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Introspection Spring Poems | Introspection Poems About Spring

These Introspection Spring poems are examples of Introspection poems about Spring. These are the best examples of Introspection Spring poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ballade | |

I love rain

I love rain

It's a month now into spring
And still the rain pours down
Hey, is it ever going to end
There's many here that frown
They want the sunny weather
That will come soon enought
But right now, I'm enjoying it
Rain, I love the stuff.

Next week we're off on holiday
Now it really does rain there
And I'll love very bit of it
As it soaks up everywhere
To hear it's rhythm on the roof
It makes me feel so grand
Though many think that I am strange
They just don't understand

We don't get much rain in WA
So when it comes,  for me
It makes me so excited
I guess it's how i be
So keep that rain a coming down
Let me feel it's soft, wet touch
I don't know what is wrong with me
But I love rain so much.

23 September 2013 @ 0624hrs


Details | Free verse | |

Shrink Wrapped

The days go by
as I walk around the man made lake,
churning the tides of time backwards
making butter from the gold and brown broth
a solitary wanderers on the same gravel path.
Always a person for whom the flow meant danger
from spring to summer,  I walk the scene
with cheery “mornin’s”
popping the insular bubbles 
of self imposed

Silence.

The days go by
as spring returned to my aged step.
The flow lures the weary mind tired of treading water.
Glassine eyes cataract dimmed clear and lift to blue skies.
Familiar faces grin back hooked 
on a cheery “mornin’”
Marshaled resources clockwise turn.
Forward thinking, right sided, occasion walks
from summer to fall
popping the insular bubbles 
of self imposed

Silence.




Details | I do not know? | |

The Blooms Pristen

In the spring, I'm a Daffodill
In many hues, dancing on the hill
Swaying with  the gentle breeze
In the spring I'm easy to please

In late spring, I'm pale pink rose 
Growing on the trellis, inviting bees toes
To touch on me, drink their fill of nectar
Sweet, in late spring I'm real neat

In early summer, I'm Buddleia
When Butterflies come, Cassiopeiae
Is so jealous of the attention
As they touch and tickle my extensions

Later on I become Great Yellow Gentian
At this time I'm in another dimension
Waiting the time in the fall when I've lived all
Then I become the great Sunflower in the fall

When winter arrives, I'm  barely now alive
This is when Camelia makes her debut
She is really now more alive leaves glisten
They've a glossy waxy shin and the blooms pristen

(In response to Andrea's Blog.)


Details | Free verse | |

The Storm

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


Details | Lyric | |

Garden Rose

Written August 21, 2013


There's a girl in the garden
She's messing with your rose bed
Plucking weeds out from your head
And watering the seeds in your bed

But where will she wander
When the roses are dead
Will she come back for more
When they turn back to red

She can run all alone
Write this story in stone
On concrete slabs
Of skin and bone


Details | Lyric | |

Nature's Sigh

The Black butterfly waves away her adorations
All she seeks is seclusion, subsuming slave to mortification
The Dear Air is all she can breath, captive of imaginary dreams
The Beacon resonates, but the hope isolates
The Wasteland's silky fingers caressing the virgin's face

So she is now, the covet of the damned
Programmed to every victim's pain
Carrying the weight of every sorrow
Drowning in wrongs she does not know
But paradise is at loss; she must go

Nature sighs after the bite
All my hopes fading
Don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes
How do you know exactly what I'm feeling?
I'm just the ghost flower passing by
And you can hear nature's sigh


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Pantoum | |

Face To Face With Death

The day I met the airplane face to face
Just going out to work awhile that day
Never knew I could be meeting death's race
Working for Census Bureau_month of May

Just going out to work awhile that day
Client list in hand maps to draw that's grand
Working for Census Bureau__month of May
Lovely drive early spring __last stand

Client list in hand maps to draw that's grand
Never thought that this could be last journey
Lovely drive early spring blooms__last stand?
Didn't know God had my life in hand_not on gurney

Never thought that this could be last journey
But when that airplane I met on a curve
Didn't know God had my life in hand_not on gurney
Pilot out window motion_already swerve

But when that airplane I met on a curve
Never knew that I could be meeting death's race
Pilot out window motion_already swerve
The day I met the airplane face to face...


