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.
In winter’s white, as angels cry
for early spring to warm the wind,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned.
For early spring to warm the wind,
at Valentine’s romantic calls,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls.
At Valentine’s romantic calls,
rebirth of nature’s light divine,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls,
and blossoms pastel shades recline.
Rebirth of nature’s light divine,
when day equals the hours of night,
and blossoms pastel shades recline,
to hail the queen of May in light.
When day equals the hours of night,
a summer’s sun will come to play,
to hail the queen of May in light,
we chant and sing along the way.
A summer’s sun will come to play,
so life can grow as gods decreed,
we chant and sing along the way,
with warmth and light our hunger feed.
So life can grow as gods decreed,
the rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
with warmth and light our hunger feed,
the wealth of harvest is our own.
The rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
in autumn breeze that chills the heat,
the wealth of harvest is our own,
as gold and red belies our feet.
In autumn breeze that chills the heat,
a year that ends with blessed Samhain,
as gold and red belies our feet,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign.
A year that ends with blessed Samhain,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign,
in winter’s white, as angels cry.
Down where roses bloom in the month of June
The scented petals will mature and fall
Carried by zephrys of spring like balloons
Those petals in the wind over land sprawl
Pale pink petals carried away to land
With a gental touch of kindness caress
The spring grasses with a delicate hand
Courteous as it lands with politesse
Each petal waits in turn to fly away
Their patience is long, each holds 'til time
They then 'pon the wind float and not betray
The Spirit within which is one sublime
Down where the roses bloom may the fruit grow
Let love lead as petals upon wind flow
Sponsor: Gail Angel Doyle
Contest: Petals In The Wind
Written this 23rd day of January 2013
Written by: Sara Kendrick
Little dove, perched in the snow
You need not ask
For, how well, I know
How your presence speaks quietly
Of faith in the spring
When you come out of hiding
And we hear your voice sing…
Rise up, gentle fair one
For winter will pass
The flowers will spring up
And the soft, meadow grass
As the spring comes alive
And the grapevines will blossom
Little doves, sing their song
And the sun warms the skies
Coo little, dove songs,
Your voice will resound
Winter shadows will flee away
When the new morning dawns
Inspired by Sara's Contest: "Song Of Solomon"
My loss -a sprung spring within my bed.
I sleep little, I roll, I rock I try-
To escape this spine stabbing spring -I toss!
Relief I do not find, I try to sleep.
I toss! Yet, still it is my bed, just mine.
My bed is large there's room to move about,
This spring it finds my back to hurt again.
But still it is my bed, that I have made.
I cut the wood; I nailed the planks, just me.
I bent the wire as for my springs to make.
My mattress I sowed, stuffed with feather down.
The floor to be a kinder place to sleep.
I curse this spring, I toss! My bed I hate.
This bed but with one spring I broke; I curse.
I made this bed with out concern or care.
The blame to who belongs, my lack of rest?
I made my bed in which I lie and toss.
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
only you and I
That goes beyond the reason
Makes us sing
And dance on our hearts-beating
Is it the moment
We've been waiting?
Let's close our eyes
For, our love is the eyes
That will lead us to Paradise
No one could die
That's our life
Play The Radio
Get Up And Dance All Night Long
Music Heals The Soul
Effulgent sun proffers love
Above the undergrowth…of
Thorns and weeds
The moon unravels wonders
I do not know?
Gazing upon the firefly hovering and then, whisking away amid blithe ~
Luminescent wings sweeping such ponderings; aside
Illuminating sunlit prisms within these, countless hues....
Waters washing times carved boulders as they journey toward the sea
Soon to be met by Spring tide melding and together they shall be ~
Centuries softly whispering into my ears; Half Dome, calling towards the heavens
Adorned in Her coat of virgin snow and oh, how spectacular She seems
Eyes which beckon to close aneath these, thresholds dreams....
Darkened lashes dividing unto such opulent spheres of sight
Visions crossing the tangible temporal tides as wings that soar ~
Meeting a Silvertail Hawk amid the tree top wherein, She smiles at myself
Set upon athenaeums assemblage swelling through my soul....
