Raymond Foss Poems

In the following Raymond Foss poems, the seasons come alive and you’ll be nodding your head in agreement.

For those of you not familiar with Mr. Foss and his poems, he was born in Westfield, MA in 1960. The oldest of five children, his family moved to Claremont, NH when he was 16. He attended the University of New Hampshire where he earned a Bachelor of Arts in Political Science in 1982. In 1984 he earned a Master of Public Administration.

In the spring of 2000 Mr. Foss discovered his gift of poetry. Working for the University of New Hampshire, he was also a member of the Barrington, New Hampshire School Board. The Reading Specialist for the school system, Marcy Dovholuk, assigned the administrators and school board members the task of bringing a piece of poetry to read at the April meeting in honor of National Poetry Month. And thus began his journey.

Mr. Foss returned to school and became an attorney in 2004. In 2009, he authored the book Poetry Where You Live. To date he has written more than 9,600 poems! He considers himself a Christian poet and states “I hope these words bring joy, love, peace, and belief to a troubled world. People say that a picture speaks a thousand words. With poetry, I can paint a picture, capture a moment, a smell, a scene in a handful of words. I hope these words paint pictures for you.”

Mr. Foss currently lives in New Hampshire with his wife, Ruth, and three daughters. You can access more of his poetry at www.raymondfoss.com/Links.aspx (where you can also find information on his book) or www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com.

(Raymond Foss poetry: Copyright by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss.)

Summer Poems

Summer Rain
~ Raymond A. Foss

A break in the heat
away from the front
no thunder, no lightning,
just rain, warm rain
falling near dusk
falling on eager ground
steaming blacktop
hungry plants
turning toward the clouds
cooling, soothing rain
splashing in sudden puddles
catching in open screens
that certain smell
of summer rain


Winter Poems

A Hard Winter
~ Raymond A. Foss

Well, they talk of woolly-bear caterpillars
which is it, wide brown or wide orange stripes
or maybe it is when we have a lot of rain
something warns us, tells us that there
will be a hard winter
I’m worried about the squirrels in our yard
They are far too fat, far too ready for a long,
long cold white winter, ready for hibernation
Sitting in the yard, not going up on the table
any longer. No, they don’t run for the peanuts
They look at us, and demand to be fed,
saunter over, dare us to come over,
they are the signals, the indicators, for me
Oh it is going to be a hard winter
The squirrels are fat and surly.


A Ripeness of Winter
~ Raymond A. Foss

Frozen in her icy grasp
captured in the frigid stillness
coated by layer on layer
a blanket of white, of grey
a world in cocoon, caught in squall, in flurry
in the cold, soundless murmur
the hidden ripeness in slumber
Held in abeyance, ready to burst forth
in thaw and rebirth

Look carefully, see the maple’s nascent sprig
Poised for spring, for the smell of its flowering
Feel the warming of the sun after the solstice
the hope in the lengthening days
the smell of wood fire, the dance of its flames
Still in January the crunch of boots,
squeal of bitter cold snow
an arctic moment fixed in the wintry chill
lost in the brisk clear air
everywhere her grip holds sway
Waiting impatiently for the blooming
of the new season,
encased in the frosty ripeness of winter.


Winter Came In
~ Raymond A. Foss

Uninvited, unwelcome, too soon
winter came in
in through the open front door
as I sat reading on the couch
came in like a thief in the night
an intruder this evening
when she went outside
a gush of winter, a blast
of the coming cold
pushed its way in,
pushed the warm air aside
sent a shiver through me
with a smell of snow
which will follow
all too soon


Winter Coming
~ Raymond A. Foss

The white of the dusting of snow
lingers in the shadows, on the fallen leaves,
the cooler spots in the yard,
in the lee of the shrubs, the crooks of the branches
in subtle and still ways, remaining
a little longer, cooling the world,
providing fringe and accent
before the sameness of winter
when shades of gray in the snow
will mark its edges, dimensions
now it remains trim around the edges
in little and small places, in the calm
away from sun and activity
hiding a while before fading
slowly, slowly, away
before the winter coming

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