Am meisten gelesen ▸
Rainy season
what wing broke a pinion in the garden
I am hunting a word to help us
through the long waters
on each side the east
Gedichte zum Thema: season
Gedichte zum Thema „season“ auf Poets.by.
calendar
it pains me to know
that there was more that melted away
than just the snow
and as the flowers bloom next spring
and the birds begin to chirp and sing
i carry the guilt of winter on my back
and every-time i stop to think of the season to come
i nearly have a heart attack
because i thought winter was the most stupid season
i'd sit there and hope for spring to come without a reason
but as the seasons go by
i realise that there is a reason i
had to be saddened by winter
i know now
that if i hadn't been broken by winter drifting away
than i will be
* * *
the shadows around the corner before
the cars there's the back windows too slow
moment
away from
the setting sun
project tall bug-
gye flickering past
trees
changed here
through the seasons
over the road
branched out
Anarchy Is a State of Mind
You know how madness creeps into
the night, slips around yesterday's
door to memory, leaves you terrified
of consequences & what was left behind
by ageless reason, circumstance
leads to accidental lapses
& you scream at changes in the sea.
You wave, to the wind for a sunset of gold
& amethyst, sing rainbows
of the moon in time.
While the seasons turn upon themselves
you grow stiffly old.
In a pre-fabricated dance
you're humming out of tune.
Four Poems 3
hiking
out of sight
of pines & view of pines
& long snowfooting woods
ass down to beaver
pond & gathered puzzle
grass
round
slender ash some
beaver cat axed /
hiked out.
my heels
at my heels,ground
spruce,
patches of quartz
in the fields raising up
April Primary
Winter's filibuster fades to mumbles.
The delegates are nominating Spring,
signifying their favor by piercing
soil with green digits. Birds work
the precincts, natural politicians:
quick with impromptu speeches,
always groomed, crisply garbed,
well coifed. I support Spring. I think
it has a lot of good ideas.
Thirty-Three
Again we missed
bloom on the cherry.
What season
for us now
is not swift?
In Green Ways
Among the leaves I make a rhyme,
To the winter in its pall,
For the poor, forgotten time
Has not had a song at all.
Winter ! winter ! do not fear.
You shall have an icy crown
At the falling of the year.
When the leaves have tumbled down.
I am singing to you here,
Though the bud is on the tree,
At the falling of the year
You will sing a song to me.
Frames
Brown window-sill, you hold my all of skies,
And all I know of springing year and fall,
And everything of earth that greets my eyes —
Brown window-sill, how can you hold it all?
Grey walls, my days are bound within your hold.
Cast there and lost like pebbles in a sea;
And all my thought is squared to fit your mould —
Grey wall, how mighty is your masonry!