of leaf and bird
Winter's tree, of leaf and bird,
of mystery stripped
silent and spare
where living glade
with leafy trunk and fragrant limb
once hid mockingbirds
as they played
through drowsy summer's
longest day.
But now in winter's brittle chill
all is silent, all is still
as death works out
his hollow will.
poem by Steven Federle
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Related quotes
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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Walk With the Wind 6
31
the wind goes around
circling the trees and bushes
this October noon
32
drooping leaves yellow
on to the ground of the night
winter slowly walks
33
as the wind blows
with its many hollow voices
- night goes to star fall
34
momentarily breeze
over my roof and windows
singing for winter
35
no longer living
the bouquets of yesterday
- dried for ornament
36
inside the forest
the silent goes lonely by
- single ruffling leaf
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Winter And Summer
Come Winter, merry Winter,
Rejoice while yet you may,
For nearer, ever nearer,
Fair Summer draws each day,
And soon the tiny snowdrops
Shall waken from their sleep,
And, mossy banks from under,
The modest violets peep.
The apple trees shall scatter
Their buds at Summer's feet,
And with their fragrant odors
Make every zephyr sweet;
While Nature, of wild roses,
And lilies frail and white,
Shall make a wreath for Summer,
And crown her with delight.
Forth from the smiling heavens
Shall fall the gentle rain,
The earth shall feel her presence
And welcome her with grain;
The birds shall come and twitter,
And build amid the boughs,
So Winter, merry Winter,
While yet you may, carouse.
We love you, merry Winter,
You and the joys you bring,
And loud and long your praises
Throughout the world we sing;
But Summer, gentle Summer,
Comes shyly through the glade,
And draws all hearts to love her,
So fair is she arrayed.
We love the merry sleighing,
The swinging snowshoe tramp,
While in the clear, cold heavens
The calm moon holds her lamp,
We love the breathless coasting.
The skating and the games
Played amid shouts of laughter,
Around the hearth-fire flames.
But Summer, winsome Summer,
Holds greater stores of bliss,
When all the land awakens,
And blossoms at her kiss;
We soon shall feel her presence,
And breathe her perfumed breath,
Then, Winter, dear old Winter,
We will not mourn your death.
poem by Arthur Weir
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Winter chill
Winter chill is here
It is getting near
All those christams days
Are different ways
Winter chill will soon go
Everyone is low
Its time to say goodbye
And make spirits high
Winter chill has finally gone, spring is near
When winter chill has gone everyone give a cheer
In spring its hot and sunny
I'll see you there chummy
poem by Hannah Law
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When in winter summer is dead (cyhydedd fer sonnet)
When in winter summer is truly dead,
when the all flowers and leaves are shed
still I hear the dove's lovely coo and sing
as if they are whispering about spring.
Even when the cold winter winds sweep in
the ripe to the remaining plants death bring,
when birds to a distant summer have fled
to follow them your wings you do not spread.
There must be a kind of greatness, something
in romantically together living
there are icy and stripped days ahead,
promising a summer sun rising red
lies always somewhere in the near beyond,
like a dropp falling, falling in a pond.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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Winter Must Be Cold With No Memories
Winter is a lonely season
if you have no one.
The snow lays on the ground,
white and pale as death.
You walk along any beach
see how deserted it can be.
Empty as a broken heart
living in loneliness.
For some winter
must be cold with no memories.
Something to lift the evening chill
to warm summer days
of two hearts entwined.
So winter can be cold
with no memories
of warm and happier times.
28 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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Ave, Caesar!
From the winter's grey despair,
From the summer's golden languor,
Death, the lover of Life,
Frees us for ever.
Inevitable, silent, unseen,
Everywhere always,
Shadow by night and as light in the day,
Signs she at last to her chosen;
And, as she waves them forth,
Sorrow and Joy
Lay by their looks and their voices,
Set down their hopes, and are made
One in the dim Forever.
Into the winter's grey delight,
Into the summer's golden dream,
Holy and high and impartial,
Death, the mother of Life,
Mingles all men for ever.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Our Tree
When spring comes round, our apple tree
Is very full of flowers,
And when a bird sits on a branch
The petals fall in showers.
When summer comes, our apple tree
Is very full of green,
And everywhere you look in it
There is a leafy screen.
When autumn comes, our apple tree
Is full of things to eat.
The apples hang from every branch
To tumble at our feet.
When winter comes, our apple tree
Is full of snow and ice
And rabbits come to visit it...
We think our tree is nice.
poem by Marchette Chute
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A Winter Message
A flake of snow in flurry thro’ the air
Had landed as a kiss upon my cheek:
A secret message, just for me to share;
To take to heart but never dare to speak
About or presuppose to other eyes
Your open feelings – distant though they are.
And so, upon your lips, my OWN surprise:
A flake of snow returned from me afar.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Winter's Summer
Winter without you is like
a summer in a winter, when memories
of your love murmur in my winter.
Summer in a winter was never been
hot as it is.when the memories
of your love thrills me today.
Winters summer were very rare when
we walked on the bed of purple flowers
with your affectionate look.
