|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
if you've
Seasons
Change and Autumn ...... By Lillian Smith
Winter
.......By
Ryan Thompson
Mid-Season
Sonnet ....by Rich Roach
Spring
has Sprung..by Shelby Forrest
Touches
of Heaven and Leaves ............by Virginia
Rodriguez
Modern
Mischief...by Gerry Rothery
July
in September.....By Chris Sorrenti
Spring
of 76, Autumn of Your Life and Autumn
Has Met Autumn....
by L.B. Strawn
Seasons
Blend and It's almost Springtime ... by Hope
Smith
Bears
of a Different Color .... by Anna Mae Wittig
Beginnings
.... by Ken Wittig
Seasons
of the Soul ..... by Shelby Forrest
Florida
has three Seasons (Hot, Hurricane & Hope) .. by Anna Mae Wittig
Summer,, Winter's Scene,
Winters
Days Come Calling, Winter's Sky ...by L.B. Strawn
Young lovers walk
together hand in hand,
And in the park
there's music from a band.
High in the steeple
church bells gaily ring.
We know we've
passed through Winter into Spring
--
Forest
of Poetry Trees
http://home.earthlink.net/~sforrest/
Melodious sounds
in treetops high above,
reflects the
nightingale's song of intimate love
Miracles of our
Creator show love so much
displaying examples
of heaven's glorious touch.
Be quiet, be still
and look up and down,
all is not lost
in this bleary, sad town.
God's glory is
revealed and seen all the while
shining out to
a cold world in a child's brilliant smile.
Sun streaks down
to warm from above
Let us know well
God's infinite love
He shows it so
plain the lesson so dear
First dying to
self, then new birth draws near.
Frost like diamonds
settles on boughs
extending out
to their Creator for they all know
He who formed
them will again bring them to life
while most humans
all live in discord and strife.
It takes a brief
moment for all to see
the beauty God
wrought in our neighboring trees
with uplifted
hearts with all of our might
to bring everlasting
joy, peace and delight.
The miracles
shown forth in all God's grandeur
It's a constant
reminder to all who remain pure
He fills us with
His glory down in our hearts
by viewing His
colors of love which will never depart.
I'm glad you're
just wind from the north-east,
As storms go,
you're one of the least.
So I'll choose
you over a hurricane,
or a tropical
storm with a dying name.
Or a tornado with
a whirling wind,
Wild, destructive,
and undisciplined!
"Thank God for
small favors", I've been known to say,
So for "moderate
winds", I'll thank Him today!
Autumn’s
Trojan horse
waiting
patiently
to break
the balm
of Indian
Summer
cool nights
a foreshadowing
of what’s
always laid ahead
let us not
forget
children
are back in school
department
stores cluttered
with Winter’s
wear
and though
barbecues still sizzle
sparrows
sing happily
to one
another
other red
breasted friends
have quietly
slipped away
already
begun
their southern
vacation
Cause a lazy feeling
inside,
Want to curl
up somewhere and hide,
Not want to walk,
but only ride;
But---will that
feeling forever abide?
No, not long,
certainly not forever;
With the passing
of spring it will sever
And flow away
like a gentle river,
For it's a thing
we call “spring fever”.
The blood thins
out, the heart beats slow
Leaving our energy
somewhat low,
But, e'er the
summer breezes blow,
Our bodies, once
more, will begin to glow.
Yes, glow they
will, and begin the quiver
And pulsate like
a rolling river
With strength
received from the blessed giver,
And we'll be
rid of "Ole Spring Fever".
The leaves which frolicked so gaily
In the spring and summer's breeze,
Will be falling, almost daily,
Before the winter's killing freeze.
![]()

![]()
Though saddened
by this sobering thought,
I'll enjoy this
time, as life gently slows,
And, though each
day is danger fraught,
The water of
life still eagerly flows.
We love to see them flutter
In the Indian summer breeze.
They brighten up the lonely days
And bring delight, as if to please.
We know that summer's
trials
Have caused them
anguish e're they met,
But we trust
the hand of God,
In their future
has been set.
That the beauty of their season
Will last a lifetime through.
That each will know companionship
That is tender, kind and true.
We pray that Autumn
colors
Will go on and
never fade,
That they will
last forever
In heaven's pastoral
glade.
http://hometown.aol.com/petezman1/lbpoems/lbpoetry.htm
My home page with music-please sign my guest book
http://hometown.aol.com/poetman1925/myhomepage/index.htm
My
springtime is here
My golden sun
kisses
For you I’ll
send
Love from my
heart
Our seasons to
blend
A freshing love
blooms
Open and appear
Spring to your
fall
To touch and
be near
Heart love blossoms
Two hearts behold
My springtime
glow
Blends your autumn
gold
..................................
.![]()
![]()

![]()
![]()
...............................
Once a bare bark
With thi rsty
desi re
Soaks in showers
Adorns green
attire
Winter’s dormancy
A springtime
nears
Trees in readiness
Each leaf appears
Unfolding are
buds
From winters
sleep
Scents filling
the air
Petals start
to peep
Waving in its
glow
A graceful butterfly
Blooms bright
faces
Holding heads
high
Humming , buzzing
In glowing sunshine
A garden is blessed
Its almost springtime
They've made a
batch of cider,
Stocked the freezer
to the brim,
Donned their
warmest sweaters,
To wait for winter
to set in.
