On Manhattan's West Side...
You descend ancient stairs
You've crossed the Drive
River Side Drive
Expect to float on air of beauty.
Cherry blossoms pink won't wink
They'll courtesy as you walk, jog, bike
Their fragrance light and airy
Suffuse each path paved smooth
Sloped path leads to arched cemented canopy
As ancient as view
The Hudson embraces you
A garden path with bright flowers
Will warm your heart
The young, the old, those in between
They live for such scenes
Sky, trees, mound overlooking New Jersey
The Hudson River is where I met my honey.
Copyright © Iris Sankey-Lewis
Peace of nature shows
how relaxing life can be
and can show you truth
Copyright © Christian Childs
NATURE’S WONDERFUL PRIZE
Beautiful flowers so vibrant and alive.
I smell your blossoms all day and night.
May your rosebud be an image of the mind while I walk through the garden tonight.
You are nature’s wonderful prize.
Beautiful flowers open your mind to the photosynthesis as the sunrises.
You surely will flourish into a spectacular landscape where your flower garden caresses and comforts.
Might you shout via your colors as I paint upon the canvas?
I will sit children amongst the tulips and daffodils so that your splendor will escape into the creative imagination.
Beautiful flowers do you feel the breeze.
You are radiant radiance and brilliance seen.
I have watched you in your growth.
As nature’s wonderful prize, you are significant.
Heaven’s sun showers your stem.
In just a short while, I will see you bloom.
Penned on October 25, 2014 @ 1:09 a.m. EST!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker
Diamond dawn softened cold clinical walls,
smoothing harsh lines, soothing the sleepless
with the lullaby of love. Blossom-pastel hues
sparkled with crystals of dew;
glimmering prisms of diamond-cut light,
in the month of showers and flowering bowers.
Red and yellow daisies studded dark soil
like gemstones tumbled beneath the flower of the sun.
Sweet peas twined a bright trellis of light;
clinging like a baby's fist, curling around sunbeams,
climbing a golden ladder of sunlight.
Crystalline morning softly stroked your face:
a sleeping jewel, gently polished
by the early light of a late April sunrise.
dedicated to my little 'sweet pea' Jake, born 28th April 2009
Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
blows kisses to Bush Warbler
Dreams of distant love
Copyright © Lily Twinkle
And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth
I stand among the reeds in the basin
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home
Copyright © Jay Loveless
Since spring forgot to come and winter stayed,
My garden is untilled, seeding delayed.
A sodden March ran damply through each day.
I hope for April to remove the gray.
Each April is reserved for tulip tours.
The brilliant colors are delightful lures.
The tulips are attracting avid fans,
While other crops fill in as also rans.
Our valley is a beauty in the spring,
But spring is not here yet and that’s the thing.
We pray the sun comes out and is on time
For merchants to attract the tourist’s dime.
So now it’s up to April to perform
To give us days that are spring like and warm.
So tourists can find beauty and some fun
And I at last can get my yard work done.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson
Oh how furious it was, God sent his power from above. He let the Black clouds
and the rain come gushing through our window panes. Oh what scary a sight to see,
I felt like running, I tried to free me. The gushing winds blowing so fast, I never
thought I would last. The winds he sent was meant to be, to warn all of us our
souls need to be free.
He sent his fury fast and long, we were all surprised where it roamed. The tornadoes
went from one county to another, sending its wrath, killing, destroying and giving us
trouble. Cries were heard throughout the night, People screaming and praying with
all their might.
The tornadoes did not stop, they destroyed our lands, and ruined our crops.
The devastation it left on our minds is here to stay and will never go away.
This is a terrible storm we will never forget, because it lasted a long time and all
of us were upset. We hoped and prayed it would pass us by, asking and praying
to God, please dont let us die!
We all tried to seek shelter in our homes, before we knew it, everything was gone.
Some of us found ourselves standing outside with nothing hardly for cover, we were
screaming and crying searching for one another.
Copyright © Shirley Long
The long awaited needed rain
finally came in gentle drops.
Thirsty daffodils greedily
quaffed the tepid precipitate
while their odoriferous scents
reluctantly merged with ozone
creating a pungent bouquet
that stimulated the nostrils.
Far afield from the daffodils
robins comb the newly wet grass
for ever emerging earthworms
that are coaxed above by the rain.
Soon the tugs of war begin
between the two adversaries.
Copyright © Albert Ahearn
Everything is beautiful
It seems the whole world sleeps
Whilst I, so all alone
Sit beneath a sheltered roof
So far away from home
By the river, here in Nornalup
As Venus hugs the moon
They shine up there in the mystic sky
And my heart feels so in tune.