Details | Couplet | |

The coming spring




I can touch buds on spring flowers as they open to greet the sun
Smell a sweet scent in the breeze, as the darkness starts to run 

feel on my cheek  ray's of the sun as life emerges from their bed
I taste the salt from my tears, GONE, is that what they said? 

If come spring my time on earth, should be ended with one word
I will do my best for family, to teach reason and spread your word

How do I teach family of my knowledge, hope God will please employ
How can this man teach his family, when he has lost all hope and joy?

Can the only one on earth to love or share this sorrow with be you 
Lost like falling leaves of spring, moving only when a cold wind blew

Realizing I'm caught between dying and dead just as these leaves
No happiness or joy just asking why, when, what or if I have to leave

Make good use of this man but, children dying take hope from this old boy
grand-child can't live, why should I survive without love, hope and joy?




Death is a thief of a child


"If spring is all the time I have to finish teaching what I know 
I'll teach what I can of life to my family without shedding tears"


Details | Haiku | |

MUSIC - HAIKU

Play The Radio Get Up And Dance All Night Long Music Heals The Soul


Details | Free verse | |

Suddenly the Storm


Suddenly the Storm
      by Amy Swanson


Beautiful spring day!
     Warm wind so soft
           playfully 
               lovingly
                     kisses my cheek

Dancing breeze 
      quite generous with your touch

                you send the fallen leaves to play
     
                     flying wild
                           like children in an outdoor race


*then quickly*


            sunshine sky darkens, the rains begin...


how could I know
       so soon you would turn

maliciously

                 violently

                                 cruel.

Wind - you grew quite pompous
        puffed yourself up so

                        Gone - the gentle breeze
                           that touched my heart


                     'til
    gathering yourself together

          --- ever faster ---


                             rip-roaring, threatening, all within your path


Gray sky - you accommodate
        destructive ego

                    once gentle wind 
                        now spirals, uncontrolled,
                               whirling, blackened cyclone
                                     no longer at play... 

you seek only to devour.


Those who see you shake
       terrible capabilites you now possess
              in your anger
                    feverishly pushing all down on their knees
                          to worship you in fear and trembling...
                                   expecting all to cower in their homes.



But...

          you are only wind.



Vain and proud, one thing you forget;
     you ride
           *you twist*
                   today's air currents

   (and take such full advantage)

        but only for a moment.


Just as suddenly
       reduced to what you were...

                a simple slight spring breeze before the rains
                     
                         (debris scattered around you from your tantrum)
                         
                                          silently awaiting - 

another day
another place...

you bide your time so well
destructive cycle

                                             *perverting Mother Nature's precious gift*


until the moment you arise once more

     so large, full of yourself

             uninvited, some distant spring day...
               
                     sweet, chiding wind, at first loving and playful

                      
then suddenly

                           the storm.


Details | Free verse | |

Battlefields of Discontented Dreams

Another year has marched out of my life.
A crusading warrior making his way back home,
Leaving bloody battlefields in his wake.
Trampled valleys where dreams once stood.

In the beginning, the year tiptoed in,
Softly sprinkling crystallized wishes.
Ideas, floating like a fine dusting of snow,
Forming a light covering on my bed of anticipation.

In swept the Ides of Spring laden with promises.
Storms tossing my wants in a turbulent sea of needs.
I planted my seeds with the expectancy of progression,
Hoping to find nourishment for my battered soul.

Summer scorched a path through my life
Bringing passion and potential to my fertile soil
Growing, thriving, reaching for the budding of fulfillment
Hopes alive, green and fresh, standing tall against adversity.