They're ready
now to hibernate,
From October
until May,
And 'cept for
work & emergencies,
That is where
they'll stay.
While we-folks
down in Florida,
Emerge from our
A/C,
Where temps extreme
and humidity,
Took their toll,
you see.
May to October
kept us in,
OUR hibernations's
over,
It's our turn
now to go outside,
To
smell the flowers and clover.
Up pop "garage
sales, fleamarkets",
And concerts
in the park,
Fishing, golf
and Theme Parks,
Walk the beach
till it gets dark.
We'll wake you
in the Spring, friends,
When your snow
has gone in May,
But after that,
you'll not see us,
In the A/C, we'll
stay !
Seasons Change
Huge black clouds
reared across the sky with ominous outrage.
Swift as a arrow,
darkness fell like a curtain on a stage.
Bushes and trees
had great shakes and quivers.
Rain changed
to abundant frozen, ice slivers.
The roaring wind
had a voice like an old lion that had been
challenged for leadership and been defeated.
Winter is approaching
quickly, Summer fun and Fall
delights have come and now retreated.
These beginnings
are thought by all to be,
Different than
ever before,
But the world
keeps spinning, and history,
Repeats itself
forever more.
When moods of
deep depression form,
Tis Winter in
my soul.
Dark thoughts
and dreams up from the depths
Bring forth a
chilling cold.
Then laughter,
as the children play
Drifts softly
to my ear
And I have feeling
in my soul
That breath of
Spring is near.
The season of
Autumn is for the soul-
Tranquility and
peace.
A time for giving
love and care,
And hostile thoughts
will cease.
Its season of
Summer brings to the soul
A mood lighthearted
and free
Through space,
unencumbered, to heavens soar,
Then return across
mountains and sea.
--
Forest
of Poetry Trees
http://home.earthlink.net/~sforrest/
But now there's
new meaning to the changes in weather,
And this season
sees us... gathering together,
Batteries, candles,
flashlights and such,
Water and canned
food, we can't have too much.
For our season's
not Spring, Summer, Winter or Fall,
Our "Hurricane"
season supercedes them all.
Our trees don't
change color, the whole state is green,
And "fall" means
the fallen trees that we've seen.
And delicate fall
breezes, we remember so well,
Are now hurricane
winds that can put us through hell.
And our temperature
stays above ninety-five,
Never thought
that I'd pray for winter to arrive!
But we do, and
it comes, and the winds now don't blow,
And God makes
up for trouble, for we don't shovel snow.
And we bask in
the sunlight, humidity goes,
The temps are
Spring-pleasant, and everyone knows.
That this is the
reason, we weather each storm,
No snowplows,
no boots, Don't need coats to keep warm!
Hurricanes
are forgotten, Springlike breezes come along.
But somehow Santa
on a surf board... makes Christmas all wrong !
So tiny and fragile,
such a wee little thing,
And, oh how she
loves to cling to her mummy
You can almost
her little voice sing
As she nurses
and fills her tummy.
How can you describe
a baby's smile
With her tummy
filled, and content?
It makes every
problem well worthwhile.
>From heaven
those smiles were sent.
At nine months
and fifteen pounds
She's the smallest
grandchild, to date,
But now she's
making the cutest sounds
That I wish her
"growing up" could wait.
With every grandchild,
that thought will come,
But, think of
the joys we would erase.
As they grow
to maturity and watch them bloom,
There will be
others to take their place.
So, I'm looking
forward, Summer, dear,
To the lovely
girl, into which you will grow,
And hope we can
always be very near,
For I love you
very much, you know.
I would dearly love to bring
The picture back as clear as then.
My heart would jump for joy and sing
Remembering how and where and when.
I can remember
a lovely spring
With trees in
leaf and flowers in bloom.
What happiness
these memories bring,
And yet, there
is a touch of gloom.
This scene, too, is somewhat dull;
That same mist dims my memory's screen.
Oh, that the image were sharp and full,
To see the meadow's grassy green.
Summer and autumn
bring memories, too,
And, though that
shadow is there, still,
The sky retains
it's azure blue,
And brings my
heart a silent thrill.
The agent which dulls seem to be
Age, which has stealthily crept
Upon my ancient reverie,
While my soul, in slumber, slept.
Though such memories
are very good
May I not such
scenes enjoy,
In this, today's
presenthood,
As aging man,
not youthful boy?
Yea, my eyes are with me yet;
With all the loveliness around,
Failing yesterdays bring no regret.
The beauty of today, I've found.
That beautiful,
full, yellow moon,
A gigantic pearl
in the blue.
It's just impossible
to describe it
To the satisfaction
of me and you.
Each of us has
our own thoughts
Of what we think
them to be;
And, of the effect
they have on our lives,
Through our mind's
eye we can see.
Let us pause at
this point for a moment
And consider
that full, yellow moon;
For some, it's
a time of sadness---
For others it
brings love's sweet tune.
But, if by chance,
you think witchcraft,
Strange forms
come into your mind.
Eerie, sinister,
yea, even evil;
No peace in your
thoughts will you find.
Or, the stars;
what sign are we under?
Could these strange
forces cast a spell?
We know that
all were fashioned by God;
Only he can,
the answer, tell.
So, how can a
poet describe them
To our satisfaction,
though he should try.;
That full, yellow
moon, the twinkling stars,
In the wind chilled,
wintery sky.