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Spring Adventure Poems | Spring Poems About Adventure

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

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Details | Narrative | |


Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    

Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...

After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "

Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  

My theme is: Happiness In Childhood

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Rhyme | |

Went Fishin'

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

Details | Sonnet | |

Legs Are My Wings

At some point, my legs begin to converse                
of time spent on the trail, rest now needed,             
For like a horse's labors exceeded,                     
the strength mere food and water can't traverse        
Beyond exhaustion, repose will reverse               
Thus respite, backpack set down and relieved          
of duties, containing my home achieved,
until such time as rested legs endorse                 
my return to trails, and onward I go;                              
Traveling far Appalachia’s way,                                     
witness to wonders and all living things,                      
in far towns and altitude, well below,                             
where nature’s flora and colors bouquet;                          
To motivate legs that have become wings.

Written: April 25, 2014
for Craig Cornish's Miltonic Sonnet Contest

Copyright © Michael Wegman

Details | Sonnet | |

Megan's Hit

        MEGAN'S HIT
There on the deck, I took a practice swing
tormented in the possiblity--
then hope was dashed--I found no hope to bring
up to the plate, when Ump cried out, "Strike 3!"
I was the last to bat--in this last game--
just oh for three, my record said it all!
And in the dugout, faces all the same,
the looks of gloom! Just waiting for my fall!
I took my place, right up there to the plate.
Out on the mound, the picher grinned at me--
as if he hoped to make my swinging late,
or throw me one--I couldn't even see!
    He'd walked a batter, waiting on first base,
    to tie the score, if we'd get in the race!


"No girl can hit!" I heard the catcher call,
and echoed from the bleachers was the same,
we made our stands, the umpire cried "Play ball!"
and then I vowed to get us in the game!
I gripped the bat, the windup came too fast!
As did the ball, but where it should have been!
"Strike one!" the umpire yelled at last--
The fastest ball that I have ever seen!
"She'll never swing!" the catchers words for me--
then threw the ball out to the pichers hand!
While out on first, my runner waits to see
if I can swing, or only make a stand!
   Right in my face--the picher scouled a bit--
   while I choked up--and readied for a hit!

All set to hit--I made it then my dream!
and came the ball--I could not swing at that!
"Strike twoooo!" the umpire made it scream,
then said to me, "You've got to swing the bat!"
The bat it weighed a hundred pounds or so;
"She'll never swing," the pichers eyes did say,
With that he gave his very best, I know!
I glued my eyes--as it screamed straight my way!
I never saw the hitting of the ball!
but won't forget the cracking sound of it!
Nor know again the feeling of it all
of this my very most important hit!
   The sound it made--that ev'ryone could hear--
   a batters dream--but pichers' greatest fear!


The ball soared hard and high past second base!
then seemed to drop so slowly from above,
as quick as I could get us in the race,
I watched it bounce right off the fielders glove!
The tying run was just ahead of me!
Ole "Never-Steal" now ran like not before!
And right behind, fast as my feet could be 
I gave my best! And then I gave some more!
The crowd gave out the seasons wildest plea!
As I yelled to the runner just ahead,
with all the grit that I could find in me,
"I'm going in! And if you stop--you're dead!"
   Ole "Never Steal" was giving all he could
   and on his heels--I made my promise good!


We saw the ball come by as rounding third!
Not once a hesitation in it all--
and as the umpire watched without a word--
he swept his arms, to make the tying call!
The score was tied--third baseman set to throw--
now ready at home plate, the catcher stood--
and through it all--my only thought was GO!
but if I did--I'd have to make it good!
I knew the ball was thrown down to home plate!
The catcher poised, and glued where he should be!
I had to slide, and heard the ball hit late!
"She's SAFE! She's SAFE!" my Daddy yelled to me! 
    Now layed to rest--our coaches greatest fear--
    the only game we won--throughout the year!
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa

Details | Rhyme | |

Spring Is Here

Oh! the wonderful time of Spring is here.
Can you smell the flowers in the air?
The leaves are green and flowers in bloom
yellows and gold and lavender too.