Everything is beautiful
In the silence of this morn
In just a couple of hours from now
The day will be reborn
And the sky now filled with sparkling gems
Will become the deepest blue
As the wild birds herald in the dawn
And the sun comes shining through.
The river oh, so gently flows
Just a shadow to my eyes
It goes it’s way in harmony
When the sun it does arise
It will glow once more reflecting all
Those lovely hues of green
That come from giant tingle trees
That enhance this lovely scene.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr.
I sit among the audience of my thoughts
Upon a chair
With my feet up high casually on a table
My senses, my breath, my heart rate is stable
Silence at this very moment is my mind’s favorite labor
The leaves they sway from side to side
so graciously, it is my favorite sight
The cherking of birds is my morning cup of delight
In front of me,
The rattle of the clear crystal pool is the depth and constancy of a single thought
The clear blue sky is my happy tomorrow
On my face you will find no trace of sorrow
Such a peaceful sight I see
If only you could bare witness with me
To such a glorious and heavenly sight
Like A picture perfect,
Or a beautiful view in Peru
The glorious nature has set me at ease
I am calmed by the steady breeze
Yet the buzzing of my cousin
Is like the sound of a busy bee
She speaks to me of heartache and despair
And the death of some distant loved one
She makes a noble and noteworthy declaration
To give me a kidney if mine decides to collapse
I smile at her with this carefree sensation
As I sit there typing and pretending to care
Tapping my fingers to a rhythm while unaware
Smiling a genuine smile and sighing a pretentious sigh
You want me to speak of wickedness and of madness
At this moment I am indifferent,oblivious, I genuinely Do Not Care
The quacking of a random duck
Came casually as pure luck
Lazily I yawn, so dazed, and simply amazed
I am hypnotized
At this sight that left me mesmerized.
Copyright © Mary Moussa
shards of rain and hail
pounding on the soaking grass...
april tempest blows
swollen river beds
fields of winter turning green...
peeking through the mud
showers feed the lawns
tender shoots that spring up strong...
flowers on the way
Copyright © Deb Wilson
Spring trees are full of tender
green buds, stretching into the air.
Fresh blackberries blooming white
The smell of honeysuckle and it's bright
stare are full of honey bees with a hunger
to mature, with care.
A long walk on a dirt lain, back
road with no where to go.
Gentle fireflies cascade in the
In the distance a young whiperwhil
calls to another.
A peaceful sound that brings to me
a soft shutter.
Spring is here once again and the rebirth
of life begins again.
I live to see each year's wonder earthed
and to it, my attention lend.
Copyright © Sharon Gulley
leaves burst mauve palette
as cherry trees twirl waltz’s crest…
boughs clad april’s crowns
adorned in satin-sheet gowns…
parading on towns
oh scent of sweet yolk
candy-coated like bud's cloak…
tickles of warm stroke
children squirt hoses
under april’s swirled poses…
all rights reserved
(( for Carol Brown's " What's the Buzz" ))
Copyright © nette onclaud
Dunes now flowing
Blow spring air
Sandblasts love ...
Copyright © Patricia L Graham
My name is flower
Of number one display and color
To commit suicide I decide
To take nuclear waste or pesticide
Am tired of you people polluting the air
Polluting our rivers and streams that's not fair
You clear out our jungles, you cut down our mountains
To make way for tall buildings Hollywood Mansions and fountains
You burn fuel for energy source
Depleting the ozone showing no remorse
You drill, you drain the earth of it's natural resource and nutrients
Causing a shift in the earth's plate
Evidence Tsunami and Earth Quake
I cannot take it anymore
This is the final straw
Yes am gonna commit suicide
Either by Nuclear Waste or Pesticide
O! yes you need me for oxygen
along with all other plant life existing
So if I were to take them all with me you'll die
You'll be no more... no lie?
So sit back admire the beauty, the splendor
The wonderful blossoming of a flower
In my last breath I write this suicide note
Dated 25th April 2011 by... flower
©Copyright April 2011 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Brian Pierre-Alexander
Dubieties engulf all around
As the brume in the dawn
Behold plants seeking strength
In this warm cuddling cloud
Songs soon sing from the sky
The common notes that play
When it’s about to drop wet
Upon human’s bower.
It’s wonted (by this time) to descry
Dark clouds being deserted
By its everyday residents.
In the mood of the inclement
It’s sparse to hear
Any row from the firmament
Other than the loyal sound
Of the saturated pattering
From the blue yonder.
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole
Will it be the last?