Autumn flew in on the winds of a changeling,
Taking the abundance and leaving a barren field.
Stripped of optimism, I wander in the fields of despair,
Wondering where my footpath led me astray.

Yes wicked winter with your freezing rains.
You beat against me, leaving blisters in your wake.
But Spring will return, of this I am certain,
Bringing with it the possibilities of contentment.


Details | Quintain (English) | |

Our Song Unsung

"There is something coming over me"
Love in everything_its amazing
Must be spring has pronounced decree
Great romance aflame blazing 
All the birds, crickets in song praising
Memories surfing corners of my mind
The spring of my life when we were young
The young love that we have left behind
Young love amazing, all reason to wind flung
Oh! For that spring again, our song unsung

Contest: English Quintain A Spring Day
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
February 02, 2012


Details | Free verse | |

Now I Am Free from My Step-parent

A life of beauty and happiness denied, of innocence 
smothered like a flame, I have always lived; but when 
I hear your lovely voice, my Lisa--

now I am free.

I was dead before I even entered into this world, a
place cruel and without feeling, cruel and without 
the love and understanding I finally know in the rich 
harmonies of your voice, my Lisa--

which sets me free.

Before I could even hope to bloom like a sensual
flower caught breathless and naked in the first, rainy
sunbeams of spring a great evil--the threatening, 
inner hostility of a dark figure overflowing with 
bigotry--transformed me into a joyless 

waste of ashes.

From that terrible moment on I fought all the ugly
and horrible assaults as his unwilling possession, a
gladiator in the arena of his constant abuse and 
myriad threats, subject to his occasional hostile 
looks from 

across the dinner table.

But when I hear your voice and imagine its tender-
ness and compassion as an unearned gift meant for 
me despite him and my child-like self-loathing: 

I feel the love and self-worth denied me, taken from
me simply because it was too easy to not rape from 
a child whose only fault was that he was born 

defenseless and
white.

O Lisa! Because of the music of your lovely voice--
now I am free! Free from my years as a gladiator in 
the arena of his constant abuse and attacks; 

free to bloom like a sensual flower caught breathless
and naked in the first, rainy sunbeams 

of Spring again!


Details | I do not know? | |

My Madness, Me

My Madness, Me...


Confined by this straight-jacket,
strapped in, numb and dumbed,
a washed-out, has-been, also-ran,

body, eyes, the equilibrium of mind,
rattling like stones in an old tin-can.


Still, I am, 

I am,

and I am unchained,

my dreams taking flight, soaring,
above these claustrophobic walls,
of synapses, and dungeons of stone,

swooping through green valleys,
taking a detour to savour the joys,

soaked in torrential, evergreen memories,
of a younger man, with passion in his bone.

I am.

My wings unclipped, unshackled, free,

I am, and though I am unable to see,

I am.

At long last,

me...



Details | I do not know? | |

Your Whisper

You whispered in my ear,
a breathy secret, hushed.

“I love you”, you murmured.

I said nothing,
lost, in your arms,
I found a home. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
I said nothing,
lost in my thoughts,
I found peace. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
words failed me then.

They still do.


Details | I do not know? | |

Distant African Nights

Those Distant African Nights...


1.


The shadows swayed in your candlelit room,

a cool breeze teasing your bare back,


streaks of lightning forked in the Johannesburg night,

as my hands stroked your hair,

kissing your soft mouth,

holding you,

ever so tight.



2.


You whispered that you loved me,

and I kept silent,


the rain fell, 
shadows danced,
thunder rolled,

the breeze teased your naked back,

you whispered that you loved me,
as my lips found yours,

the rain washed over our tender nights,


lightning and candlelight,

etching poems on your burnished skin,


yet,

a fear gnawed at me,

deep within.



3.


We parted ways,
and you could never forgive me, you said,


now, after numberless thunderstorms,

the rain that falls,


echo the countless tears that I have shed.



