Poetry - The Song of Seasons

Poetry is a harmony of songs, as well as the songs that one plays throughout the seasons. With the sorrows (rain), the anger (summer/winter), or the dullness (fall) - it speaks to us in many ways.

Poetry is a facade of colors -

A tearstain of songs within the spring.

It is summer's dearest friend,

Of murmurs between

another's jubilance 

which offer to fend

From the dreary nights of a windy fall

When time as dark as the gnawing blight

Plow its way to the tufts of winter

That strung vibrations of malice to hymn,

A fierce rhythm between 

each daunting chime.

Poetry - oh yes! - indeed,

The tunes of seasons

That supersede the saturation of summer's heat -

For it combines the 

Waves aloft the radiant sun,

To simmer with anger,

Or to taunt with fun;

For it combines the

Soggy dearth of warmth,

That soak the Esplanade

With the qualms of one's sorrow -

Or perhaps the solace 

it offers for the morrow;

For it combines the

Swirl of a beckoning tantrum,

With the whistles of a wind

Which blow with a bewilderment

Till mind turns paper thin;

For it combines the

Sastruga of a blanched snow

That tether to one's impertinence 

Or pound with a heart so still,

Glaciers are to form on round one's will;

For poetry is a facade of colors -

That paint the picture of a motion,

influenced by the reckoning

of such dainty notion.

Author's Note

An assignment for metapoetry (or at least i hope!)