The birds sing a lullaby and whisper stories
of days gone by. Love and laughter is the best
medicine they say, so bring on the sunshine
and in our garden, lets play.

Harmony colored butterflies sway into the wind
they cast off and away through the days end. 
Catch one dear Ma would say, it will bring luck
on a rainy day. 

Apples and oranges round they go
handful of love and laughter will grow.
Spring is the time of all that's new,
come and see me and I'll share it
with you.

Copyright © Sharon Gulley

Details | Light Poetry | |


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.

Contest: Show Me The Funny

Copyright © Carol Eastman

Details | Ballad | |

Spring Breeze

The trees are awaken by the soft blowing spring breeze, they are stretching their branches out as to welcome us back, the birds gently land as they start to serenade them with their beautiful songs.

The Spring Breeze blows gently as we step walk in natures bliss, we too are stretching our arms to take a deep cleansing breath, we have been hibernating deep in our cocoons that kept us warm and snug, now we must unfold ourselves and let our beauty be seen, as like a butterfly we too must take flight.

The ducks, seagulls, fly overhead, sharing their stories as we listen to them squawk, flying in unison in a flying V. Wherever are their journey has taken them, only they know. 

The Spring Breeze blows harder this time, I know this is my sign, that summer is coming, and the clear blue skies will paint its own tapestry for us to enjoy, all together again, in Minnesota style with smiles, laughter, and natures special way.

Copyright © Jennifer Donnay

Details | Free verse | |

The Green River

She slips from the sleeping ice.
Green, fresh, free to flow
through the great fjord.
Past the blue mountains.

She glides smoothly
over the rocks with glee,
covering them with her cool touch.
Tall evergreens cheer her on.
Waving as she courses down her chosen path,
carrying life. 

All the while never tiring!
Surging forward to join the others like her.
This vast journey ,
will not end till she reaches
The Great Shores.

Her journey is joyful.
Touching all on her banks,
leaving the gift of life in her wake.

Copyright © Gypsyof Essence

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.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Free verse | |

Last Sonnet

Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.

Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.

Suyash Saxena 
St. Stephen’s College.

Copyright © Suyash Saxena

Details | Free verse | |


Where are you my sweet spring time,
I’m heart sink waiting for thee, oh beloved
Of all the seasons, thou ‘art my favorite,
For yours is the very breathe of life itself,
The Mystic Rose grows within your warmth,
Nourished by the gentle breezes that you
Bring forth, a tender blossom of sacred beauty,
A timeless wild flower of single elegance.
It sleeps this brilliant Tiffany bulb, curled up
Tightly within its raw soil bedding dreaming,
Oh thee, oh sweet springtime, but frozen
She remains in a status freeze, waiting for
A soft whispering from nature
She comes be at the ready, child of the sun.
Beneath winters icy chill, lays fields of dreaming
Blossoms, here the verities of the pallet array
Dips into the rainbows stratospheres, melting
Within the earth below, to create the beautiful
Bouquet that spring will draw forth.
Nay the white hands of winter, smack harshly
Against my window panes of sorrow,
Yet within my heart is hope of the tomorrow,
And the glorious joy to come, with the on set
Of the promises of spring.
The burning logs of holiday cheer have lost
Their romantic luster, the sleds sharp blades
Are placed aside, it’s just too cold outside for
Laughter’s enchantment to take hold.
The shovels of white diamonds fields that
Once glistened so magically now remain
Dual and tarnished, just a chores aimless
Task of back aching pain to be done.
I’m waiting for the breathless color burst,
To feel the warmth of the sun against my
White skin of palest ivory, and to hear the
Street children at play once more, outside
My prison door.
For here I’m still looking out my window,
At a wintery wonderland of ice and snow,
Waiting for the spring, tired and weary of
The splendor of white lace, and snowflakes.
Where are you my sweet spring time,
I’m heart sink waiting for thee, oh beloved
Of all the seasons, thou ‘art my favorite,
For yours is the very breathe of life itself,
The Mystic Rose grows within your warmth,
Nourished by the gentle breezes that you
Bring forth, a tender blossom of sacred beauty,
A timeless wild flower of single elegance.