Taken to flight this warmth of the quatorial sky, now kissing Her lips
Assimilation pouring from the tips; ambrosias heartbeat ~
Pulsation; as that of a baby whom cries whilst reaching for the stars
Welcome to existence this, breath of life....
Reverberating jewels of wisdom to be given; these pearls of light
Silently peering beyond the chromatic firefly; fluttering reflections as prisms inside ~
Half Dome dressed in Her virgins white, pristine smile; beautiful
Luminescent whisperings and Spring tide thresholds
Mother nature and Father times, ions of love now, entwined
Euphorias waters of verdant making their way towards the sea and, into the child
...."Chasing Butterflies" ~
I do not know?
Fallen snow will remind of me/ it is snowing ...
Slowly as in the dream/
Boy word-beads/ with signs on his spine/
He kisses fine/
Your eyelids /
And it snows ... It snows /so slow/
It does/ and you're thinking of me/
'Coz it's warm/ it's better to stay in warmth/
Waiting for summer dim/
It is snowing/ slowly like in the dream/
Flakes/ go round/ playing the music theme/
You've been looking for rescue/
You searched in wine/
But it's in me/
all the rescues are mine/
It is snowing/ the snow is fluffy and white/
If you see darkness/ I'm deaf and blind/
there's the cast of time/ on the arm/
But I discern the light/
Dreams/ upon your eyelids tips/
Prepare you for winter drowse/
And it snows/
Fallen snow/ will remind of spring /
it will crumble and crackle in vain/
It will snow / fluffy /white/ and slow/
And you'll become whole/
Down in to the darkness deep
Slowly and delicately I now edge
In to the warmth so cold and bleak
In to the womb I once resided
In the mother I’d idolized
Wondering what did happen
Wondering what had changed
What had caused such death?
To cause such pain?
Still slowly moving, sneaking,
I started faintly weeping
Why would we cause this?
Why did we not see?
Still I inch, well tears did fall
Till a light I did spy
Till a sprig I now cradle
Now I see, as I gently stop my deplore,
My mother will forgive
All the hurt,
All the people that did denounce,
All she has provided
All that she cherishes
Yet she now grants;
All in the loud roar
The night air is cool and collective,
Running through my hair and face.
Even when I’m with people, I feel alone
In this cold blooded space.
It’s like walking through a garden
Of all your favorite foods,
But none of which can substantiate
For that one so special mood…
that beautiful frame of mind.
I only go there with you,
And only you can make it unwind.
I discovered a passion unlike any other
And in my finding I opened a world,
A world I did not know existed.
I’m on cloud nine every time I think of you,
Just the thought of you brings joy to my heart.
This garden holds many beautiful things
Many delightful pleasures,
Many cold nights,
Ecstatic times and unsystematic times!
But they mean nothing to me,
While I’m alone…
Walk with me through this garden.
By Ingrid Showalter Swift
Walk among the tall lithe pines as they sway
subtle hues of lavender’s dusk
Reach your illuminas fingers
with polished nails a-glittered
in crystal-ed gold and diamond sight
out and into this thrusting long light
…Searing a golden pathway from sky into dark walnut and pine and lines of
these byways ..only angels and devils alone ...dare tread
This forest is a barrier thin enough to breech
so teach me!.....I plead of you....
with lips blazing ... the need to speak volumes…like heat rising
Make me a lit oiled lamp on a tall white post
singing out ...streaming out into the streets gray toned and grayed with the
of the merciless weakness ...of humanity
lead me to hope….. yet still more
daring out …the dark night
yearning for just yet another... lilt hearted singular spring day to awaken within
the gates of this immortal town
held aloft by bone cavern and pale flesh tenting
Let light green springs erupt from me once more
and flow through all I meet
like the river shows the leaf to the ocean and then to the shore once more
The waters clear as I stand by the river
I see the reflection of someone long ago
As the storms come in I know I can't let you go.
