The light breaks free from winter’s bone
to cast its warmth; to life atone,
to warm the dark; to thaw the chill,
to synthesize through chlorophyll,
a dormant seed to resurrect,
and coax a soul from introspect.
Awake! And breathe the wafting spice
of lilac buds and wild rice,
the lavender; the orange puccoon,
the sweet of honeysuckle bloom.
An overture, the sparrows sing,
to celebrate the oeuvre of spring;
while wind and weeping willow dance
to promises of new romance.
Come alive! Draw in your breath,
let winter die a noble death.
The seeds of yesterday are strewn;
it does not do to weep and croon.
If you seek, so shall you find,
as true for darkness as divine.
Copyright © Thvia Stein
The mist swirls through the deep vale
shifting slowly and giving glimpses
of the lush vegetation and flowers.
Slowly it dissipates in dawn's sunlight.
Teasing as it lazily drifts
showing for a brief second
a colourful bank rife with flowers.
Then blankets it from sight.
As the day warms up
it appears to thicken
then yield oh so slowly.
Wisps of mist now fading.
Before our eyes lies
Nature's riches displayed
a wealth of orange and yellow.
Pinks, purples and blues vie
each more beautiful
and lavish green trees
gently shade the saplings.
The Treasure of Nature's Canvas
is now stretched out before us
while the birds happily sing
as they rush to build their nests.
Insects buzz with joy as they collect
the pollen and nectar from flowers.
In this new spring day
life itself is reaffirmed.
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton
Pops of pink, sprays of white,
your canopy of petals shimmering with delight.
Blossoms that glow at night and fall all day,
catching the light in the most visceral way.
Sprays of new life and branches anew,
fragrant with joy and possibilities in the morning dew.
Every Spring we await your bloom,
Cherry Blossom Tree you are Spring's magical costume.
Copyright © B Marie Furcron
How my heart longs for spring
with its warm light breezes.
To see the wonders of young buds
slowly unfurling bringing colour.
The promise of new birth all around,
baa of new born lambs as they skip
through the green lush pastures.
Chasing after each other gleefully.
The happy songs of birds gathering
up wool and twigs to refurbish nests
Some already sitting patiently on eggs
their mate bringing fat worms and goodies.
The longer lighter nights hold promise
of the hot summer that is soon to come.
Spring flowers adorn woods, fields and hedges
and gentle splash of pastel colour fills gardens.
Until Spring gently takes over from Winter
I will dream on wrapped up in woolly fleece.
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton
Through a fluttering veil of luscious hues,
Fair Lady coquets with the majestic Sun,
As the wicked Wind caresses her tender cheek,
The harshness of Winter all undone.
Sparrows perched upon the towering trees,
Whistle sweetly at the colorful array.
Fair Lady hums and sways in warm ecstasy,
As the wicked Wind drifts away.
The sinful Sun glows after a wearying day,
And spans its gaze upon the fields of fruit.
Fair Lady drowsy, lies upon the prickly grass;
The darkness envelops as all goes mute.
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry
In this passage of time
I long for the month of my birth
a real child of the spring am I
born on the Vernal Equinox
I come fully alive in spring
The sights and sounds of spring
do hold me in enthral
the beauty of each emerging bud
and oh to enjoy the warmth of sun
The busy work of nesting birds
the joyful songs they do emit
filling the world with wonder
as busily they feed their chicks
The carpets of the spring flowers
strewn here and there at random
gallant bluebells wave their trumpets
while stately daffodils bow their heads
All these bring such joy and lightness
to this weary old soul of mine
giving me the kick I need
to put away the winter blues
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton
Fair Spring, a lady, palely loitering,
Whose brow is decked with flowers and with dew,
Whose bosom births youth’s essence which does bring
Unto the barren glades, a glory, new,
Where have you been for every heart had pinéd without you?
Where have you been, when winter with its shroud
Had wrapped the world with thorns of frost and snow,
And when the strength of Cheimon’s hoary cloud
Had swallowed worlds and bound from head to toe
Each aging tree, and froze the rivers which once, swift, did flow?
Fair spring, I’ve grieved and skulked in mortal grief,
And wept for endless days. I craved your breath
To make once lively every faded leaf,
And save the sprightly buds from early death,
And blossom effervescent flowers from the earth, beneath.
And birth sweet fruits, ripe with rich, temp’rate blood,
And kiss the earth’s wan cheek and ever store
With ripeness every stalk and shoot and bud
And with pure sweetness every apple’s core,
And turn to foaming bubbles and bright verdure, winter’s hoar.
The spirits of the worms all beam with pride,
And all the swift-heeled elk run round the leas,
And mid the blossoms, nightingales hide,
And sing a tune that gently, long the breeze,
Wafts through and through: an ode to you, your beauty, ne’er to cease.