When I forget this heat and
hold you in my poetic arms, you
kiss my poem through your heart
in this winter.
winter's summer was very rare...
venky
poem by Venkatesh Nagaraj
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Poet's Day
No
Nothing
Night here
Through out the day
O Goodbye
Vibration scattered
O no
Nothing
Black and white
Fine birth death
Colorful journey
And I left
Just to said
Silent silent
Watch watch
No
Nothing
Nothing to rise
Nothing to fall
Throughout the night
Awake watch
Tree tree bird bird
Air and sky
My day
Poet's day.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A Winter Pond
Sting-chill of winter matt –
Her frozen hand caressed us all;
And calming bleach of silence
Pressed upon the rustic scape
To leave an ashen underbelly –
Once raging summer chroma.
Even Winter’s gelid lungs laboured
Under heavy drag of flakes –
Their pilgrimage: to stay a deadened floor
In crunch-white peace.
And round about, the weight of time
– Collapsing under Winter’s drag –
Transmutes to grey: it’s three o’clock –
No lights pricking black out here! –
Even the night globe,
The Great Reflector – stonewalled;
Camouflaged by lead-laden cloud
Lolling in the claustrophobic noon.
At ground, a farm pond –
Seized in a dark hiatus –
Offered up repentance –
Why, it dared to harbour life!
I forgave it in my desperate gaze
Upon the crazy-paving surface,
That sealed in the black-chill temperature,
Where at bottom, something nithered
Still survived.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
win ter winter
winter winter winter
winter winter winter winter winter
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Winter Bird
Winter bird, winter bird
Why are you still here?
It is now June, the bright sun has appeared.
The warmer temperatures are to arrive soon.
The snow is gone, and you should be too.
As well as the foilage that familiar to you.
There is a different rhythm in the air.
The smell of flowers blooming everywhere.
You should be in hidding, somewhere out there.
Awaiting your winter season inorder to appear.
Yet, I can see your presence and hear you quite clear.
Oh, dear bird of winter, why are you here?
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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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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Wintertime
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Oh how I missed the long nights and cold air
Noble winter do as whatever you please
Some bees hide in their trees
The fauna and flora in winter so rare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
You all mighty of all season that freeze the seas
Warm us with your artic flare
Noble winter do as whatever you please
Oh great winter now that I m on my knees
The snow might have something to spare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Yesterday was like a gentle kiss
There where so many stars to stare
Noble winter do as whatever you please
So you have brought us many diseases
Now in winter people so scare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Noble winter do as whatever you please
poem by Ayrtonn Bautista
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When Winter Suddenly Comes
When winter suddenly comes
year upon year I am caught by it,
when there is an end to growth,
when sudden change in age
strip branches, let's them hang lonely,
when winter suddenly comes
and it seems as if all of nature is dying,
when you long back to summer,
when there is an end to growth,
when with the ripe every spring flower wilts
and that an end is coming scares you,
when winter suddenly comes
you are astonished by the yellow-brown creeping death,
when even the bright bird songs wither,
when there is an end to growth,
and subtle even death claims its own property,
after years of decline of a life,
when winter suddenly comes,
when there is an end to growth.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Tree's Winter Cloak of White
Tree's winter cloak of white dressing done
Surviving rays of a cold hazy sun,
Like soldiers in line, strong tall held fast
Roots grip mother earth's soil to last,
Icicles glint on perches empty state,
Leaving squirrels in trunks cosy and warm, as
Deer tarry in the forest glade, no rest since dawn.
With body clocks this spring in time will keep
Dormant leaf buds stay moist with dew to seep,
By magic the beautiful tree purifies the air to breathe
By those with luck that the dead axe men did leave.
Stretched branches silent wisdom tending mother earth's cool
With Centuries passed man's brain wakes to the logging fool,
Is the animal cry in the forest of the night
A call to all living things spelling their plight.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Autumn's Surcease
I gave you hurtings
so that you might feel
Winter in your Soul.
I sometimes placed upon your heart
virgin olive oil
to succor it.
I piled high
in your eyes
Love and its Laments
as your cool wind
blew
down the Solstice.
I carried your
leaden comments
to the cemetery
where I buried them
with the other
dead things
and
I blew you
my last
Summer Kiss
for the luck
I know
you'd need.
Your last leaf
fell
from your waterless tree
revealing that
Summer Kisses
have no truck
or need
for rusty
dead leaves
carpeting
a Winter Soul;
twice dead
now skipping even
Autumn's
surcease
before your Winter blows.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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In Winter
Golden and white in the garden walk,
Chrysanthemums gather their bravest show,
‘Mid withered blossom and wilted stalk
Where never a rosebud dares to blow.
For winter is coming icy and stern
And the grasses rank in the paddocks hold
No plumy rushes or waving fern,
No buttercup treasures of fairy gold.
And on the bough of the peach-tree bare
‘Neath the curtained window open thrown,
All in the chill and frosty air
A little brown bird is singing alone.
Sing on little bird, for the sky grows red
And the night wind is rising cold and chill,
And Death is coming with footsteps dread
To the farmhouse under the lonely hill.
Over the mountain and down by the creek,
Stirring the rushes with icy breath,
Waileth the wind in the tree-tops bleak-
Rustling of wings of the angel of Death.
Sing on little bird from thy throbbing throat
She smiles to hear on her bed of pain;
When thou triest in summer they fuller note
No more will she listen and smile again.
Sing of the land where the roses bloom
In the glorious summer that lasts for aye;
Tell to the soul so near the tomb
What our trembling lips cannot bear to say.
How can we tell her of brighter skies
When faith seems failing and hope is fled?
God pity us all when the chill earth lies
Over the face of our darling dead!
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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