Rain pours at times in this life you've given
But the shadows fade when my prayers have risen
Your love for me I've never new until now
When I see the waters clear, my reflection seems so near.
As time goes on I know you are near
Just seeing the way you help me stand
Just seeing the way you remove the fear
It helps my weakness seem so clear
That without you I am small
But as I take your hand, the walls get knocked down
The waters clear, the reflection I see now,
is you in me, this my Lord helps to make me free.
Written by://©Betty Bolden
Early Christmas morning I glanced outside,
and no snow was falling, and suddenly a vision of a luminous light
with a trembling child appeared in sight...
and could this have been the Infant of prophecy and might?
And He softly said with the sweetest and kindest voice,
"I bring you no snow but endless love...the warmest flame
that makes every forsaken and unhappy heart rejoice;
it's a gift so gladly given to all the believers of this blessed age."
Struck by that splendid appearance, unafraid,
I ran to thank him for those wonderful words,;
and not having seen any gift under the decorated spruce,
I seemed puzzled, but not fearful or nearly surprised.
There it stood, my gift from that generous child with golden, curly hair:
a purple spring crocus never seen before, an Alpine flower
which grows in early April in every emerald meadow...
I leaned forward with much gentleness and plucked it from the cold snow.
When I stood up, he was gone and not a trace of him could be found,
and who was that cherub without wings...to leave that flower in the bitter cold?
Wasn't He the Christ Child who was born in a Bethlehem's abandoned stable?
And wasn't hope the meaning of the purple spring crocus so beautiful?
I do not know?
Life is like a warm summer day;
Full of obstacles and delay.
Like is like a summer past;
No single moment will ever last.
Life is like some winter snows;
It has its high points and its lows.
Life is like a winter sky;
Beautiful, until the day you die.
Life is like an autumn wind;
Chilling you through 'til the end.
Life is like an autumn moon;
Foretelling of something coming soon.
Life is like a spring rain;
Giving you something to gain.
Life is like a spring child;
Always smiling, always wild.
Life is short,
So live it tall
And God will see
You through it all.
(Dedicated To Ebony Webb R.I.P)
With each stone,
A certain size,
A distinct color,
Water flows gracefully
Over each backbone of the brook.
Along the brook,
The water is pristine,
Yet calm and quiet,
Rolling over stones
And pebbles, the water streams into
A natural spring.
The spring dwells
Offering life after passing.
Bright blue skies on a spring day
Fulfills my horizon
Blue birds and robins pass me by
Mountain, trees, and animals
Priase God Abroad
The frsh air bring forth calmness
A quiet serene a waits my soul
Red orange and violets
Represents God's glory
Flowers slowly rise with the sun
And water crickets sings songs of glory
Fresh water arises with the scent
Of of sweet savory of God's spices
Beach rolls in the lazy tide
I sit back and enjoy it all
The art of spring is glorification
Of all tings God created
He's the world famous artist
Give me a season....give me a reason...to start anew
It's gonna be autumn soon and the leaves are dropping like dew
Give me a season...give me a reason...to change color
I bet I'd be the color blue....Ohoohooooh... But I'm just a blur
Give me a stairway...teach me the baby steps...to start anew
It's gonna be a tornado...pretty soon and the wind is blowing so true
Hold my hand...hold it tight...give me your trust...give me a sign of contentment
I bet you're the color yellow...like the burning sun....ohoohoooooh...we'll set up a tent
We'll be together at last...the ocean won't separate us...ohoohoooooh no!
We'll be partners at task....the mountains won't make us give up...ooh ooh no!
We'll be together all the time!
We'll be together...no matter what time...
What season...what day...what hour
We both got the power
And we won't cower!
We will blossom up like a flower
And we will be as vigilant as a tower!
I'll change the season to spring time
Just for you...just for you...
I'll obliterate the darkness and destruction...I'll wipe off the grime
From your hand...from your hand
Our friendship will never cease
And we'll create peace...
Peace in mind
Peace that you'll find
In the Spring time
There is a time
For peace, love and hope
I'll do what you wish and never say "nope!"
Because we'll be working together
And we will conquer!