4.


You are long gone,

far away,

happy, I pray,


yet the memories persist,

those precious moments shall never, 
ever,

like the Jo'burg rains,
trickle away,

and I wish you well,
for loving me as you did,

for it was I who was not worthy,


then,


and it is I who is not worthy,


now...



5.


You were always true,


it was I who always,

always,

refused to,


to give myself,


completely to you.






Details | Free verse | |

In The Autumn of My Years

Memories linger melancholy as I approach the bridge to the Gardens de Sol. A picture forms in my weary mind; Just a mere shadowed mirage, like an old faded photograph in a heart shaped locket kept near my soul centre for days, weeks and decades…. while fall winds crooning blue zephyrs frigid, incantations upon the once verdant meadows where the fawns grazed and wild horses pranced so breezy carefree on fine spring days.... I whirled and twirled , a carefree dance on patches of clover and dandelions in the spring of my youth Reveling joie de vivre of sun Sol warming skin and soul pink I remember our long, meandering walks in a picture perfect rose garden scented with redolent pines and aromatic wild flowers we conversed for hours, my hand in yours thrilling at your every word infatuated by a fervent touch You, idly picking petals off a rose; the deep timbre of your delicious laugh resounding joy to my acquiescent ears as I cavorted playfully in the garden’s fountain until lengthening shadows quilted the path with reluctant to leave, sun beams of a late summer afternoon And afterwards, in twilight violet sky; intimate moments by a blazing fire, silent music of our hearts thrumming a lovers sonata while you kissed me; gold specked brown orbs, so pleasurable and beguiling, warming my soul full of tomorrows promise and forgotten yesterdays Now, as I picture this quixotic drama rehearsed again and again one solitary tear slowly trails down and comes to rest on lines that were not there yesterday….. Dead cornflake leaves crunch under my feet as I walk the very same bridged pathway to the garden alone my only audience a solitary prickly cactus in the autumn of my years.......


Details | Rhyme | |

cycles of love

my mark is fresh like snow in air
brisk and mist will crisp on hair
fists ball up from risk to care
whisper and stare but all is fair
love and reason, flow like seasons
the endings blending and quite seeming
parts of hearts, tho awake or dreaming
half is seeing, the other believing
eyes align and beats will sync
eyes a line for heat to sink
taken quickly for a fall
lovers stroll through memories' hall
echoes stir sight and scent
my senses flight keeps suspense
until logic teaches what it meant
all good things come to an end
summer lighting longer days
more hours to burn for lovers lay
precious tokens we hope to stay
from constant change or parting ways
spring into action to save those astray
a few more years can cost a pay
with lives and sacrifice displayed
perhaps tomorrow will be okay
years can fly like clouds in sky
feelings revealing what to decide
and just like that were back to try
to love the same until we die


Details | Free verse | |

Night Is Coming

Night is coming
Even though it already looks and feels of night
It isn't here yet
Gray veil covers the sky
Rain plays its sad tune
But pink flowers contrast green on Japanese Magnolia

Night is coming
Color blind person would not be able to see
The green leaves that are in contrast to the pink
Nor could they see the contrast between the white and green on the Bradford Pear

Night is coming 
Rain increases it rhythm, the grayness in the forest deepens
A heaviness weighs upon my body making it uncomfortable to breath
The rain washes the pollen away for right now

Night is coming 
Colorblindness would be a disadvantage for a person in many ways 
Some of the beauty of spring would be lost
But they would probably notice shape and design more than someone who sees color

Night is coming
When the darkness covers over me then I won't be able to see how to write
This would be a great disadvantage in accomplishing finishing this work
The yellow green or banana yellow yard light has come on it light radiates outward
In the distance a very large tree reaches upward skeletal but has few spring green 
tiny leaves that contrast the gray sky.
If I  were color blind I would not see that.


