January as Poet-Lover
Those claims to summer far exceeds its charm
and slush of lines can't toboggan sonnet;
for winter's octave storms, but isn't warm,
sestet swoons- fringed with frost upon it.
Then wind will howl sheer air that it's a poem
for First of Months must bluster: 'I'm adored! '
It schemes blooms, find some dirty glee in loam-
Such dreams! unless what's frozen wets to poured.
Sure, northern lights style flair-yet coat of leaves?
That fashion's fallen season! Jan. will go
to parties; just with ice, and dance solo
avalanche at night; party slides like skis....
Month's quick as chills and yet it's sprawls slow ice
and tries to end with couplet, July twice!
Those claims to summer far exceeds its charm.
No slushy lines toboggan-glide on sonnet;
nor winter's octave storm go down as warm
while sestet swoons- cool, frost moon upon it.
Then bitter howl will bard sheer air for poem
as First of Months once blusters: ' first adored! '
To bloom- it schemes some dirty glee in loam-
a dream, unless what's frozen wets to poured.
Sure, northern lights style flair-yet coat of leaves?
That fashion's fallen season! Jan. will go
to parties; just with ice, and dance solo
avalanche at night; guests brawled down like skis....
Month's quick as chills and yet it's sprawls slow ice
with wish that couplet prints July in twice.
poem by Glenn Bagshaw
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Related quotes
Toboggan
1 Down from the hills and over the snow
2 Swift as a meteor's flash we go,
3 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
4 Down from the hills with our senses lost,
5 Jealous of cheeks that are kissed by the frost,
6 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
7 With snow piled high on housetop and hill,
8 O'er frozen rivulet, river, and rill,
9 Clad in her jacket of sealskin and fur,
10 Down from the hills I'm sliding with her,
11 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
12 Down from the hills, what an awful speed!
13 As if on the back of a frightened steed,
14 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
15 Down from the hills at the rise of the moon,
16 Merrily singing the toboggan tune,
17 "Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!"
18 Down from the hills like an arrow we fly,
19 Or a comet that whizzes along through the sky;
20 Down from the hills! Oh, isn't it grand!
21 Clasping your best winter girl by the hand,
22 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
23 Down from the hills and both growing old,
24 Down from the hills we are nearing the fold:
25 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
26 Close to the homestead we hear the ring
27 Of children's voices that cheerily sing,
28 "Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!"
29 Down from the hills and we hear the chime
30 Of bells that are ringing out Old Father Time;
31 Down from the hills we are riding away,
32 Nearing the life with its endless day;
33 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
poem by Benjamin Franklin King
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Long Lost Love and Winter Chills
The frost that bites my nose and the turning blue of toes,
The rose, the snow she spills,
Lost love and winter chills.
The Christmas lights that twinkled, happy smiles from happy people,
Winter moon she beckons still,
Long lost love and winter chills.
The ragged tramp alone, in a doorway does bemoan,
Alas for the tinsel thrills,
Farewell to love and winter chills.
The time that Christ was born, another child, a frozen morn,
A world of bitter pills,
Long lost love and winter chills.
That winter night did pass, and found frozen to a glass,
His hands did clutch a memory, of a child and a life now passed,
No kindness shall be found, cardboard box upon the ground,
Just a distant crow shall shrill and far away upon a hill,
A beating heart shall banish forth, lost love and winter chills.
poem by Fergus Michael Condron
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Don't Tell THe World! (Sonnet)
This Sonnet is in the popular Petrarchan Form
I behold thy love as beautiful thing,
In my wrecked heart, a pleasure garden,
Thy revered love, a blooming Eden.
A daisy tuft seasoned by bright spring,
Surging in moments that defeats waiting,
I behold thy words as a jeweled crown,
On my worn pages of despicable frown.
And thy memory feeds my mind dying,
Daring couple disclose, but don’t you tell,
About memoirs many encased and kept,
Say not thy chronicle, sweet as daisy smell,
Buried, not unseen to thy eyes except
Reveal not, the guarded stash of our love,
Lest a rational world desires to know! ! !
IA NOTE: For those who find the format unfitting to a sonnet!