And we will be stronger!
And we'll create peace...
in due time...we'll have peace in mind
Peace that we'll find
In the Springtime
I know that without you my life wouldnt be my life
I know that without you I'll never understand
I know that wiithout you I wouldnt be able to smile
you know I was told by a very bless person
that everyone have season
and right now I am going though my winter
even though It seem like my spring will ever come
I know as long as I have the faith the size of a seed
that everything will be ok
My faith is not that I wish it will be
but I know that as long as I keep doing what I am doing
my spring will be here in no time
I sit on the windowsill
and admire the silent sky
that is partially dark;
I listen to the crickets
that hide in the oak's massive branches...
doesn't it suggest suspense and melancholy?
How can the ivory moon of spring brighten my night
and dissipate every surly thought
that interferes with my contemplation?
It's my desire to feel and hear peace,
which in daytime is so immensely absent;
and unlikely nighttime, it only offers implausible allure.
No verses I will write tonight and begin dreaming...
instead, I'll look further into space and believe in creation evermore;
I'll hear Daniel's voice echo through its immeasurable vastness,
and perhaps the ivory moon of spring seeing my sadness
will brighten the gloomy night before stars vanish behind the blazing clouds.
Nothing makes one forget the stillness of a warm noon
more than that memorable stroll
with our sweetheart as butterflies
gently flutter over us to be admired, making us
remember the tender beauty that spring was.
Everything around us emanates joy,
harmony is seen everywhere in this forest,
but peace isn't the only thing the traveler seeks,
and surely bluejays can arise much curiosity
with their songs that sound good to the ear.
Walk with us on flowery paths, say hello
to the timid squirrels with long, patchy tails;
rosemary bushes are fragrantly sweet...
to remind all the tender beauty that spring was.
SPRING AND THE DEVIL'S ARM
Abbreviated by an early autumn night
the summer, once tormented by a torrid sun,
relented to September, as if dying might
give reason to all things the heat and time has done;
The stalks of corn, if touched, explode into a dust,
and water tables sink down to a new found low,
but love always goes on, as love, it always must,
through drought and flood, and shortages that come and go.
There in the field, an old man points his maple cane
as if a prophesy, and something we should know,
always, always, always, there will be too much rain,
or not enough, and only love can ever grow.
There is a blizzard brewing, it's part of the plan,
up in the wastelands north, with tons and tons of snow;
and on a winters' morn, snow will be deeper than
the fences seperating everything we know;
and how the wind will howl, and everything will freeze,
there's little we can do, but hope for early spring,
always, always, always, we fall down to our knees
in love and prayer that times like this always will bring.
Next spring the rains will always fall, perhaps too much,
for some the devil's arm will reach down from the sky,
and twisting life about, there is no gentle touch,
excepting love, and that is all that gets us by.
Always, always, always, love has to always be,
though borrowed from the wind, though sought in pain,
though snatched out of the grip of some cotastrophe,
if not for love, there'd be no welcome summer rain.
The prickly pear cactus is frozen
And the plant has toppled over
As the temperature rises, clouds cover
And the plant thaws will it spring approval
In the spring will it be a trooper
With the instinct for survival all over
(This was the morning that Cody had phone calls at three AM and he didn't wake up to
answer them and I finally just got up. No excuse. I should have checked my work. Sara)
As winter turns to spring I’ll see her there,
With eyes that cast aside my bashful mask,
And with a snowdrop’s kiss I am aware
The year ahead is now a simple task.
With eyes that cast aside my bashful mask,
My fingers feel the earth beneath my nails,
The year ahead is now a simple task,
She turns the wheel again so life prevails.
My fingers feel the earth beneath my nails,
While planting seeds to greet the summer sun
She turns the wheel again so life prevails,
I smile again as Brigid’s works is done
And with a snowdrop’s kiss I am aware
As winter turns to spring I’ll see her there.
Daffodils bunch, spring has sprung,
Sun raises higher to waken sleepy heads;
No time for hibernation now as spring fever hits, -
create time to get together; go fly a kite,
or sit and chill, make daisy chains.
