They say it's a time to slip in the mud, and begin anew.
Kick off the dust of yester ...
and put on the dress of Yes Sir! and Thank You Ma'am
She sure is a joy This baby little season
And like moths to a flame we praise her name
(we don't need a reason)
And who can blame the helpless admirers
trigger happy on their Kodaks
drunk with Marigold Merriment.
No matter your profession, everyone's a poet,
when spring comes along, like a child, showing off her dandelion face,
believing in her curious way that death has been conquered.
But reality comes in firehouse red,
with silver sickle blades that say, No can do, Little Miss Spring,
not every bird, on every branch, has a song to sing.
The fact of the matter is ... you're just another three months
(Winter? Autumn? They're simply taking an overdue lunch,
but they'll be back with the same fire The same ice)
Hate to break it to you, Sweetie, but not everything nice
is destined to remain (it's a cyclical thing ... you understand)
You can bet your slender green stem
even Little Miss Spritely has her down days,
but like teenage hysteria it's just a phase
(we can just pretend those zits are poppies
they smell fragrant enough)
And yes of course It's a time of LOVE!
Young and Fresh --- Tongue and Flesh
like good ole Elmer Fudd would say
(bweeding like wabbits)
Oh Little Miss Spring, surely you can't have everything!
Green grass and blue sky --- it's halfway sickening
the way you steal the show with your sunny splendor.
And Poor Old December ... you left him in the cold,
bragging up your warmth and innocent demeanor
(I saw what you did to the snow)
It can all be forgiven though Truly it can!
I know it might feel like I'm freezing you out
(but all the cool months are doing it)
... 'tis no excuse you saw through my ruse
I'm just killing time before the Melancholy Mob
comes back into town.
Remember how they used to hang around Stick in the Mud Lane
poking holes into your joy?
(they annoyed me too)
And what became of the pessimists, the argument-ists,
the I-don't-believe-in-all-this kinda crowd?
Are they all hibernating somewhere like Mother Grizzly?
(If you ask me they can take all advice from this soda pop
fade and fizzly)
Written March 15th, 2016
For the Spring Contest Hosted by Catie Lindsey
Poem of the Day: March 18th, 2016
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016
The March madness ends
I am just an April fool
looking for sunshine
Copyright © Robin L. Gass | Year Posted 2009
Golden Andy the dandy had bling
when he leapt from his bed with a spring
the golden ring in his -
he kept warm with a sock
while his gal sang where's my ding-a-ling?
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015
SPRING HOUSE CLEANING ( reverse Etheree)
what an awful mess!
dust cobwebs outside dirt
it boggles my mind to think
when I think it’s of other things
wouldn’t it be nice to take a nap
all day but then the mess will still be there
know what? I saw an add in the paper
this old chinese lady cleans houses
she is very reasonable
654 – 7328
“hello chinese lady?
you say she’s out now?
what does she charge?......
Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2010
'Tis another glorious spring and I planted my garden with the expectation,
That I shall reap a bountiful harvest for my table with minimum frustration!
I planted the usual stuff - carrots, radishes, onions and termaters,
Watermelons, peas, corn, beans and a few hills of russet pertaters.
With the Good Lord's help, lots of sun and occasional showers of rain,
The seeds sprang to life along with some curses that are my infernal bane!
I've discovered that I have a healthy crop of weeds that need attention,
And a host of other intrusive visitors that I'll proceed to mention!
I was dismayed to discover legions of caterpillars and mealy bugs,
Pruning my plants along with hordes of ugly snails and slimy slugs!
They're even being attacked from below by gophers and moles,
And from above by crows making diving sorties from the clothesline poles!
'Coons, 'possums and wabbits at raiding my garden are very deft,
And armies of well-disciplined ants are gleaning what is left!
I even caught some nasty little kids filching a watermelon last night!
I chased them but those little dudes took off with the speed of light!
With a storm of wind and hail this morn I saw all my labor disappear!
Come next spring I think I shall opt to sit on the patio and guzzle beer!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012
Oh wonderful jumbleful spring
hormones awakening after winter naps
making bumbling idiots
out of unsuspecting saps
Oh dopey me, I bathed
perfumed, powdered and dusted
picked out slinky sexy things
getting more and more flust’ed
I skipped down the lights
and locked the stairs
let down the dogs and
tripped over my hair
“Dames Javid” I purred
“come sugar me some lip”
as I swiveled my eyelashes
and batted my hip
He tongued on his trip,
as he blew in my eye
then gazed in my ear
and heaved a big sigh
Ah, Springtime, it’s jumbleful
don’t you agree?