Oh, spring, at last, I bear a mighty beam
For seeing your first budded rays, which bring
Upon the glades, gold wealth and honeyed dream.
At last, the winter fled upon his wing
In fright of all your powers, for you came, at last, fair spring!
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov
Copyright © Gleb Zavlanov
Swift bee, the gilded messenger of bliss,
Begirt with golden stars of Heaven’s span,
What draws you to the clover’s gentle kiss?
Sweet nectars, that the strongest drinker can
Carouse with dreams and dizzy waves of sleep,
Or mocks the freshest breath of summer’s clime?
Swift bee, a flame-plumed star of black and gold,
Why do you with your mouth, completely reap
The liquors that each golden bud does hold,
And lulls with somnolence the might of time?
Oh, bee, you spread the tufted pollen clouds
Like nebulae of opal stars crossways
The delicate, soft digitalis crowds,
Which passionately garner sunbeam rays
Within their coral shells. I can’t express
How much your toil’s worth to coming spring,
And how so passioned glide your wings around
The purple, gentle harebell’s loosened dress,
And make, through pretty hums, spring’s hopeful sound
Oft too profaned by your most fearsome sting!
Oh, pretty hummer! Hearty worker! Bee!
I see you roaming round the garden’s bend,
Where sweet, white daisies wreathe a canopy,
And make you but a hearty, cheerful friend.
Swift bee, the aching, swollen heart of mine
Desires comfort where pain knows no ruth
The buds hold, like rich garners golden grain,
Ambrosia of the gods, dream’s honeyed wine
So bring and let dear bee, such moisture stain
My lips and warm my heart with spring’s bright youth!
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov
Copyright © Gleb Zavlanov
Peering through plate glass at a puzzling view,
In the midst of hot coffee’s morning ritual brew.
Staring out with amazement and wonderfully struck,
By our Cherry Tree’s overnight sensation run amuck!
By nature’s own standard, cruel joke she has played,
Million blossoms wide open one February day.
This juvenile sapling knows not what it feels,
Sprouting vivid Pink colors, the show it now steals.
From those all around laying dormant in state,
Expecting nature’s cue to blossom their own petals awake.
And by then poor young cherry will have muted her splash,
Replaced by green leaves summer storms will soon thrash.
But alas all this splendor making warm visual sense,
In the short time required for fresh java to dispense.
Tomorrow I’ll once again observe through plate glass,
The wonders waiting just beyond cold winter’s Rye Grass.
Submitted to Giorgio A. V. Contest themed: Impress me with a small poem II!
1) user name: wedge
2) choice of motif: nature
Copyright © Michael Wegman
Snowy white grounds fade with the sun
Time to go out and find all the fun
The playground is busy with everyone out
The flowers all pretty are starting to sprout
I hear the bells ringing and run to my mom
She hands me the money, she is…the bomb
I stand in the line waiting my turn
The sun is strong and I’m starting to burn
Sponge Bob, Dora, Choco Taco and more
I settle for a King Cone, it’s what I adore
It drips down my arm and onto the floor
Lick it up quick, maybe I can get more.
I finished it all, now the truck has gone
Maybe tomorrow, time to move on.
Copyright © Cheryl Sheridan
(Ode to the Crocus)
Before the bud appears
to trumpet winter's end,
before the robin comes
to bob-head for his worm,
before my heart rebounds
from razor's keening edge;
I walk the hidden path
of garden's withered past,
in search of one who dares
ignore the blizzard's blast
and peek her cheeky nose
up through a snowy nest,
to wink her shining eye,
at me, as I pass by.
Her flame, within itself,
ignites a tiny spark
of joy inside my heart,
on which I now embark.
Published LifeWay Press Magazine,
Mature Living, March, 2010
Copyright © Cona Adams
Few hearts now weep to see you go
O cold harsh naked winter
The last icy tremor of your merciless winds
Fizzling through the choked air
Leaves it's thinning threads in
The oncoming fairyland of Spring.
Winter have you gone, answer me?
A refreshing winter you have been
But how we have longed for your departure
Away away and bury yourself, O harsh east wind
Go now, your season is over
Snatch off your furred coating
And bid welcome -
To a bursting singing Spring.
Welcome, welcome, first lady of creation
Your sweet scented grass sheds tears of dew
Tears of elation, as morning peeps.
As foetal clouds now bathe us
In your new re-birth
Winter threads it's skeleton hand
With it's new love Spring
And with it a new energy is born.
Greenery buds with purity and freshness
The orange canopy floods us with her mirth
While the swelling sun in giant splendour
Can no longer conceal
The first flush of Spring.
The world is awakened by it's mighty arrival
The dance of the daffodils is about to begin.