Dedicated and inspired by My Sister Poet Mystic Rose

Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Rhyme | |

Henry the Hedgehog

On a lovely sunny morn
Henry the lonely hedgehog
Awoke with sun as it reached dawn
As he heard some croaking frogs
With birds a chirping everywhere
And the frogs making their din
Henry, looking here and there
He gave a sleepy grin

He'd woke up from hibernation
All set for a brand new season
Looking forward to a new adventure
His waking gave him reason
To say 'hello' to all around
He felt real good today
He has a chat on the muddy ground
Then he went upon his way

As he strolled along the path
He saw old Polly Parrot
Old Polly he did make him laugh
He was chewing on a carrot
It's not the fool that parrots eat
But that's how Polly is
They both were happy so to meet
And spent their day in bliss

Copyright © Vera Duggan

Details | I do not know? | |

The Chalice of Courage pt3

“You walked many miles,
Climbed this mountain
To confront me,
A dragon with the reputation
Of being fierce!
All to possess a so called
Chalice of Courge.
By doing all that you have done
You proved that you already possess
The courage you seek.”

The dragon smiled once more
As he saw understanding 
Washed over Leonid’s face,
But soon followed sadness
And disappointment.

“Do not ever regret this journey.
This journey was not to acquire a chalice,
This journey was to unblock
The spring of courage
That resides in you,”
Said the dragon.

“This spring will never grow dry
Unlike this chalice.
This spring is natural
And there will never be any side effects,
And one day, this spring
Will become a strong river.”
These words made Leonid stand a bit taller.

As it had turned dark,
The dragon allowed Leonid
To stay the night
As the journey down
Would be dangerous in the dark.

The dragon and the young man
Talked most of the night
And it was quite late
When they both fell asleep.

The next day,
After they said their good byes,
And as Leonid was about to leave the cave,
He turned back to the dragon.

“Dragon, even though
I could not drink from the chalice,
May I, at least, see in it?”
Asked Leonid, timidly.

Understanding how curiosity
Can gnaw at a person’s soul,
The dragon tipped the chalice
Low enough for Leonid to see in it.

The Chalice of Courage 
Was empty.

“Sometimes, we need something
To aim for,
For us to take the journey
We need to take,
Even if that something
Is nothing at all,”
The dragon said.

Leonid nodded and left the cave.
He made his way down
The mountain safely
And when asked,
He said he had drunk
From the Chalice of Courage.

Leonid had gone on
To becoming a great warrior,
And only to those closest to him,
He would tell the true story
Of The Chalice of Courage.

Copyright © Kimolisa Mings

Details | Light Poetry | |

As I rise this day

As I rise this day,

thoughts of you go through my mind.

I thank you for another day,

I pray I can do things your way.

The winter is in full bloom Lord,

the chill in the air today is cutting

through the trees,

The branches are crisp and the sky is cloudy,

I pray the day is warmed by your touch,

Lord,I love you so much.

The day is beginning now,

help me to live a life today

that glorifys thy name.

Written by:©Betty Bolden

Copyright © Betty Bolden

Details | Free verse | |

These Mornings

Maple and Cherry Oak
deciduous delight;
a new wardrobe.

Another marriage; 
violent waterways 
racing traffic.

Cremation of
fallen family
lingers onward.

sweet scent--
Lavender & Lilacs.

Desiring exactly
what we despise
as dreams drown.

Twenty branches above 
percussion solos begin
between wings while

lead singers gather on
electrical tightropes
of music notation.

Trade-winds whisper
as the ocean above
remains motionless.

Until next
December my
dear winter.

Copyright © Samuel Marlatt lll

Details | Free verse | |

Melody In Spring

            Melody In Spring

Penelope runs full force with speed between the daffodils
Bright yellow dust collecting on her purple dress
Green residue from grass form on her shoes
Red faced in open suns embrace she races to the woods
Lights flicker off and on between the shadows of the branches
Running fast, silk laces in her hair, flying, dodging the very air   
Kaleidoscopic strobe lights in effect
Provided by the day and natures wonders
Sun light dancing up above through swaying trees
with kisses and love between the blinking leaves
Penelope is the wonder found in nature
She is melody unfolding lovely on the run
Thrills open up in spring, blossoms on her smile
Colored flowers sing

Copyright © Earl Schumacker

Details | Free verse | |

The Garden

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 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,
Warm nights,
Difficult frights,
Ecstatic times and unsystematic times!

