Spring and All
By the road to the contagious hospital
under the surge of the blue
mottled clouds driven from the
northeast -- a cold wind. Beyond, the
waste of broad, muddy fields
brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen
patches of standing water
the scattering of tall trees
All along the road the reddish
purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy
stuff of bushes and small trees
with dead, brown leaves under them
leafless vines --
Lifeless in appearance, sluggish
dazed spring approaches --
They enter the new world naked,
cold, uncertain of all
save that they enter. All about them
the cold, familiar wind --
Now the grass, tomorrow
the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf
One by one objects are defined --
It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf
But now the stark dignity of
entrance -- Still, the profound change
has come upon them: rooted they
grip down and begin to awaken
poem by William Carlos Williams
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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
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Whispering Wind
Standing amid the forest trees
I feel so insignificant.
Small and unimportant can be
Very humbling among the plants
And underbrush that are dwarfed by
The regal, deciduous trees.
Quiet is defined by the sigh
Of the wind breathing through the leaves
And serenity thrives beneath
This lushest leaf-green canopy.
I walk along an ancient path
Once tread by aborigines.
Then, out of the blue, the soft wind
Whispered, ” you're home again my friend.”
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Falling Leaves
Summer has passed, but
The weather is still fair.
The once leaf-laden trees,
Are, now, almost bear.
Leaves spiral down;
Spinning round and round,
Until, at last, they
Reach the ground.
The once green leaves,
Have now grown old,
And have created below,
A carpet of red, brown, and gold.
Whipped around by the wind,
The fallen leaves, float and fly.
A sudden gust of wind, catches them,
Sending them, sailing up high.
Leaves crunch underfoot;
They curl and decay.
There's a musty smell in the air,
As they slowly, waste away.
Soon the leaves will be gone,
And where they once had lain,
Will be just their lacy skeleton;
Soon, only an impression will remain.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Brown Leaf Along The Road Near The River
it a brown leaf.
it falls from a tall tree
and slowly it stops
at the bottom of the
road in Bankerohan...
it is a sunny day
for a week and the brown leaf
stays there
for there is no wind...
a beautiful maiden
picks it up one day... so crisp...
it crumples in her very own
hand...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A journey through an interminable poetic landscape
In the midst of the dense thicket
of the poet-milky wood, just beyond the gas pumps
standing as lonely as a trio of crows
waiting for a poet’s metaphor, and just beyond
where the pavement ends,
the road divided:
I took the road less travelled,
- unlike, say, a wise purveyor of ice-cream;
pausing only to think, as the evening
fell like sadness from my cigarette, that
the other road will be for me
for ever, the road I did not take
into the landscape which I did not see,
in the time that will not return;
but the road I took, led past
plum-trees, showering Spring’s wild daffodils
as with a late Spring snow, falling quietly
like the sighs of young slant-eyed girls thinking of love;
I’m glad I took that road; for later, when Autumn
with its mists and mellow plumful fruitiness,
came silently, so silently,
I took that road again; although I’m told
the other road was much the same;
but now, as the brown leaves fell and swirled,
the small, hard plums had fallen;
I took some home, put them in the ice-box;
were they juicy, cold on my morning lips?
No. They’d gone; along with the girl
I’d brought home, and the crate of beer;
just a note on the ice-box door:
‘I used to worship your poetry; now
I know that you’ve sold out… loser…’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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September Morn
I watch the World around me
As again I hear nature call
For it is the end of summertime
And the awakening of a beautiful fall.
The leaves have changed their colors
The skies became icy white
My heart becomes exceedingly joyful
At Septembers, beautiful sight.
The rustling wind has turned to cold
The leaves have changed to brown
This moment, I pray to hold
As the leaves fall onto the ground.
The squirrels scurry from their trees
The birds have all flown away
It is another September morning
I feel it with each step that I take.
With a cold wind against my back
I journey to a great tree
To pick up the jewels that she left there
An acorn, and a lonely leaf.
I shiver as I walk
With a leaf and acorn in hand
I watch fall as it arrives around me,
So happy is this man.
I then walk up unto my wife
I present her with the leaf and acorn
So happy I am with this fall,
That I give Her my September morn.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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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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Orange Leaf
Orange leaf passing by
The air is stiff
And cold
Orange leaf passing by
Flying over the snow
Orange leaf passing by
Riding over the snow.
Past the oak tree
The old house is silent
Orange leaf
Fly with the wind
And snow
Fly past the frozen lake
Fish sleeping beneath
Its crystal surface
Orange leaf
fly to the sea
And wait
To be picked up
And carried off
Orange leaf passing by
The air is stiff
And cold
Orange leaf passing by
Flying over the snow
poem by Jesse love
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1: 38 Dawn...
inside the room
divided by the light brown drapes
between me and the window
beyond the steel gates
is the world... it is cold and dark
and there is no one
walking on the road...i peep
and let the cold wind
enter the orifice of
my nostrils...it is cold and dark
and there is no one in this house...
everyone is either asleep
or gone away for good,
their names are listed and
there are some
short biographies...this must
be a little scary
says the listening wall...
it is. Sickness confronts
the eyes of those who want to
write some short notes
of their brief stay
or visit as you want to call it...
Eye to eye, in the most silent
silence, the man in his usual
black robe,
through his hands
speak.
and the world trembles
we want to kneel and ask for more
but nothing
shall be given.... that is a
fact.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cemetery Drive
cemetery drive,
covered in mist,
driving down the road,
so cold,
the crypts and tombstones cast dark shadow,
the bats and the wind,
grimly howl,
cemetery drive,
a place of shadow,
cemetery drive,
tall dead trees,
comfort the dead,
black roses grow along the road,
they fight the cold,
and give the living hope,
the living hope their hearts never stop,
and they'll never have to call cemetery drive home,
and tend to the shadows and black roses
poem by Catie Belle Stark
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Salamander
It was a cold spring morning.