Copyright © Deirdre Omaidin
SHE glides with grace, like one in love
with love itself and all that’s lush;
and when the mythic sprites above
unloose her from the morning's blush,
she descends like the milk-white dove
with the notes of a singing thrush.
With golden locks, as light as air,
and liquid, limpid eyes most blue,
none is like her or can compare
to her beauty and lovely hue
which lift the humble souls that dare
come to her for her balmy dew.
As wind and air Nymph and a muse
with the nimbused crest of a saint
which no man can therefore refuse
or with mean words tarnish or taint,--
then let all Creatures freely choose
to honor her without constraint.
1.) Ngoc Nguyen; 2.) Nature motif; 3.) for "Impress me II ! ( Old/New )" Contest
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen
The telephone rang, I answered cheerily
When the niceties were over, the voice inquired
"How is it going with the gardening today" quite sincerely
I could not refrain and out of exuberance, desired
to extol the virtues and due attribute to the joy that Spring is bringing.
The Birds are chirping away
gleefully abound at their playing
rejoicing the rebirth of Spring today
and now have more hours to bask in the sun
That's the glory and joy that Spring is bringing.
The Winter's gloom of body and mind is now done
the Trees and Shrubs, in the breeze can't restrain their greeting,
The Peaches are busy Peaches-sing
the Figs are Figging away
and the Apricots are buckling in their blooming.
The Guava's graciously budding and Guava-ing the whole year
as with the Parsley's and Celery's luscious greenery,
The Paw-paw's are Paw-pawing, the Avocado-pear
so generous in their giving, through-out the whole year,
It's amazing, all the joy that Spring has sprung.
The Quince's are heavily wincing
the Mango's are flowering and ready to Mango-ing
the Banana's are Banana-ing
and the Plum's, purplish in their Plum-ming
so too are the Tamarillos heavy in Tree-tomato-ing
While the white and mauve blossoms
of the Yesterday Today and Tomorrow's, soften's
the most perturbed mind with their heady aromatic scent
and the Jasmines exudes a fragrance extraordinary,
As with the Clivia's in saffron pride, glistening in sun-lit dew.
What an awesome, wondrous sight
to see Mother-nature's beauteous, creative delight
blending so, with the Omnipotent Creator's panoramic scene
Set so, that we the Immortal Mortal care-takers bear in mind
that His Garden and the giving Spring, is of the sharing Kind.
Copyright © Christopher Stopford
So happy I am for the Birds and the Bees,
who rustle and bumble all for our ease.
Nestled so sweetly in their nectar and honey,
no my dear, it is not for the money.
They garden the flowers and live in the trees,
so happy I am for the buzzing of bees.
As my head lay heavy on this pillow,
my ears perk to the chirping of robins outside my window.
I am gleeful as I listen to their joyous hymn
that I begin to hum along on a whim.
The dawn chorus was most superb that day,
if work didn’t beckon me, I wouldn’t have whisked away.
Beautiful blossoms capture my stare,
iris here, lily there, hydrangea’s everywhere.
When I ask who shepherds them, easily they reply
“the bumble bees nearby, often do supply
pollen with their feet, ‘tis really quite so neat!”
Copyright © Veronica Andemariam
Spring Sun brings hope again
And fresh green grass reveals life innocence
Blessful peace saturates my soul
Copyright © Olga Snitkova
communication from above the air
random as it doesnt compare
the meet of peoples taste
so many exceptions, unknown where it leads
but a friend can call on formiddible times
can suprize and place you up there
on that higher ground
where we all belong
they can be the calling we need
the lift that stands
the love we crave
we all meet at random places
or odd situations
we have the best times
the moments we never forget
the memories we look back years later
and just smile
thankful we had the time
and wish we had all over
again and again
always repeat those days
the real deep and meaningfuls
for what time we may have these tresured lives
that we share
may not be for long
but id never let go of those times
they made me who i am
the path i walked on
i might not see them all the time
but i do think about them
how i smile from to ear to ear
money cant buy that
no one can replace that
so with age comes being wise.. at times
and its those days that we had
makes life abit easier to live
they keep us going
and we never forgot them
Copyright © Aaron Wilson
Shamefully dull, life would be,
Without seasons to nourish me.
Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall,
Nature’s blessings the nourish us all
Apathetic and harsh, winter is,
With arctic gales that pierce
Every linen shielding my frame.
Anomalous flakes of snow drift from the sky
As sheets of white accumulate on the ground
And weigh down the healthiest trees,
Teasing those ready for winter festivities.
Once the snow angels and snowmen are made, and
Once the sledding and snowball fights are done,
Into their warm homes, all will run,
Hiding under hoards of fleece
Until it’s time for spring to come free.
