Thanks to parents who talked and read to me from the day I was born, (and very likely even before) I don't think I have lived a single day without enjoying some beautiful word or phrase. At a young age my discovery of poetry satisfied my deep craving for beautiful words. I can't really describe the essence of poetry though, but I know of a quote that does. "Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words." Robert Frost
Anyways, to get back on track, I will be sharing a few of my favorite poems with you today.
This The season
A wispy smoke, a golden haze,
A burnished sun come Autumn days;
A burst of flame on distant hills,
As season's winds bring dusty chills.
Bright pumpkins stacked by shocks of corn
In dewy pose at early morn,
And night birds flee in fluttered flight
To seek their shelter ere the night.
A village bell tolls end of day;
A farmer wends his weary way
Toward hearth and home and sweet repose,
As western skies strike daily close.
Golden Autumn, no sweeter time
Than poignant days of fairest clime;
September's gift, October's glow-
Comes this, the season I love so.
Henry w. Gurley
The Signature of Spring
As I stand by my window and breathe the fresh air,
I notice Spring's signature penned everywhere:
The snow's disappearing beneath greening grass,
While buds and green sprouts are emerging at last.
New plumage embellishes birds on the wing,
And a fresh note of joy sparks each song that they sing.
An early Spring shower pours droplets of white,
As a wintering cloud slowly makes its last flight.
In wakening woods I can hear peepers sing;
Redundant their song, yet as new as each Spring.
As I stand by my window and breathe God's fresh air,
I rejoice in Spring's signature everywhere.
Loise Pinkerton Fritz
The Road not Taken
Two roads diverged by yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that passing there
And worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no steps had trodden black.
Oh I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
Took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
And that will be it for now. I decided 3 was a good number of poems because the number seems very random and odd. So very satisfying!