(Sonnet
only 14 lines long— and has a firmly fixed form. The sonnet works best for expressing strong emotion or intense feeling, firm purpose, or great seriousness. This form works best if you want to focus attention on a single thing—a particular idea, situation, emotion, problem, observation, etc. —the sonnet gets to its point quickly and efficiently, with beauty and charm of form or expression.
The Shakespearean (or English) sonnet and the Petrarchan (or Italian) sonnet are the two most prevalent versions of this form today.
A Shakespearean sonnet or English sonnet is written in one stanza composed of three rhymed quatrains (each making one point in a three-step argument) , followed by a rhyming couplet that summarizes the argument
A Petrarchan sonnet or Italian sonnet is composed of an octet followed by a sestet with a variable rhyme scheme. The octet presents the poem’s theme or problem, while the sestet offers a change or a resolution. In its traditional form, this sonnet never ends in a couplet.
Robert Frost was popular at Petrarchan form of sonnets.
sonnet’s formal requirements (14 lines of iambic pentameter with a specific rhyme scheme) , method (a strong focus on one subject) , and goals (persuasion, surprise, balance) ,
Ref: www.poetry.com/techniques/form of poetic expressions.
Thank You
poem by Seema Aarella
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That Avalanche Has Advanced
Depict me as you wish.
I am not the one who issued,
The blindfolds and the skis...
You speed down the slopes,
To deceive you with hopes.
I came to warn you,
Of an impending avalanche.
I was the one who came brave enough...
To insist you were heading towards darkness.
And not a party to drink with song and dance.
But since I am not a skier,
You laughed at me and took the chance.
And in the midst of your 'glee'...
That avalanche has advanced!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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July....
July is the month where the families get the barbeque grills fired up.
July is the month where the night sky is light up with fire works.
July is the month where many families go out of town to be with family.
July is the month where many kids are dreary because it’s a month away for school.
July is the month where America gets to celebrate its independence from England.
July is the month where many people are dying of the heat of the summer.
July is my favorite month because it’s the time that I get to be myself around my family.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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The Killing Frost
There is an enchantment in the Killing Frost
It's the most magical night of the year
When the abundant blooms of Summer
Are put to sleep by Frost's frozen tears.
The Killing Frost arrives here silently
Flying in ahead of Winter's incoming wrath
Covering all things that are of the earth
Putting to sleep all flora in her path.
As the late Autumn sun sinks below the horizon
On this Special Night of the year
Plants which were all alive this past morn will be no more
It's time to make way for Winter's Cheer.
Everything Frost kisses will be put to eternal repose
Adorned by Frost's magical breath during the night
All will be dripping in Diamonds in the Morn
With which to dazzle by soft Morning's light.
Winter will be arriving shortly now
And Frost will take her leave
To make way for fluttering snowflakes
Which will come to dance during the long Winter's Eve.
poem by Christine A Kysely (29 December 2010)
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November
November month of fog and mists.
The early mornings have a bite
the silver grass by Jack Frost kissed
in the dark hours of the night.
The sun reluctant slow to rise
His winter rays no longer warm
that frost persists is no surprise.
This is the calm before the storm.
Winter advances openly
no power can withstand its might
What has to be will come to be
A winter world of black and white.
Though advent justifies a feast
the winter cares not in the least.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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Summer Is Nearly Over
Our long, hot summer is sadly nearly over.
No more will we see the daisy or the clover.
The leaves have already begun to fall from the trees.
No longer will the summer flowers attract busy bees.
For dinner, we’ll be cooking hearty casseroles,
To warm through our poor, cold, shivering souls.
We’ll soon be experiencing many a misty morn,
When pretty little dew-drops crystallize the lawns.
In shop windows, mannequins wear browns and greys;
Reflecting the forthcoming grey and gloomy winter days.
We’ll be dead-heading the once pretty summer flowers.
And huddle under umbrellas against the wintry showers.
About leaves on the train lines, we’ll soon have to worry,
And the wrong kind of snow will slow down those in a hurry.
Students will soon return to University, college and school,
As the weather changes from being very hot to decidedly cool.
Out of storage, we’ll retrieve our winter duvets,
And, longer in our beds, we’ll now want to stay.
With the summer season over, seafront cafes will shut up shop,
And pleasure boat rides for tourists will soon begin to stop.
The nights will grow increasingly longer.
The winds will grow increasingly stronger.
Soon, there’ll be dull days and rain drops.