Pleasant and lively, spring is,
With liber rains falling lavishly
On soil beds of assorted seeds,
Nursed diligently by the avid gardeners
Who thirst for the sight of the first blossoms
Of poppies, roses, lilies, and tulips.
Blueberries, cherries, and strawberries
Entice the onlookers waiting to pick
The ripest harvest in a timely manner
And savoring them until summer can flare.
Fierce and fervent, summer is
With a feverish breath, that makes rain a treasure.
People gather in masses to absorb the bodies of water
As a radiant sun desiccates the land.
Outdoors, pitchers of lemonade are carried everywhere
And thriving honeysuckle sweeten the air.
Yellow lights of fireflies flicker through the night
As exhausted bodies relax beneath the stars,
Gazing in admiration, until autumn can appear
Calm and homely, autumn is
Wither green, red, and yellow foliage taking over.
Crisp leaves bustle about the ground,
Trapped by flurries of whirring winds
Until they are raked into heaps for children to dive in
And pumpkins growing in preparation to carved or baked.
Families huddle together around brilliant fires
While couples stroll through parks, taking delight in the landscape,
And having picnics until winter’s brisk rise.
Copyright © macy southern
What's go great about New Orleans, Louisiana, is that of its jazz music and its voodoo culture. The city has been known as "The Big Easy" since the 1800s. It seems that all of the tourists from across the United States have considered New Orleans their favorite vacation spot. There's always a Mardi Gras every day, we've got people throwing beads at each other, jazz musicians playing their instruments (the saxophones, trumpets, etc.), and people dress in costumes every single day. But what's so great about New Orleans, Louisiana, most of all is that when spring breakers come to the city for spring break, even when they're still going to college. Everybody knows that the Big Easy is also known for its Cajun cooking, especially when the chefs are known for making a lot of jambalaya, gumbo, and a lot of Cajun foods. And what's so great about New Orleans, Louisiana, is when MTV was there, especially when the MTV network executives had been recording episodes of "The Real World:" one back in 2000, the other was back in 2010. New Orleans, Louisiana, is the strongest city in America, even though it was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina back in August 2005. But the famous street best known by New Orleans, Louisiana, most of all is the French Quarter and and one of New Orleans' favorite landmarks is the St. Louis Cathedral. And the New Orleans Arena and the Louisiana Superdome are home to the New Orleans Hornets (NBA-National Basketball Association) and the New Orleans Saints (NFL-National football League). Even the late Louis Armstrong was from the city. Well, I hope to go to New Orleans, Louisiana, one day. And if the City of New Orleans were to stay on the map for a long time, it's going to be like a Mardi Gras on a Saturday night and Fat Tuesday in the afternoon.
Copyright © Brashard Bursey
I love farmland in spring
and new beginnings
and winning in extra innings.
I love a fat lady singing;
barbecues, chilling, grilling;
no curfews, imported brews;
a lime or two beautiful women;
swimming in ocean michigan.
with fire flies flying by;
whiskey bottle by my side;
sitting, sipping, simply wishing
summertime would continue.
But autumn's harvest wont be far off
and winter blowing in is looking grim.
Copyright © oldcrow poet
An ode to spring
In quaint quintain
The birds all sing
Their sweet refrain
The winter cold is on the wane
An ode to spring
In quaint quintain
And on the wing
Here comes the rain
And all the world is clean again
This ode to spring
In quaint quintain
Is bound to bring
The lover’s swain
All along the lovers’ lane
Written for the contest English Quintain for a spring day
Copyright © mike dailey
shadow of the greyblue stairs
heading up to who knows where
jaws of a shark on the litter bone night wall
crazy to my right the lifeless painting
hangs speaking to no one
but the devils grass leaning
against the heavenly window
saintly church bell shadows
feelin like crooked tom thumb on the run
fighting with giants singin with bums
achin to the bone sometimes numb
miracle train she runs and runs
Copyright © michael amitin
Someone told me today I should write about spring
The promise of new life and the peace that it brings
I stand by the window and the birds start to sing
Thank you God it felt like a prayer on a wing.
Flowers pop up to receive rays from the sun
The beauty they bring not knowing what they've done
The blossoms open up it makes me feel so alive
They made it through winter and continue to thrive.
The birds build nests to continue the renewal of life
Pain melts with the sun and with it goes the strife
Soon they will have many mouths to feed
It's all very simple first you plant the seed.
Life just resonates without making a sound
While the leaves return, the green grass to the ground
Then there is love and what my heart's has found
Winter has departed and the days of light are abound.
Hope arrives not a moment too late
It's hand in hand coming down the aisle with fate
I awake this day with the promise of tomorrow
The spring sun has melted all of the sorrow...
Copyright © Mark Russell