Details | Free verse | |

A Soul Awakened

They bloom as buds,
The young and expectant
bursting with the life of spring.
Winter-bones, stiff with frost, 
Unravel the icicle wire;
Release the spry exuberance of
Underground bulbs of self:
Heart, mind, chakra points--rise,
Rise to greet the thaw!


Details | Free verse | |

Renewal Begins Anew

Exploring the petals lent
from the bouquet of life spent
ever inhaling memories past scents
of yesterday’s requisite repent

Watering the flowers remaining
with the tenderness gained
from past events…
Kindness and compassion
fertilizing the still living blooms

Wisdom stems the drawing force
Empathy gained… the life source

Diving into the blossoms
of a new day, 
please join with me
and say you’ll stay
come out, come out
and let us now again play 
among the renewing flowerings
Let us join together again
among the tender buds
and scatter the petals
of yesterday’s 
in love’s forgiving winds
  
© Debra Squyres 02/23/14


Details | I do not know? | |

The Swaying of the Grass

1.

 

A path leads,

to where wild grass grows,

 

sashaying in the summer breeze.

 

2.

 

Along the path,
lightness settles within,

 

feeling the grass,
swooning,
tickling ankles,

 

swaying to the lilting bird-song,

in a dance of intimate abandon,

 

brushing the remnants of pain away.

 

3.

 

Melodies float across fields of green,

delicately caressing my heart,

 

teasing emptiness to flee,

comforting the mind,

 

to silently be.

 

4.

 

Walking on,
savouring the peace,

 

a momentary respite,
from the burdens of the now,

 

all is quiet,

 

a stillness cradling fractured emotions,

 

the grass in the fields sway,

 

dusk descends,

 

shadows lengthen,

 

nudging dimming light to take leave,

 

of the day


Details | Free verse | |

Thinking

I often wonder,
In those fragile moments between dream and waking,
If what I know of good,
And what I I know of evil are what creates the complexity that is me.
Do the two intertwine,
Compacted together so they form some semblance of normality?
Or if they are opposing forces,
Neither winning in a battle of dominance over my psyche.
The later of these two appears to be the case,
Because I'm always the same,
But so very different after each and every passing moment.
Peering inside myself,
I imagine that this is what I would see:

I can be shallow as a puddle,
Growing ever smaller under the summer sun.
Or deep as an ocean trench,
Teeming with mystery.
I can be childish as a girl on her first day of school,
At first too scared to let go of her mother,
And then off making friends with everyone nearby.
Or I can be wise as the old woman,
Seeing so much more of the world in seconds,
Knowing every secret at a glance.
I can be smooth and cold as marble,
Indifferent and never yielding.
Or rough as the bark of a sun bathed oak,
Showing all that I have openly.
I can be harsh as a blizzard,
Searing with my very touch.
Or gentle as a spring breeze,
Playfully whistling in your ear.
I can be sorrowful as a summer monsoon,
Raining torrents until no more will come forth,
Or cheering as a spring rain that leaves a rainbow in its wake.
Of devil or angel,
I choose neither.
Both deny themselves the freedom I hold so dear.
The ability to choose between kind or cruel,
Gentle or harsh,
Raging or comforting,
And most of all,
Between hate or love.
I am me,
No one else,
And all the warring elements that make me are the most ugly,
And beautiful things in the world.
All these and so much more are who I am,
Who I can be,
And what I long for myself to grow into.
But,
As all things must someday,
These thoughts drift away,
Lost once again inside me.
Fading as the night does once it reaches dawn,

For I am in that space between dream and waking no longer.

Instead,
I find myself seated in Biology,
With my teacher shooting daggers from her eyes,
Asking pointedly if my nap had been restful enough.
And I say how sorry I am,
Scrambling to answer her,
Working fervently until she turns away.
Then and only then,
I smile.,
For somewhere in between heart and mind,
All those things still exist.
Waiting until I can wonder again,
To find them in that space,
Both singular and vast.
 Ever searching for the thing that one calls a soul.