During a walk at Oxbow Park
I ran across a reddish-brown
salamander in the middle of
the paved road. Reaching down
I touched its tail and it twitched
slightly. It was clear that the
salamander was just chilled
and was moving slow as
cold amphibians do.
I picked up the creature and
carried it to the side of the
road, where I gently placed it
on the ground beneath a Salal shrub.
Walking on I reflected on
what it might be like to be that
salamander sitting in the road.
Being approached by a giant being
that could pick me up and with little
effort, move me to safety.
I must have seemed like
a god to that small salamander.
I further reflected about just how we
humans must look to greater beings
than us. Would we not see them as gods?
In that moment I felt gigantic and minuscule,
all at the same time…
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Patches Of
patches of sunlight,
patches of clouds.
patches of Jesus,
patches of doubt.
patches of joy,
patches of pain.
patches of hope,
patches of strain.
patches of tomorrow,
patches of today.
patches of forever,
patches of 'cant stay'!
patches of loving,
patches of cold.
patches of youth,
patches of old.
patches of bravery.
patches of fear.
patches of happiness,
patches of tears.
patches of life,
patches of death.
patches of trying
with your last breath!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Winter Rhapsody
The leafless, arthritic branches
of the sycamore and maple
trees stretched their grotesque, naked forms
now stripped by the blasts of winter;
splaying drearily overhead
casting cold, rickety shadows
over recently fallen snow.
A prevailing wind rushes through
the trees and a choir of creaks
begin their rasping rhapsody.
A momentary lull begins
and the wooded composition
in a Larghissimo tempo
ends on a melancholy note.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Summer's Wind
Be weary, Lord of the summer wind,
Lord of the heat that you blow in,
Away with flowers, land and trees,
To stay them not, least all the trees.
Listen to this, all that I say,
Our land does die, and drift away.
Our living born upon the wind,
All of ours, and those of friends.
So we called upon the leave-filled wind,
The autumn one, of which were friends.
This wind of cool and gentle hand,
Not like the wind that stole our land.
And the heat did melt into the leaves,
And turned them colors from the trees.
Then the leave-filled wind bore them away,
And upon the land, they came to stay.
And stayed them there, till land-hard cold,
And then the land, the leaves they stole.
And after the harsh cold wind had blown,
And living soil again was sown,
Summer's wind came again to prey,
Upon our lands, most every day.
But our living land, the leaves did save,
And the summer's wind did blow away,
Never to re-live, the seasons day.
The cool soft wind now blows so free,
Upon the land, and through the trees.
All through the people, and over me.
poem by Sandra Osborne
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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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Like a leaf in the wind
Her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
Clinging on to tree of life
With nothing more than hope
Devoid of pretense
Shorn of desires
Tossed about, at the whim of a gathering storm
Dark cold has slowed the sap
But deep inside, life fights to surge through
Longing for the next sunny day
When the sap will ease through fluid pathways
Until then, her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
On a high branch she clings alone
While the other leaves huddle
Warm in their numbers
Sheltered in low branches
Wondering how she has lasted so long
While her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
When the storm blows harder,
She sometimes feels close to giving up
And sinking quietly to the ground below
Returning to dust, from where she arose
But something in her refuses to let go
While her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
So come wind, come storm,
Blow as you might
She will cling on to the tree of life
This lone leaf will fight.
poem by Anita Atina
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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
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The Cold, Dark Wind
A cold wind blows 'cross the mountainside
Clouds fill the sky
Overcoming with their dark'ning might
Beasts of darkness that shun the light
Only come out when the wind blows 'cross the night sky
Gath'ring the beasts of darkness that shun the light
Mighty, mighty
Storms igniting
Ever-changing with the cold wind
That blows through the trees
An unknown evil has a grip on this world
With a dreadful fate is about to show
That there is good, but more is sin
Left to fly with that cold, dark wind
poem by by unknown author
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Shadows And Tall Trees
Back to the cold restless streets at night
I talk to myself about tomorrow night
Walls of white protest
A gravestone in name
Who is it now
It's always the same
Who is it now
Who calls me inside
Are the leaves on the trees
Just living disguise
I walk sweet rain tragicomedy
I'll walk home again
to the street melody
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Life through a window
Discoloured pain
Mrs. Brown's washing is always the same
I walk street rain tragicomedy
I'll walk home again
to the street melody
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
(Out there)
Do you feel in me...
Anything redeeming
Any worthwhile feeling
Is love like a tightrope
Hanging from the ceiling
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
Shadows and Tall Trees
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bridge, The
I once
as a young boy
stood on a little
wooden country bridge;
tip-toed to look at
the languid moving water
Tomorrow popped up -
the wind that had blown in
tore off a leaf from
a tall standing tree
roots entrenched
by the water's edge
and this leaf
wafted and fluttered
and glided into the
current below
taken bodily
where gravity pulls
and drifted upon the
wavelets lapping
and pushing
its severed self
far, far away into
the distance
I heard the crickets
and the cicadas
droning in the
afternoon sun;
those things could
ruin your ears!
and all the while
I gazed upon the
fallen leaf
hoping to spy on
what the future
promised downstream:
that if I let go
of whatever it was
that kept me there
feet dangling through
the rusted railing;
heart racing
would I wake up
and return to the
bustling world
unable to swim
against the current
rudely torn off
poem by Frederick Kesner
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