The Human Seasons


Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
     There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
     Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
     Spring’s honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
     Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
     He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things
     Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
     Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

This is one of my favorite Keats poems. It compares the life of a person with the seasons of the year. It was the basis for my second stage play, “CHANGING WITH THE SEASONS”. The tagline was, “If we don’t change we don’t grow, always growing with the seasons.”

We all change!

Seasons change!

The Summer months are quickly waning and it seems they wait for no one. Soon we will dip into the Autumn season which will lead into… You know the routine. So this week we will write about seasons. There are the four seasons of the year (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter). There’s Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons. Baseball Season, Football season. Any sports season. Holiday season. There are also seasonings that add spice to our foods and sometimes things that happen to spice our lives.

LIFE IS TO BE SAVORED! So whatever flavor you give to your poems, we will all welcome a taste of your worded brilliance.



  1. https://rustymidnightramblins.wordpress.com/2015/08/08/august/


    By David De Jong

    While early leaves, traverse to descend,
    Black birds gather on cumulative wing.
    Warm breezes tarry in new found song,
    Coaxing trees come join the ardent throng.

    Whispering, hushing, a harvest moon,
    Lone monarchs search the fading bloom.
    Cicadas answer, their ancient roll,
    Amplified in one grand crescendo.

    Seed heads bursting, on the switch and brome.
    Fuel for the finch, as she journeys home.
    Early sunsets, narrow swept dew,
    Enticing mystery to its view.

    The velvet has left the stately crown,
    As the whitetail’s hair, loses its brown.
    Crickets sing, where the fireflies glowed,
    While ants scurry, getting harvest stowed.

    Warm breezes carry a new found song,
    As rhythms of summer, bid so long.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Colorado Seasons

    Some winters are snowy
    Some dry as a bone
    The nights are the coldest
    We stay in our homes

    The springs they will fool you
    Nice one day and then snow
    Makes it hard for the planning
    When you’re ready to go.

    What’s that sound on the roof?
    Could it be rain?
    Will the fires be bad?
    Enjoy blue skies while we can.

    The aspens glow golden
    The oak blushes red
    The geese all fly south
    Now winter’s ahead

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Changing with the Seasons

    Who says you only need one pair
    Who say two are quite enough
    My closet floor will tell the tale
    Of changing seasons, foot by foot

    Nothing says Fall like a pair of
    Oxblood loafers complete with
    shiny pennies, or moccasins with
    fancy beadwork, and sturdy oxfords

    In winter you must have some boots
    Flat, with heels, brown, black, and suede
    And don’t forget the fur lined slippers
    For nights curled up with a good book

    The ballet flats come out in Spring
    In color bouquets to match my garden
    My walking shoes get dusted off
    And heavy socks are “socked” away

    Ah, summer, when it finally arrives
    Is when I put on flip-flops and sandals
    Let my toes breath and my arches relax
    Or best of all, no shoes at all

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Love this tale of the season by your shoe collection!


  5. […] https://phoenixrisingpg.wordpress.com/A SEASON FOR EVERY PUROSE UNDER HEAVEN “LIFE IS TO BE SAVORED! So whatever flavor you give to your poems, we will all welcome a taste of your worded brilliance.” […]


  6. A Pinch of Seasoning

    When speaking of herbs
    ‘specially home-grown,
    the one that deserves
    a field all its own

    is zesty oregano, ooh Mama!
    cut in bunches and hung to dry.
    Crumble it on pasta
    or a nice pizza pie.

    Chicken with lemon,
    potatoes, or rice,
    oregano is heavenly,
    and a harmless vice.

    Fill up a jar, with crushed leaves
    Use it year-round, whenever you please.

    Liked by 4 people

  7. The rhyming and choice of words give this a happy, lively feel.Nice


  8. I haven’t posted these to my blog yet, and haven’t decided if I should post them as individual shadormas (as titled) or combine them into one poem.

    (a shadorma)

    The heat of
    summer is waning.
    I have known
    this season
    would come to an end. Yet, I’m
    sad to see it go.

    (a shadorma)

    Hot and cold,
    Autumn has them both.
    Green then gold,
    each day holds
    something different than the
    day that came before.

    (a shadorma)

    There’s an un-
    deniable chill
    in the air,
    a shift in
    life as I know it. Time to
    lie dormant and wait.

    (a shadorma)

    The wait is
    over, hope springs forth
    from frozen,
    fallow earth.
    The promise of new life grows
    with the renewed warmth.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. I’d previously written “the seasons of love” (early 2011…very early in my days of writing poetry). I’ll share a link here, if anyone’s interested…it was my first attempts at haiku.

    Liked by 2 people

  10. Winter Resistance

    My spring I spent playing and growing up
    Being a child was such a joy back then
    No cares, no worries, no looking back
    So quickly my spring flew by
    No regrets or reasons to cry

    Then summer flew in like a raging lion
    A serious world crushed my childhood dreams
    Work and family and a life self-supported
    Became my daily endeavor
    Seemed like it lasted forever

    My fall was a welcomed and joyful time
    Children bore children for me to love
    Life slowed a little but not quite enough
    Suddenly life had a reason
    But what of the final season

    My winter is waiting with door open wide
    I know that I must one day enter in
    The body is there but the mind is resisting
    There must be an end to life’s fling
    Still I want to go back to my spring

    The seasons passed by ever so quickly
    One round is all we mere humans get
    If only my life to go on forever
    But on Earth forever can’t be
    I’m glad Heaven is waiting for me

    © 2015 Earl Parsons

    Liked by 2 people


    As Autumn starts to fall
    a chill returns to stay.
    The wind comes out to play,
    you hear her howl to call
    to creatures great and small,
    farewell to Summer’s days.

    A pall surrounds the night,
    the shroud of darkness, black
    as shadows that attack
    and cover all in sight.
    Quite soon the bitter bite
    of Winter will come back.

    The end of seasons come.
    It draws us close to home.

    Liked by 2 people

  12. I like those last two lines… and the two different homes that it makes me think of.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. […] And also offered as a season poem for Phoenix Rising A SEASON FOR EVERY PURPOSE UNDER HEAVEN […]


  14. Here’s one from me…I enjoyed the poem and commentary, Walt…thank you!


    Liked by 1 person


    If you can’t stand the heat
    stay out of the pepper!
    Red devil that you are,
    when I eat you I get
    these scars down my throat!
    Each reaction, an adventure,
    it peels enamel off my denture.
    And don’t breathe it if you please,
    it will make you more than sneeze!
    And here’s one fact that is important,
    cayenne pepper’s not for snortin’!
    I can feel your fire churning.
    Holy God, my eyes are burning!


  16. William Preston


    I often look up garden books,
    and for a host of reasons:
    they help me change my garden’s looks
    for seasoning the seasons.

    Liked by 2 people


    My father had heard the call,
    the sounds of gulls and waves
    slapping against the iron hull.
    To the sea to see the world
    (never mind a girl in every port).
    As my mother awaited he debated,
    what branch would serve his service.
    The Navy was the way
    (before the Y.M.C.A.) and it was
    Anchors Aweigh for the sailor.
    Dad always hoped we would join
    and stand aboard a “tin can”.
    He didn’t demand, but hoped
    and coped with our being civilian
    citizens. My oldest brother missed
    the boat and to note, I was waylaid
    by a muscular malady from my youth.
    The next son was just too young.
    But the kid brother would come along
    and hold a strong affinity for the sea.
    A submariner, for sure a service that took
    a guy who was shy of being a kook, you know!
    Dad served above; my brother below
    and it goes to show what Dad always knew.
    Old Salts must go to the sea, sons!


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