Details | Free verse | |

The Fallow Plough

There are those of us, as one,
who feel greatly the indescribable
feeling
as if to probe the caverns of our non-existence--
the us which cannot be and is not
except in the small hours, the infinity of moments,
stretching beyond our belittled sense with shut, weary eyes
and the inconstant shaping of faces behind the world.
The momentous certainty of one's own death,
we know,
tolls me back, not from sleep, or fugue, or transcendence,
but by sloping box springs. Where no transient rivers lay their beds,
no eglantine or honeysuckle dapple the wild thicket groves,
no fluorescent bulbs lead to the exhaustible sun,
no tender sprigs will spring in Spring or fall in Fall, but
here, where places do not exist as we do not,
we know.
I feel no thing, and here is where I love--
a most disembodied love that cannot die
for death like we is not--
and leaden-eyed among the alien corn each sordid day, I yearn
most deeply to feel you there
as I do not feel you, my love.


Details | Lyric | |

The Edge's Mill Inn

I came to rest 
At the Edge's Mill Inn
But that old smell missed
I just smelled again.

The longing quenched 
My surprise of you 
Then I knew
The old smell here

Was that old smell there 
In your home at Spring Ridge Farm
And the longing kept
Coming in waves.

So,  I went up to my bed 
In the Joseph Baugh room
Filled with seafaring things 
And a theme of sailor dreams
Where I arose at three
And stole the silken rose
Red from those 
In Gail's make-as-they-stay librarae.

Then swiftly like an old salt 
Raising the main sail I drove 
To Spring Ridge Farm 
In the night 
Where you slept 
Inside with that old smell
That I could not smell
And left that rose not living
Trapped in your front door

And drove back 
To the Edge's Mill Inn
To that old smell missed
I just smelled again.


Details | Sonnet | |

The Tritest Song


“Renewal…Easter,,,April love…rebirth”
Are easy, archetypal terms for when
Fresh shoots begin to green the thawing Earth
And fill with sweet clichés this poet’s pen.
At least I know what Spring is not—
The “cruelest” month’s not April, no,
In spite of Mister T. S. Elliot
Whose Spring and soul were both of snow.
But he was young.  Age brings surcease,
And Spring, forsythia and daffodils,
As flowered sonnets sprout, increase,
And decorate the rain-swelled rills.
Thus, in the landscape of my autumn brain
The hues of yellow and of green remain.
03-23-83 


Details | Rhyme | |

Rebirth

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


Details | Lyric | |

Seasons

Season’s


The defining  moments in my life, are like the seasons in me.
The season I was in, determined who I’d be.
Just when I started understanding it seemed the season turned.
The things that I lost became what I yearned.
In the spring time of my life I was foolish and young.
There seemed little consequence for all that I had done.
I hit the road running, never looking back.
Never seeing what I needed, only what I lacked.
So much around disappeared, then it all  was gone,
These became the moments for which I longed.
In the summer of my life, I basked out in the sun.
No responsibilities, my only interest fun.
The days were warm, full of light.
It seemed like the future was nowhere in sight. 
In the autumn of my life there seemed so much change.
Everything in my sights, seemed out of range. 
As the leaves began to fall I thought my life was turning.
Smoke just filled the air, from all the bridges burning.
No matter what I tried, I couldn’t save myself.
Only to awake, seeing someone else.
Then came the winter season, with the cold wind’s blow.
The seeds that I had planted, lie dormant in the snow.
The door slammed behind me, I couldn’t see where to go.
Things that I thought I knew, I didn’t really  know. 
The world outside was dying, but I wasn’t really trying……...
Now it seems that life has come full circle again.
A new beginning from the ashes of the end.
When I thought it may be over, spring time returned.
It carried the message of all that I had learned.
To truly love, you must set everything free.
Then you can realize all that you can be.
With eyes wide open, I finally can see.
That everything I needed was right in front of me.