But they mean nothing to me,
While I’m alone…

Walk with me through this garden.

Copyright © John Paluszek

Details | Free verse | |

Spring summer

~ Where should I start this poetic trace? ~

Supple summer, season scene
Takes off coats and welcome warmth
And tranquil under soften sky.

Spring 'O' Spring precedence over summer...
Summer host long light evenings,
Carol patterns and seldom pit-a-pat.

Fertile season, holder of juicy jubilee
Easter burners' night, palm Sunday pedestrian...
And good Friday chorus.

March-to-October, love you so much.

~ Hope I am not missing out? ~ 


Dedicated to the lover of the above poetic summer season.

Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole

Details | Light Poetry | |

A Silent Wave

A silent wave rushing inside my heart

Your hand leading me so far we won't depart

Your voice I heard in away that's taking me far

Into a silent wave rushing inside my heart.

Oh the thrill it was to hear

your voice so silent as I opened up to you

so wonderful this silent wave rushing inside my heart

I was searching for a answer to a question for so long

there it was a silent wave rushing inside my heart

Your voice Lord, in ways I never found

a silent whisper so very loud

inside my heart the silent wave replied

to me your love is so divine..

So when the shattered dreams are filling your mind

please please listen to the silent wave rushing inside your heart.

Written by:©Betty Bolden

Copyright © Betty Bolden

Details | Free verse | |

Treacle Melts

        Treacle Melts

Sail on sugar in the sweets
On winds of chocolate powder
And candy on the smack of lips

Kisses in secret caramel places heard
Over miles of creamy icing roads
Lift up my savory love

Whose fragrance is of pink and dreams
Of treacle melting on the tongue
And stories of flying fudge ships

Told in confectionery verse
By hungry children eating mints
Tales fill the air once more

Of fruit flavors sailing on 
And off the tongues of young ones
With hints of magic and fresh breaths

Copyright © Earl Schumacker

Details | Ode | |

New Orleans, Louisiana: aka The Big Easy

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

Details | Lay | |


Sabien, Sr. gathers his weapons to join his son. In his quest to depart knowledge, he must be the wise one. His son heard him speak that Sabien, II was the Unicorn in the Warlock’s Garden. Sabien, II slept silently amongst the flowers and the trees. Thus far, he had not been transmuted. His father promises his faith. He would change him into a much grandeur state. As the night became day, Sabien, Sr. finds all the herbs that will be needed for transmogrification. He begins to fulfill his promise. He will sup with the Unicorn. At eleven-thirty a.m., Sabien, Sr. beacons for the Unicorn who was patiently waiting under his favorite tree. He responded by entering the Warlock’s Vicinity. The feast started at noon with drink, meats, breads, berries, and so much more. The Unicorn spoke to his father. He was not aware of his metamorphosis. He had transformed to his human image, which is Sabien Allegra Baldwin, II. The splendor of glory shows his father to be a powerful Warlock. Magnificent are both in their opulence. Sabien, Sr. speaks and proclaims his son as the next Warlock. Sabien, II recognizes himself as a young man. He stands and accepts his position as the Warlock’s Apprentice. They embraced militantly and voiced their creed… Our spirits must be with the heavens and terrain. Our focus is terrestrial. This is our garden that we must protect. A superfluous and superlative existence we have. Sabien, Sr. speaks, “The revelation of your crossing, Sabien, II, is superb. You came, as I knew you would.” __________________________________| PENNED JULY 15, 2014. (For the first part, please read the Unicorn in the Warlock's Garden!)