Cause pobody’s nerfect,
Copyright © Trudy Diane Rider | Year Posted 2009
Submitted to the "Gone Fishin" contest
Trollin’ the islands at Texoma,
It was April, 1964.
New rod and reel in hand,
I’d NEVER been fishing before.
A Garcia 2510T casting rod.
The reel, a Mitchell 301,
Plus hand-selected worms and lures…
I was ready to have some fun.
My teacher, a master fisherman,
Had fished all over the earth...
From trout in Austrian mountain streams
To sea bass just west of Perth.
He showed me all the basics,
Including how to tie a lure.
“No snaps. They’re no good.
Tie’em on…just to be sure.”
He made me practice casting.
“Take aim with your rod’s tip
Take her back - ten, eleven, twelve, one;
Smoothly return to ten… with just a little flip.”
While I practiced the casting motion,
He said, “Large Mouths will be jumpin’ bugs.
Water’s bubblin’ with Sand Bass spawnin’.
You’ll know the difference if one gives you a tug.”
As we drifted around the islands,
He said, “I think you’re ready.”
So, I picked a lure, a pretty Heddon;
And tied her on. My hands were steady.
Yellow with black dots and a weed guard.
A streamer tail and double treble hooks.
Who knew if she would do the job,
But I liked the way she looked.
As I tied her on, I looked around
For a likely place for my first cast.
Magazine pictures always showed weeds
In the background of a striking Bass.
So, I picked a reed bed in the shallows;
Threw my first cast, watched her fly.
What happened next was the stuff of dreams.
We couldn’t believe our eyes.
About eighteen inches before she lit,
A monstrous Large Mouth erupted from the water.
My teacher screamed, “Holy Mary, Mother of God!
Kiss O’Reilly’s Ugly Daughter!”
When the Bass broke water, it scared me.
My whole body jerked and shook.
So sudden, so silent, it seemed like slow motion.
Until I heard him screaming, “Set the hook! Set the hook!”
When the big Bass scared me,
I must have set the hook.
The tussle was on, long and hard.
This fish didn’t want to be cooked.
My lack of skills prevailed, however,
As I finally reeled him in;
I grabbed him by the lower lip,
Like I’d seen Don Wallace do, time and time again.
“Oh, my God”, he murmured as he weighed the Bass;
“Jeez. Over thirteen pounds....Thirteen pounds, two.”
He took out his Polaroid and laughed,
“I’ll take a picture of this fish... holdin' you.”
He snapped the picture of me holding the Bass;
On the back wrote the date, the length and weight.
As he turned to put the camera away……
Get ready. This is the part that’s great.
I’d watched Don Wallace ‘catch and release’.
He always did that on his show.
“This fish put up a good fight.” he’d say;
“Now it’s time to let him go.”
Yes, as my teacher put away the camera,
I held the big Bass by the lower lip and tail
And ‘swished’ him in the water,
Making sure his gills would not fail.
My teacher turned and saw what I was doing
Just as I let the big Bass go.
This, too, was like slow motion
As I heard him screaming, “NOOOOOOO!”
“Why would you do that, Lad?
Do ya know nothin’ at all?
A fish like that... on your very first cast?
Well...Lad, that fish goes on the wall.”
“Well…he’ll be here next year.” I said with a smile,
“And even bigger, I’ll bet.”
He said, ”You’ll make a fisherman, Lad.
It’s not for the fish that we fish…
but for the great stories we get.”
I still have that lure…and the rod and reel.
Still in their bags and boxes, just like new.
I thought about selling them on eBay,
But 50 years later, they have sentimental value.
You see…I’ve been invited to go fishin’ several times
By golfin’ buddies and other friends;
But for some reason…I really don’t know why…
I’ve never gone fishin’ again.
They say, “Truth is stranger than fiction.”
And I believe that is a fact.
I hope you enjoyed this bit of truth and,
In the meantime…..”Ya’ll come back!”
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
A pig in peplum and pearls
under a pergola twirls.
Pendulous petunias sway
while percussion plays.
Whispering spring breezes,
a tickle in my nose, i sneezes.
Copyright © raskin bobbins | Year Posted 2013
April time is near
Tax man on the prowl
Copyright © Rick Zablocki | Year Posted 2013
The Roses are Red
The Violets are Blue
The sunshine has got in me
And the Devil has, too.
