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 clearTakes in all beauty with an easy span:He has his Summer, when luxuriouslySpring’s honied cud of youthful thought he lovesTo ruminate, and by such dreaming highIs nearest unto heaven: quiet covesHis soul has in its Autumn, when his wingsHe furleth close; contented so to lookOn mists in idleness—to let fair thingsPass 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.
https://rustymidnightramblins.wordpress.com/2015/08/08/august/
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.
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Beautiful images, David.
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Perfect picture of nature in August.
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Beautiful images though Autumn always makes me a little sad.
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Me too 😔
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This is a gorgeous and vivid poem. From language to images, it is a perfect seasonal tale.
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I’m hearing violins….
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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
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Last verse:
See how quickly
First verse went to last
That’s how it seems
The seasons fly past
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Oh, they do indeed! Nice trip through the seasons with you.
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All the seasons do seem to fly by. Beautiful poem, Connie.
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Utter delight!
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They do fly! I love the last verse esp.
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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
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Ah shoes! They were my biggest attire vice. What a cool poem Candy.
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Me too! Thanks
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I’ll bet you could sell this to a shoe store.
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Love this tale of the season by your shoe collection!
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[…] 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.” […]
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Still pretty rough but I can work on it later.
https://debispoems.wordpress.com/2015/08/10/seasons/
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I never would’ve made those connections. Thanks for the insights.
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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.
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Mmmmmm .. my mouth is watering.
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☺️
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Absolutely!! I’m in love with oregano!! There’s nothing like it! Great poem, Sara!
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I love this; I think Dr. Seuss would, too.
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I hope he would, I do, I do.
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The rhyming and choice of words give this a happy, lively feel.Nice
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Thanks, Debi!
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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.
SEASONS CHANGE
(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.
SEASON OF CHANGE
(a shadorma)
Hot and cold,
Autumn has them both.
Green then gold,
each day holds
something different than the
day that came before.
CHANGE IN DUE SEASON
(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.
SEASON TO CHANGE
(a shadorma)
The wait is
over, hope springs forth
from frozen,
fallow earth.
The promise of new life grows
with the renewed warmth.
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I love them each, as individual Shadorma. They can stand alone or, read together paint a picture of the seasons. I also like the subtle changes in the titles.
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Thanks, Candy, for the feedback. Maybe I will leave it as is…four shadormas, but in one post. And thank you, too, for your comment on the changes in each title. 🙂
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Read as Four Seasons. Agree with Candy. They span the year.
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I really like this as a sequel of the seasons rather than individual shadormas. It has a cyclic feel told together. Very nice,Paula
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Thanks, Debi – would you leave the titles for each?
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I don’t think I would leave them but you might want to get a consensus. I am not particularly confident of my answer.: )
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They work very well together, Paula. I love that last verse.
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Thanks, Sara.
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For me, these work well together and I don’t mind each having a title. What impresses me most is that the spring piece is the finale.
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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.
https://whenwordsescape.wordpress.com/2011/03/05/the-seasons-of-love/
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I love the sheer humanity of these pieces. Wonderful.
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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
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“My winter is waiting with door open wide
I know that I must one day enter in”…… yes, and the last line saves the poem from being hopeless. Very nice, Earl
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For me, this feels akin to Shakespeare.
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THE END OF SEASONS
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.
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What Debi said!
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For me, this piece has a shrouding effect. Very effective.
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I like those last two lines… and the two different homes that it makes me think of.
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[…] And also offered as a season poem for Phoenix Rising A SEASON FOR EVERY PURPOSE UNDER HEAVEN […]
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Here’s one from me…I enjoyed the poem and commentary, Walt…thank you!
https://wordrustling.wordpress.com/2015/08/10/late-summer/
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That is so lovely; it glistens.
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Thank you, so much, William!
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CAYENNE PEPPER
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!
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It’s getting hot in here….
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[…] Shared at Phoenix Rising […]
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WHEN MY GREEN THUMB GETS BLUE,
I often look up garden books,
and for a host of reasons:
they help me change my garden’s looks
for seasoning the seasons.
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Me, too, William. I try to plant lots of perennials but fill in with a few annuals.
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GO TO THE SEA SONS
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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Wow, what a set-up!
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