Anthony V. S. Smith

Life's Ritual - The Seasons - Poem by Anthony V. S. Smith

Musal Response

Spring - Arche, [origin]

Revolves whom sprung awoke as climate did,
Can sleep, be kept as warmth that barren land
Had underneath where bud laid dormant hid
Leaves Arche a lantern balm bequeath to hand,
That led the lowly sun towards lost trails,
The hopeful spring may rush in hush of tread,
And weeds of variations shrouds and hails,
Aloud! The Spring has come, to make its bed!
Her rain full whispers clasp upon us thence,
Origin to the next bespoken hour,
Now slowly wetting love's fling for commence,
Does light surround composing, buds to flower!
A movement if at all, would lead their spray,
Where pastures to the next have turned bouquet...

Summer - Aoide [song]

...The songs would tear aspidal clouds apart,
for height disparaged she who drifts where soft,
lamentable, yet calm command; love's art,
To dwell upon them wholly, hoists aloft,
With that when aspirations speak grandeur,
Sunbeams split intertidal waves explored
Aoide, with song, the summer's raconteur,
To weigh up that between time much restored.
Could change that any species be, if tried,
For summer calls the gods from their refrain,
To witness what it is when songs have cried,
When dew shall have amend its soul and twain
That stretched beyond imagination's roam,
To bloom until 'tis autumn's search for loam!

Autumn - Thelxinoē , [mind charm]

The calm dispensing mood of linger long,
Shows ascertain the cool romancing mind,
Of colour, since the warmth around its throng,
Can autumn's pull uncover that sun blind,
When all around there is a summer's glimpse,
Of piercing through the shadows like the trust,
The fighter who with autumn can, but limps!
Subjecting if their lease old age would rust,
Infusion from its bulk of earthenware's,
The contributing factors rotting feeds
Have doubled since the heap of all repairs,
Rekindles as that shape, one's future needs.
And spring became the autum of fair trade,
For having asked for nothing, nothing stayed!

Winter - Meletē , [meditation]

While goodness from the wilting flows are fed,
Should pity still absorb within, to whom,
Survives where cold is orbed, and outer led,
Become the ties to each their chosen womb.
Immune, for winter shields, our futures hold,
Belonging to the life to come unknown,
Until a time, unearthed, when timeless fold,
Beware those fears of death before it's shown.
How winter seems to have prepared a place,
For death to syncronise it's soul with faith,
To ask if spring delights to have us face,
Again, the sole replenishment made safe!
In answer to the way those year's gone by,
Have mattered not to whom should we rely!

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, June 7, 2011

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