I’ve wished for it all winter -
No early spring snow -
The Gods haven’t heard my plea
Ground is covered already
Out with the shovel!
On with my heavy warm coat
‘Whistle while you work’
The old Disney song comes back
But I’m out the door cursing!
Copyright © daver austin
Here I rest upon the smooth rivers bank
Resting under the protection of white birch
Tasting the scent of spring on old Cape Ann
As if being reborn in the late April sunshine
Here thoughts and memoirs drift on the current
Washing away on coppery green wave crests
Watched by Snapdragon eyes gently drifting
Wafting in the sweetness of a juniper breeze
A brushed sedate glow of dusk mirroring light
Painting the currents of the Annisquam River
Lying in the peaceful and intrepid stillness
I wonder if I’ve found a moment of perfection
Softly baptized by the tepid evening drizzle
I see the silvery notes fall to break the surface
Playing the sweet libretto of rain and river
A rising crescendo of new life awakening
Here I find peace upon the placid rivers bank
Lost in memory amidst honeysuckle moments
It’s here that my spirit remains eternally young
Ever blossoming in the late April moonlight
Copyright © Charles Fuller
FIRST DAY OF ARRIL
The ground still crunches ‘neath my step
Yet this mild sense of renewal
Eyes still overcast
that endless roof of gray clouds
Yet this mild sense of renewal
The calendar’s 24th day
strikes a Sunday short sleeve warmth
Yet this lingering fact of winter
But the wide mild whiff
thought of spring
And I am born once again
Copyright © daver austin
On a frozen April morning when the frost was in the trees
There was blossom like a snowstorm as the sun warmed up the breeze
There were blackbirds making music teaching angels how to sing
While the bees began to forage, golden humbugs on the wing
Daffodils were slowly swaying under bushes turning green
And a bluetit woos his lady in a spot he thinks unseen
There's a fox that's heading homeward jumping fences on the way
Everything is looking perfect as the spring gets underway
As I whistled to the starlings that were sweeping up the street
And I skipped along the pavements missing cracks with both my feet
I was feeling very silly under skies so clear and blue
And it's all your fault my darling since you whispered "I love you"
Copyright © Jeff Green
a break in the clouds
leafy crowd rustles
blue jay darts in
point of concern
Copyright © daver austin
by René Annandale
On 22 April each year
we celebrate Mother Nature’s Earth Day
It is an awareness day
to shake us out of our dream world
that Earth will forever be here
Yet we orchestrate its demise
in so many ways
every single day.
On Earth Day we stop and think
for a while
and hopefully repent
of our foolish ways
Look at renewable energy
Investigate ways to curb waste
Recycle, reduce, reuse, upcycle
Mother Nature supports us
We have no right to abuse her
We should support her
in our daily journey around
It should be a combined effort
Use your mind
Get your hands dirty
If you must
Let us stand together
Let us fight
for the right to live
on this planet
we call home -
Copyright © Rene Annandale
A pale of spreading green
Fresh from earth’s inner need
Where she keeps her secrets
Talking to all green things
On some winsome April day
Unfurl your new banners
Against the lingering grey
Unhinge the sun, chase the shade
Freshen the sweet air
And let the smiling breezes blow
Soft, supple reaching heavenward
Fingers of green bud, break open
Into canopies cover, hover, Azure shells make spring birds,
and all the leafy creatures that Surround soft supple shades
For the world has turned ‘round again.
Copyright © James Gibbons
showers all day
the bay tree
Copyright © Brian Strand
cherry blossoms burst
blue feathers line a new nest
Madam pens haiku
Copyright © Patricia Sawyer
These April showers will drown the flowers
and chase the tourists all away.
The rain clouds hover, they run for cover
and wish they’d waited for a day.
But if they stay for only and hour
they’ll find that this was just a shower,
and it’s for certain we’ll raise the curtain
on fields of tulips in bright array.
The April showers are good for flowers.
Come back and see us in sunny May.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson
On April eighteenth,
Full moon will light up our sky,
A planned moonlit stroll.
Copyright © Dawn Gordon
She meandered through
new spring grass, startling bugs
shortening their lives, taking her fill
with grandeur displayed
solely for her benefit.
His swagger almost took him
airborne, his tail feathers spread
into a fan of splendor
his princely prance seemingly
not even a blip on her view
Our appearance on the scene
assured his utmost strut, trumpeting
at us as we laughed and mocked
his silly gobble
Yet his strategy succeeded
She now sits on her nest
at the edge of the yard
under the hickory tree, just beyond
where the mower runs
Copyright © Cona Adams