No more will we be wearing strappy tops.
In our woolly hats, coats and gloves, we’ll be all snug.
At night, we’ll sit, by the fireside, with soup in a mug.
No longer will we be craving strawberry ice cream.
Of next year’s summer holiday, we’ll sit and dream.
Soon, we’ll be faced with many a hard frost,
When some of our precious plants may be lost.
Very soon, we’ll have changed our style of dressing,
From summer to winter, which is so very depressing.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Season's Cornation Day (Italian Sonnet)
Beneath the pale sun's melancholy ray
a tearful empress lays her garland down,
relinquishing her fragrance of renown,
where blossoms left on each abandoned spray
are strewn like flags o'er Coronation Day.
An auburn rival will usurp her crown,
assume her royal throne and queenly gown,
then lead her where awakened vultures play.
The grand procession winds along the square
where nimbly darts a joyous cymbal's flame.
'Yet, Autumn, what is in the urn you bear?
Perchance the ashes of a maid's last prayer
whose grief is now your ornament of shame?
... Such hell you pay for slaying Summer's heir! '
[An Italian sonnet is composed of an octave, rhyming abbaabba, and a sestet, rhyming cdecde or cdcdcd, or in some variant pattern such as cdccdc, but with no closing couplet. A sonnet's meter is iambic pentameter.]
poem by Susan Crowe
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White Hat White Coat
To the late doug whalan.... from your daughter.....
White hat white coat and greying in hair
he would dance around the dance floor with plenty of flair
White hat white coat black pants to boot
the men would all say 'silly old coot'
Whitehat white coat and a big friendly smile
when he went to a dance he'd dress in style
White hat white coat and a beat in his feet
it's of to the dance and people to meet
White hat white coat and a scotch on the rocks he'd love to dance
and the men would all mock
White hat white coat asleep at the wheel
he's danced all night 'boy i know how he feels'
White hat white coat have been put to the test
it's time to go home for a well earned rest
White hat white coat clean shirt and socks too
he's all geard up and ready for round two
White hat white coat so tired and run down
close your eyes and dream of your nights on the town
White hat white coat you've seen better days
your torn around the edges and your starting to fray
White hat white coat the time's come for us to part
but always remember ' i love you with all my heart '
poem by Debbie Gregory
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Seasons
What is a season, sometimes children ask,
Then to explain to them is not a hard task;
its four groups of months, divided equally,
Winter I like, It's the month so special to me.
First we take Summer, it's sometimes so very hot,
But; when you get to go swimming, it cools you a lot;
Eating Salads, and lovely cold drinks, and sweet too,
But; when it's in the 40's, I just don't know what to do.
Next we have Autumn, a beautiful season to check out,
The colors on each tree change, the wind blows the leaves about;
We know it's almost time, to get our warm clothes ready,
and when it's very windy, it's hard to stay on your feet steady.
Then comes Winter, out comes our warm clothes, and gear,
Our coats, gloves, and rain boots, are always left near;
Then it comes, the rain, Hail, sleet and icy snow,
Where you feel the winters blast, on each finger and toe.
So there is the seasons, each different from the other,
What is your favorite season, or do you prefer, not to bother?
In Melbourne Victoria, It's like all comes together,
Four seasons in a day, oh what strange yet beautiful weather.
poem by Margaret Haig
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In Winter's Arms
Winter holds me with his arms of icy white,
and kissed my breath with frost upon the pane.
Subdued by touch of winter's frigid hand,
I pray for spring to find me once again.
O'wind, you whistle to the winter's tune.
Your melody is heard 'pon day and night,
but one day spring will come to rescue me,
and wisk away your song of winter's blight.
O'tree, you're frozen in the winter's dream.
Your leaves have left you 'neath a moon of white,
but when my prayers are answered 'pon spring's dawn,
you'll thaw beneath its sun with warm delight.
O'field, your harvest has been reaped and spent ~
and winter blankets you 'neath snowy mounds.
Yet one day soon in springtime's rising mist
you'll feel the greening of your earth rebound.
Winter holds me with his arms of icy white,
and kissed my breath with frost upon the pane ~
but deep within I somehow always know,
that spring will come and find me once again.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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The starry three sisters
The starry three sisters
are rising overhead
and the hot day
is dead.
The winter night chills
and spreads ripe,
over grass and plants.