Let the sunshine bring warm sunny days.
In meadows baby lambs take their first steps;
whilst mad March hare hops and plays
with baby bunnies dotting the green fields
of the countryside.
A season where everything wants to bloom,
time to trim those lawns and weed again;
and all just in time before spring rains
will once more aid those thirsty
flowers and bulbs as they grow.
For it is now that gorgeous butterflies
flutter gracefully by giving nature a helping hand;
pollinating the kingdom while watching little chicks -
crack open their Easter eggs, just in time
to join in the madness of this happy holiday season.
Summer ended too soon
Autumn leaves falls under the moon
Snowflakes chills the winter air
As spring flourishes with care
Raindrops will slowly pour and give the seeds
A new hope after the cold and lonely season
The sun will shine as if it has never been deprived
Of rising during the cold and lonely season
The bitterness of seeing the leaves
Cut-off from its mother branches
The sorrowful sight of trees
Uprooted from Mother Earth
Even if the flowers are already withered
For now it’s leaves are sleeping
A new branch will soon come out
And the tree will be soon alive again
Snow will soon vanish from your way
The leaves of hope won’t fall soon
Neither shall the trees be uprooted
That’s the promise of spring God will keep forever.
Tis spring and budding the crocus blossom
the fuchias have died from winters fright
the cold gate of winter has released it's might
and yet in hybernation is the possum
the spires of the foxglove will skip this year
within the glacial tears have winnowed past
then distilling of snow hardened fast
anon the daffodils and violets will appear
The shoots of life spring forth in arias song
the frost within the heart of winter fled
fountains bound forth from waters shed
they have all been kissed upon by dawn
In the hills the trails gates are broken
winters past has smote it's autumn
languishing leaves can never blossom
and beauty of it's death rarely spoken
Purple lupine forest yet to stretch the meadow
the wetland swamps lay still in fallow
yet is tendered by frog and swallow
soon the cattails and water lillies fellow
The leaping children of the woodland forest
will spring forth from lonely glen
and years to rushed for blessing men
yet in it's radience within does rest
Seems felonious that within rejuvination
that the doubts of men should sprout
when manifest of nature does so shout
that rebirth to life and love it's susperation
But one must chose what one's course is fated
rebirth it's possibility to man
in soil the breath of life to land
Nature has so amply demonstrated
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
An unbearable pain awaits her;
For my beloved who is to bear.
A man cannot know this
Even when Daddy is there.
Hope may spring eternal
But it cannot quench the fire
Of the fruit of the labor
Spawned from our heart’s desire.
I think to myself...
When will it be time?
It is then that Grandfather Clock gives
My daughter her very first chime.
She gasps her first breath
Blessing us with her first cry.
She is born new and alive!
And all she knows is time.
Next door is a boy of few moons
Who hasn’t seen a single sun.
Born before his time
Most think his life is already done.
Don’t tell that to his mother
Don’t you even dare!
For she sees the clock.
She is fully aware!
She thinks to herself
“It is not my baby’s time to go!”
But within minutes
His Bell will sadly toll.
He gasps his last breath
And His mother begins to cry.
...Even as an Innocent of Grace
All his Mother feels is time.
A man of many moons
Is seeing the setting sun.
Living beyond his time
The man know his race is won.
Hope will spring eternal
And so will his life.
Not for his good fruit of labor
But from Another’s toil and strife.
He thinks to himself
It is now my time!
And with that, Grandfather Clock gives
My friend his very last chime.
He sips his final breath
But blesses us with a final smile.
He awaits a new and lasting life
Where everything he has is time.
The man’s daughter begins to weep.
She hasn’t seen the Father’s Son
She is living on borrowed time
And in faith she professes none.
Don’t tell Christ to his daughter.
Don’t you even dare!
She glances at her watch
Totally without care.
She think’s to herself
“It’s not my father’s time to go!”
But to the Believer
His Bell did gladly toll.
She mutters curses under her breath
She feels as a victim of crime.
Persons of Grace can give no consolation,
For she feels cheated by time.