NOVEMBER Poems

We have had some spectacular November weather up here in Massachusetts. Temperatures have reached into the seventies this week! That certainly isn't typical for this time of year. So happy that I have been able to take my granddaughters outside to enjoy the warm days and autumn foliage that still clings to some of the trees.

So often the poetry we hear/read about November focuses on Thanksgiving/giving thanks. I thought I'd post some November poems that include other aspects/thoughts about the month.

Here is a poem titled NOVEMBER RAIN by Maud E. Uschold. (NOTE: This poem is in the public domain.)

NOVEMBER RAIN

This autumn rainfall

Is no shower

That freshens grass

And brings the flower.

This rain is long

And cold and gray,

Yet sleeping roots

Are feed this way.

Trees and bushes,

Nearly bare

Of leaves, now chains

Of raindrops wear

Along each twig.

Some clear beads fall.

A tree could never

Hold them all.

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Here is an excerpt from a children's poem written by Dixie Willson about autumn and the month of November:

THE MIST AN ALL

I like the fall,
The mist and all.
I like the night owl's
Lonely call—
And wailing sound

Of wind around.

I like the gray
November day,
And bare, dead boughs
That coldly sway
Against my pane.

Click here to read the rest of the poem.

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Here is the first stanza of a poem about November written by Clyde Watson:

November comes
And November goes,
With the last red berries
And the first white snows.

Click here to read the rest of the poem. 

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Here is a cinquain written by Adelaide Crapsey, the woman who invented the poetic form:

NOVEMBER NIGHT

Listen. . .

With faint dry sound, 

Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees
And fall.

You can read about Crapsey here.

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Here is an excerpt from Rita Dove's poem NOVEMBER FOR BEGINNERS:

Snow would be the easy

way out—that softening

sky like a sigh of relief

at finally being allowed

to yield. No dice.

We stack twigs for burning

in glistening patches

but the rain won’t give.

Click here to read the rest of Dove's poem.

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And here is an excerpt from Helen Hunt Jackson's poem NOVEMBER:

This is the treacherous month when autumn days

With summer’s voice come bearing summer’s gifts.

Beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster lifts

Her head and blooms again. The soft, warm haze

Makes moist once more the sere and dusty ways,

And, creeping through where dead leaves lie in drifts,

The violet returns...

Click here to read the rest of the poem.

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Here are the first two stanzas of Lucy Maud Montgomery's poem NOVEMBER  EVENING:

Come, for the dusk is our own; let us fare forth together,
With a quiet delight in our hearts for the ripe, still, autumn weather,
Through the rustling valley and wood and over the crisping meadow,
Under a high-sprung sky, winnowed of mist and shadow.

Sharp is the frosty air, and through the far hill-gaps showing
Lucent sunset lakes of crocus and green are glowing;
Tis the hour to walk at will in a wayward, unfettered roaming,

 Caring for naught save the charm, elusive and swift, of the gloaming. 

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NOTE: I have had trouble formatting the poems in my post this morning. I'll try to fix if I can when I have some free time. Friday is always a really busy day for me.

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The POETRY FRIDAY ROUNDUP is at WRITE. SKETCH. REPEAT. this week.