Details | Verse | |

Meditations after Li Po /Kushih style

Meditations after Li Po


I
I follow in the footsteps 
of old poets of the past.
 As geese fly south in autumn.
 Instinct is my only guide.
 My attempts to emulate,
 may not bear such worthy fruit.
I can only do my best

II
The trees discard all their leaves
 and face winter nakedly.
I ask myself why this should be 
but I receive no reply.
Winter winds pass freely through
 the leafless twigs and branches.
Dead leaves return to the earth.

III
The trees stand as sentinels
 coated with white bitter frost
Bowing in submission
 to the power of the wind.
Better to bend than to break, 
the trees know instinctively
 the wind dies as spring returns.

IV

Only when the time is right 
the geese will return once more.
The trees will put forth new leaves, 
flowers spring up underfoot
The spring sunshine will inspire
Poets to take up their brush
 and ink: To write poetry.

21-Oct-07


Details | Rhyme | |

Window-pain

Windowpane with snow Opened in from here Frost has built up far too long This window must be cleared Penetrating chill sets Shaking in my skin Snuggled in my memories Still the cold seeps in I search for a warm body One to make me whole But the cold still lingers Chilled to the soul Weeping tears of blood My heart, it cries out Seeking another soul Can I live without? My pride flies south Words freeze in my mouth I am at a loss of life Ice-covered heart Don’t know where to start Maybe spring will bring new life Frozen crystal drops Still I sit alone Apart from you, Oh God My true heart is my own Upon a June will be a bloom A light through the dead of night Of your soul; this chill is just a hole From you; only you can heal A tangle of emotions I’ve cut myself apart I won’t play that game I will protect my heart Often prey to silence Caught in past remains The warmth within my body Has chilled in my veins Could spring be on the march? Is this rose sign? Be my rest ‘till light The color within my mind Yes, winter has its place To call what summer hides To take a look down deep Cold attracts a warm guide My breathing has slowed The color has returned Through your faithfulness My heart has been well earned Take me on your chest Sail with me this night Take me to your world To have warmth in the light


Details | Ballad | |

WHERE DO ALL THE BIRDS GO?

Where do all the birds go? 
Autumn brings rain 
The birds............ 
Gone again 
Before the winter snow 

Where do the birds go? 
Leaving me......... 
All alone.......... 
With a leafless tree 
Birds, flown 
Yet, not me 

Where did all the birds go? 
Quiet flurry of snow........ 
They gave no sign......... 
They didn't show...... 

To follow a sun...... 
The birds....... 
The Autumn rain........ 
Here again.......... 
The birds... 
gone.......... 
One by one 

Where do all the birds go? 
I do not know 
I have no wings, 
to follow........ 
I sit and wait for Spring 
The return of sound........ 
From the air 
Feathered things found........ 
I missed them so 

I do not have wings, 
to take me to the sun 
They left me.......... 
One by one 
My heart no longer sings 
I must wait.......... 
Until winter is done, 
and spring has begun 


Details | I do not know? | |

WHERE DO ALL THE BIRDS GO?

Where do all the birds go? 
Autumn brings rain 
The birds............ 
Gone again 
Before the winter snow 

Where do the birds go? 
Leaving me......... 
All alone.......... 
With a leafless tree 
Birds, flown 
Yet, not me 

Where did all the birds go? 
Quiet flurry of snow........ 
They gave no sign......... 
They didn't show...... 

To follow a sun...... 
The birds....... 
The Autumn rain........ 
Here again.......... 
The birds... 
gone.......... 
One by one 

Where do all the birds go? 
I do not know 
I have no wings, 
to follow........ 
I sit and wait for Spring 
The return of sound........ 
From the air 
Feathered things found........ 
I missed them so 

I do not have wings, 
to take me to the sun 
They left me.......... 
One by one 
My heart no longer sings 
I must wait.......... 
Until winter is done, 
and spring has begun