The Sunshine’s hit Dragon
Oh what will we do?
He poo’d on my Roses
Oh I know what I’ll Do!
So I Gave him a bath
Most wonderous thing!
He’ll be stuck in the tub…
Come Hell or next Spring!
I know, I know
But The Devil won’t let go!
So I’ll Run to McDonald’s
For them lucky guys
These to bestow!
There once was a guy named Elliot
Who’s funny bone hasn’t broken yet-iot
But never fear… Grandpa Troll is here
Laughing and rolling on the floor like an id-iot
I know… I know… Don’t cry… at it!
Dragon’s the one who wrote-iot
Hey Dragon… I was THE ONE who started writing it… I say!
Well Yes… it WAS funnier that way
Well, OK! YOU WIN… I said with a grin…
Your such a silly Dragon-iot… I said with shagrin
Think he’ll get that one… in the end?
Well, Maybe just incase, I’d better start running… I say
My friends… won’t tell Dragon so it’ll be OK
Well…Maybe?… Naw… No Way!
And No…Dragon! I Did NOT get Carried AWAY!
Naw… No Way!
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2015
I can't hear, said the man to his wife
Did you say, that you're holding a knife?!
with her hands hid behind
a smile not truly kind
Lunging forward he sprang for his life!
Submission for poetry contest: Spring Forward (Limerick)
Copyright © Kimberly Shaw | Year Posted 2015
There once was a gent named Springtime Ned
Who on that March morning sprang from his bed
In amazement and shock
He forgot to set his clock
Now with his boss on thin water he'll tread
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2015
If he could spring in more money,
and avoid acting apparently funny,
Will see springing young buds ahead of spring,
and essence of joys that life surely does bring,
Will relish the cushion springs with his sweet honey !
Written March 5th, 2015
For contest by Debbie
Copyright © Dr. Upma A. Sharma | Year Posted 2015
Oh No! Oh No! What has my son done? I hope it’s, not already to late!
He lives at a fraternity house, and surely, you know THAT intense mental state.
March has St. Patrick’s Day, Spring Break, and has, of course, Easter in it, too.
So they decided to have some great fun, yes, a fun filled month to happily ensue.
They invited a Leprechaun, the Easter Bunny, and the king of bongos, a gnome.
Apparently they convinced everyone it’d be more fun, to Simply… Stay… Home.
The whole campus flooded thru that fraternity house, in the party’s that ensued.
And they convinced the Easter Bunny to do jello shots in every color and hue.
He became known as THE BUN, yes, The One who finally, truly could fly…
And the Leprechaun danced till he dropped… to a great bongo serenade, aye.
There was no SIMPLY about this! As the music rocked the frat house, next door.
And girls were seen coming and going, at all hours, even passed out on the floor.
This was the party no one missed… even the frat house with the snobs, were there.
It’s said even some of the President’s security attended, partying there, somewhere.
Before they were done, a plan was sown, as the gnome found it’s yearly, new home.
Yes, it got there, in Washington somehow, on the top of the Real ‘White House’ Dome.
But along the way THE BUN was lost… some where along the never-ending roads.
The Leprechaun called me, our Dragons and Trolls, to help, to search the highroads.
The poor little guy was so pie eyed, when we found him along that crazy way, so…
We fixed him up, we didn’t give up, until we could send him, into that Easter Frey.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013
Springtime fills the air,
like laughing gas.
(Or maybe more like whiskey.)
The suburbs are drunk on the nectar of it's dawn.
are starting to dance.
(Or maybe they're just wobbling.)
They vomit whole families onto their lawn.
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV:
Confused and intrigued,
with a slight urge to pee.
The father cuts grass,
like a sleepwalker.
(Or maybe more like a zombie -
Ravenous for cheap beer, instead of brains.)
A six pack later,
he starts washing his car.
(Or watering his driveway.)
He's spreading on wax so he's set when it rains.
The mother kneels in dirt,
tending the garden.
(More like digging in a sandbox.)
Her spade is rusty. (Figuratively, at least.)
A sunset later,
she cooks family dinner.
(Or maybe orders some pizza.)
(If every mouth is fed, she can call it a feast.)
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV.
The son plays war games,
dying for fun.
(Or maybe more for practice.)
He whines about fruit drinks, as well as the heat.