There’s a playful
charm to the icy wind,
that stir some fallen leaves.
Your smile
has its own warmth
and the taste of your lips,
are sweet and soft.
Your eyes has a glimmer
that sparks to the soul
and where love burns,
no winter can chill.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Summer into Winter
June stars
January moon
The light dies too quickly
And the dark arrives too soon
April blossom
And august bliss
The frost in the winter
Seals your lips with a kiss
February snow
October trees
When summer dies
So do the leaves
November rain
March flowers
When winter comes
So do dark hours
July sun
September nights
When summer goes to bed
The birds all take flight
December is left
Till the very last
As we look back
At the months just past
poem by Nicola Burkett
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Winter Is Now Here
Now that chilly breezes are here
We know taht winter is surely near
When nice and warm and sunny scenes
And evergreen trees can be rarely seen
Because winter season is here atlast
And talk of summer is the thought of past
Now on hills, valleys and farms
Winter spread its beauty and charm
With wintery smiles and snowy sights
Along with cold and frosty nights
As season is quietly changing its face
So winter can quickly take summer's place
And mocking birds with nightingales
Are going back to their narrow vales
And are singing cheerful welcoming songs
For winter season is here atlast
Now lilies taht will no more bloom
Seem very sad and in gloom
And are looking at the misty sky
And saying dear summer goodbye
As the weather is quietly changing its face
So winter can quickly take summer's place.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Wintertime Love
Wintertime winds blow cold the season
Fallen in love, Im hopin to be
Wind is so cold, is that the reason?
Keeping you warm, your hands touching me
Come with me dance, my dear
Winters so cold this year
You are so warm
My wintertime love to be
Winter time winds blue and freezin
Comin from northern storms in the sea
Love has been lost, is that the reason?
Trying desperately to be free
Come with me dance, my dear
Winters so cold this year
And you are so warm
My wintertime love to be
La, la, la, la
Come with me dance, my dear
Winters so cold this year
You are so warm
My wintertime love to be
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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June And July
June and July are right in the middle
Of a time that is a period to learn.
The months of our summer in this land
I call England,
Are like these months.
The other months work for these ones,
And those ones that are not these two months
Still believe in the sun and moon and planets.
They trust the stars, walk in the mind
And state our successes, in all our graveness.
The grave has no month, but lives in years
To manage the time in heaven.
For some June is like July,
But I think what they look is what they are.
poem by Naveed Akram
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War at Home
Ever since they took him away,
to fight that God forsaken war.
I daydream in our fields all day.
They took the man that I adore.
Gazing across the windswept grass
and waiting for the time to pass.
The memory of times before,
they took the man that I adore.
I know he’ll walk across that field
with battle wounds yet still unhealed.
My broken heart can take no more,
they took the man that I adore.
Ever since they took him away,
they took the man that I adore.
Author Notes:
Kyrielle Sonnet
A Kyrielle Sonnet consists of 14 lines (three rhyming quatrain stanzas and a non-rhyming couplet) . Just like the traditional Kyrielle poem, the Kyrielle Sonnet also has a repeating line or phrase as a refrain (usually appearing as the last line of each stanza) . Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet consists of only eight syllables. French poetry forms have a tendency to link back to the beginning of the poem, so common practice is to use the first and last line of the first quatrain as the ending couplet. This would also re-enforce the refrain within the poem. Therefore, a good rhyming scheme
for a Kyrielle Sonnet would be: AabB, ccbB, ddbB, AB -or- AbaB, cbcB, dbdB, AB.
poem by Amera Andersen
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Green Couplets 02 Touchy Composition
Between two cotyledons— plant grows with a bud!
With two lines— couplets come into flower with an idea.
Sometimes, two lines may be more powerful than two hundred lines.
Small verses like couplets are really beautiful.
They speak and touch with peace— as Poems for Life.
Couplet— I
Watering rain on the leaves
Orchid plant mutely sleeps
Couplet— II
Under the pillow raining night
Memory coins may or might!
Couplet— III
All green buds grows yellow
Plant or animal must follow!
Couplet— IV
Shooting stars proclaimed that
No one ever will be mate…
Couplet— V
How the moon came into being
The way fishes sleep and sing
Ashraful Musaddeq
poem by Ashraful Musaddeq
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