Complex Beauty

The beauty of nature varies from time to time.
Our world is a complexion.
It isn’t just a vision;
You gotta’ see with heart,
To realize its art.

The seasons of the years
Moves like the gears.
They improve nature’s beauty
And performs a great duty.
This beauty we do hear,
To think nature is dear.

They keep the nature’s balance
And against boredom creates a fence.
When they appear before us,
They always create a buzz.
Of the beauty of the nature,
Seasons are the fetcher.

At the beginning of the Summer,
We had a sense of humor.
But as days pass by,
Our opinion does fly.

From a good humorous mind,
Our joy wins a bind.
The warmth is rather unkind
And brings our troubles to a height.
Neither can we bear it, nor can we fight.

The fiery wrath of Summer
Makes spread a rumor.
We can’t help but wonder,
When will the rain come?
And make the nature calm?

The land makes a face
Full of ugly cracks.
To stop or solve this case,
We must stop the racks.

Even in this blaze
And ever confusing daze,
Our mind find a way
To throw the soreness away.
Nature still has some beauty
To make itself look dainty.

After the fiery Summer,
We get back our humor.
In the sweetness of the rain,
Our sweat washes to drain.

The dark clouds descend,
And bring joy to all.
They try hard to mend,
And clear off the gall,
As the cool drops fall.

They clean off the tiredness,
And bring in a stillness.
The pitter-patter they form,
Washes away the thorn.

Down comes the rain.
But all their efforts go to vain.
No sooner had we begin to enjoy,
The storm rushes in
And violence covers the joy.

The fury of nature
Is clearly shown in the storm.
Taking lives of old and hatcher,
A chaos it does form.

Leaving the wrath of nature,
We see a friendly gesture.
The Autumn comes in
With beauty no mean.

The farmers carry the crops
Grown during the drops.
A sweet season as this,
We have no way to miss.

The white foamy wools
Amble through the sky.
They are not the stormy bulls.
And help to beautify.

The young, green leaves
Tend to turn brown.
When the Autumn season leaves,
They have to fall down.
Nature prepares for a chill;
The Winter chill.

But till that day,
We have many more delight.
Sitting on the hay,
We think of nature’s might.

The sky above,
Clouds as white as dove.
In such a nice weather,
Our heart seems like a feather.

O it is Winter.
The coldness is too bitter;
The warmth that it seize,
Brings our life to a cease.

O it is Winter.
The sky wears a covers;
Wet grass creates a titter,
And also makes us hover.

O it is Winter.
The beauty that it possess
Is too good to be bitter
And makes our mind daze.

O it is Winter.
Our mother begins to bake.
It is sweet, but not bitter
The fragrant of the cake.

O it is Winter.
The birds don’t twitter.
The chances are few,
So step up in the dew.

After a long, awaited Winter,
Leaving what is bitter,
Comes the season king,
With the beauty of Spring.

The sky turns blue,
As the golden plate wakes.
It gives us a clue
Of the joy Spring makes.

The fallen leaves of trees
Are replaced by the news.
They amble in the breeze,
‘Cos there’s no more dews.

The birds, too, don’t forget
To enjoy the Spring.
The stiffness that they met
Is refreshed as they sing.

The flowers don’t shy,
And their beauty just blooms.
The butterfly passes by,
And brings end to glooms.

The beauty of the Earth,
In the Spring does bloom.
I’m proud to have birth
In a world without glooms.
How was the poem and its title?
Good title but bad poem.
Good poem but bad title.
Good title and poem.
Bad title and poem.
Hell disgusting, never show me again.
Published: 2/3/2010
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