A full pitcher later,
tweaking on sugar,
(Or maybe just corn starch.)
the war escalates, 'til its time to go eat.
The daughter makes a picnic,
inviting her toys.
(Or maybe not.)
(Her plastic spread can only spread so thin!)
After the tea time,
she's off picking flowers.
(Or maybe weeds.)
(As long as they're pretty, there's a vase that they'll fit in.)
They gather, as a family, at the table to say grace.
They hold each others' hands and say, "Amen."
(And proceed to stuff their face.)
The dog sits by the boy -
Loyal and true.
(Or maybe just hungry.)
He drools as he stares from the corners of his eyes.
he offers to help with the dishes.
(Or maybe he demands it.)
The boy sneaks him a bite. The dog is not surprised.
Bedtime comes soon after.
The kids are sent to brush their teeth.
(Or maybe just to run the sink.)
They put on their jammies, and to bed, they go.
After tucking them in,
the parents watch TV.
(Or maybe they just dream they do,
sleeping in its glow.)
The dog is changing channels,
looking for a better show.
Confused and intrigued,
he pees on the carpet below.
Copyright © John Taylor | Year Posted 2010
Soy sauce drains
Into the white, clustered rice
spills . . .
Soy sauce taints
The whiteness of the grain
It slips out of my hands
No use...no point in crying out in rage
Though I was starving,
I'll just eat another thing and start on a new page
I'm hungry like a swine
I wish I can earn back my snack!
I'm as angry as a bull
I'm about ready to attack! Attack!
Soy sauce packages
Fall unto the dirty school ground
By bratty, conceited teens
They really need to eat their greens
Instead of junkfood and pizza
They should drink some water
Instead of drinking sugary drinks or
Sucking on popsicles obnoxiously
Why did the soy sauce spill? Seriously....
Copyright © J. W. Earnings | Year Posted 2013
I once knew this guy. Fred McBride
Whose wishes were sadly denied
He was wed in the spring
But before he could bring
the needs, of his wife, satisfied !
It's a shame that this groom and his bride
Purchased bedsprings, wrapped, coiled and tied
Big Fred jumping on
Bounced up and was gone !! ...
Through the ceiling, the roof, then outside !!
Poor Fred hit his head, and had died
Leaving gapes in the roof, long and wide
That bed was spring-loaded
The bride soon reloaded
her bed, ...where a roofer resides !!
For Deb's Contest: Spring Forward
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015
Spring and the great reveal!
Winter is now in full retreat,
those darkest days of rain and sleet,
the clouds will part, as if cut by knife,
the sun warms the earth to beckon life
I throw back the curtains in every room,
to let in the rays and light the gloom,
but then as I blink and my eyes adjust,
I recoil with horror at all that dust!
Spring cleaning is a chore I hate,
but it must be done now, it can't be late,
I mop and dust and polish with wax,
I can't sit in the sun, no time to relax
Now to the kitchen, where I cater,
to remove the dust from the radiator,
down the side of the oven, a treasure trove,
a forgotten chip and a garlic clove
Every room is brought up to muster,
thanks to me and my big yellow duster,
my muscles ache, my energy's sapped,
my face is aglow, my hands are chapped
I think I've finished, but no, wait,
I glance outside beyond the garden gate,
a rusty barbecue, and a lawn full of weeds,
a fence that needs painting, and sprouting seeds
Forgive me if I don't welcome this season,
the work it brings is beyond all reason,
I prefer the winter, the storms and the ice,
curled up with a film and some chocolate that's nice!
Cheryl Darby 2015
Copyright © Cheryl Darby | Year Posted 2015
a kiss of sunshine
pouty crimson horizon
Copyright © Edward McCormick | Year Posted 2013
Tonight I thought passion would bring
But not in the shape of a bed spring
The very moment I peaked
I felt what was breached
Now I am so very hampered in upswing
~*~ For Francine's "Wow Me in 5 Lines" contest ~*~
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011
Phil was a fuzzy groundhog
Sleeping peacefully below
He dreamed of warmer days
Days of no more snow
Then rough hands reached down
And pulled him from his sleep
What is going on, he shouted
Put me back you giant creep
Why did you drag me out right now
I don’t think you even care
Can’t you see it’s freezing out
Now put me back in there
I’ll come out when the time is right
But not now if you please
Spring will come in its good time
Put me back so I don’t freeze
You crazy men are worried
When will the winter end
It will come when days are warm
On that you can depend
Copyright © John Squires | Year Posted 2015
imagine the rainbow being
the dark tunnel
you've been stuck in for years
the lighthouse on the horizon,
that gets brighter as it nears
get soaked in the rain,
feel the sun in your heart,
let go of all your fears.
Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016
For "April Footle" Contest
Copyright © Corinne Curcio | Year Posted 2010
A drought has been declared, no hose pipes can we use
There has been such light rain for two years, but I think it is a ruse.
The day the drought was declared the heavens opened up
They have not stopped precipitating; one certainly dare not look up.
The water flows as free as lager at a barbecue
Constantly pouring, persisting it down, and the same problems ensue.
We are drenched in all sorts as drains do rise, and rivers flood their banks
But the drought warnings still apply there are supposed empty water tanks.
The spring rain is falling not like tears on babies’ cheeks
But pouring and pouring constantly, and has been now for weeks.
Still the drought does linger but I think I know the ruse
They will put the bloody price up, and watch us blow a fuse.
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012
Spring is in the air
'cause I feel it in my head.
I haven't slept in days now.
Oh!How I miss my bed.
The flowers are all so gorgeous
when they finally start to bloom.
But for me and all my allergies
It's a time for pain and gloom.
There's nothing like a spring time scene
with colors for all to see.
I take my shots and all my meds.
Oh!Why this happen to me.
Spring is in the air now
and I can't see or hear.
But even after all my pain
I love this time of year!
Dustin Self (spring is in the air contest)
Copyright © Dustin Self | Year Posted 2012
The first game of spring
It was the first game of the year.
The go lumpducks vs the hot rugcats.
On 1st base for the hot rugcats is: Tiny judy mad cat
On 2nd is Flash betty furball
At short stop is licky slip maybell
On 3rd three leg piggy polecat
Rt field Cassy cool cat
Cfield Tiffy Mudcat
Lt field Vicky short pants Field cat.
Pitching Wild arm Jayne legcat
Catching Junkcat Kitty
The game is cancel due to Rats on the field the team is hard to control
A real mess the lumpducks left after the first rat was tore apart.
But that's your line up for tomorrows game.
Copyright © Harold Hunt sr | Year Posted 2016
How much I pay
this old clay!
in one big gulp
composte this pulp!
Weeds and roots
pull those shoots
Where's my rubber boots?
The fever's on and pollen's a yellow haze
It has me in a daze and a maze
the windy smog
Has to be a short lived stage!
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2012
Time to pull off the coats
Push the heavy suits to the back
Open the windows and turn off the heat
Sprint time is here, fire up the grill
Sit on the deck, enjoy and chill
Listen to the birds as they conversate and sing
Time for light colors and showing off the bling
Turn up the c-d, it's time for spring
Copyright © Adrienne Gresham | Year Posted 2012
Three cups of espresso
I was raring to go
Grabbed the shovel
Out into the snow
Slipped in a hole
Sunk up to my knees
In spite of my gloves
My fingertips freeze
I have the brush
Start swiping at snow
Trying to find
The windshield below
Turn on the car
Let it defrost
Don't drop anything !
'til Spring it'd be lost
Thirty minutes later
I can see my whole car
Start shoveling to the road
Thank God it's not far
Put the car in low gear
Drive forward to the street
Reverse to my spot
Then twice more repeat
My new winter tires
Finally get used
But with two feet of snow
I'm less than amused
The path now is made
I go back inside
Admire my handiwork
With chilly pride
Glad to be off work
On this snowy day
Tomorrow I'll be ready
To just drive away
Hoping that's it
Winter's had its fun
Bring on the Spring !
Bring on the sun !
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
Oh, when will be Spring in Alexandria,
The Chrysanths crave for company
The sea breeze brings a melody,
The day that will be spring in Alexandria.
The flowers are going to bloom,
Proud like the star-dressed Daffodil
Dancing on the windy top of the hill,
The day the flowers will bloom.
Their scent will be carried away,
with the Cherry-pie giggling jingle
covering all paths with a lilac glow,
the day the scent will be carried away.
The bumblebee will stop her dance,
On the Everlasting tiny yellow petal
Dreaming memoirs of the coming Fall,
The day the bumblebee will not dance.
There is a secret Garden in Alexandria,
Not in the deep sea, or in the library
And no other town can be as flowery
As the secret garden of Alexandria.
Copyright © João Camilo | Year Posted 2013