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

Details | Couplet | |


The sun touches me and the cold leaves from within.
I smell the good clean earth beneath my feet again.
The ground isn’t frozen. It feels so fertile once more.
The wind kisses my skin with warmth I want to store.
It’s still very chilly around here late at night.
But the beauty of the sun has begun to be just right.
I see the tips of new growth, springing up everywhere.
At last I leave my winter lair, for I have much to prepare.
A shower is coming tomorrow. I must hurry to set my plants.
But first I must rake the old leaves, left from winter’s rants.
My dogs stay close beside me to sniff the new tilled earth.
Even the smallest animals, rejoice in spring’s rebirth.
The images that beseech me as I leave this old house…
Are young, fresh, and with their colors I’ll soon be doused.
As the heavens begin to open and again bless this land…
My mind opens to see, the touch of God’s own hand.

Copyright © Carol Eastman

Details | Free verse | |


A playful brant swam on the pollen-dabbed lake.

A dipper perched on a dog-wood tree so dazzling and aromatic,
he neither decided to stay nor go although his companions were gone;
he had a white head and gray wings feeling a bit too romantic...
seeking through green branches a lonely warbler hidden in a cosy place,
and there he hoped to confide his dreams while he turned artistic.

A restless bittens
searched the tall, sun-dried reeds 
of a river not so calm...
did she find some food like bluegill,
not to make her stomach growl?
She kept on searching 'till dusk!

A tawhee snoozed on the smallest spruce...
waiting for the evening to fall. 

Written by Andrew Crisci
for Constance La France's contest,
" For ( Four ) Beautiful Birds "
May 12, 2011

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Free verse | |

First Spring Eulogy

They flocked into town.
Loud, Pushy, Laughing
They left their Tropics
To celebrate the Great Fest,
Banqueted by Instinct.
Mashing and gulping sour
Red and Purple bits,
Juice dribbling sticky 
Down their Breasts,
They stumble about,
From one hung over bar,
Each drink Drives them
                                       Farther until,
They drunkenly Crash to their Deaths
In the Windows we use 
To View Them.

Copyright © Rain Dubilewski

Details | Rhyme | |

Spring Down Under

One thing you Northern Hemisphere people should remember:
Our first day of spring comes in September.
To the summer, you friends are saying goodbye.
Our winter season is passing us by.
So if you would like to be adventurous and bold,
and you want to avoid your winter’s cold,
spend September through March down under with us.
We will show you a time that is fabulous.

Copyright © Robert Pettit

Details | Blank verse | |

In the woodland

Echoes were sung beneath the leaves of every tree,
Like chimes that dance and blend with the wind,
Glowing spring flowers comforted me with their scent,
Taking my visions in their gleaming skin.

Fireflies surround me, and warms my cheeks,
Leading me to leap into their wings,which lift.
Now I have much freedom to fly so high,
Beside the crimson moon, beaming in the sky.

Sparkling embers, bewitch my eyes,
Wanting to reach them, and kiss with my heart,
Those fireflies softly plunge me, in a gem with silk,
I saw a beautiful fairy, and she gave me a wish.

June 25,2013

Copyright © Jelina Rhian

Details | Abecedarian | |

A Spring Abecedarian


Architecture – the point at which a dome rises from its support
Bounce in one’s step common to infatuation
Cricket term – one of a set of rubber strips on a bat handle
Door lock that will only open with a key
Elasticity, needed in many toys and tools
Fountainhead or source of inspiration
Growth and renewal time for plants
Hunting term - to rouse from  cover
Instance of water leaking, as from pipes 
Jump up and down as on a trampoline
Keys that are used to tighten clockworks
Loose from its anchor, usually by accident
Mechanical term - stored, potential energy
Nautical term - a mooring line amid two ships
Origin of water bubbling from the ground
Payment treating someone to a meal
Quickness to one's steps when late for a meeting
Release from imprisonment or confinement
Season between winter and summer
Tension released causing objects to move
Unexpected occurrence sometimes upwards
Vernal, relating to the spring equinox
Warped or bent out of shape as a ship’s wooden mast
Xanthous, the color of spring flowers, crocus, daffodils, forsythia
Yo-yo up and down or sideways from a coiled string
Zoology - a group of teal ducks

Copyright © Reason A. Poteet

Details | Free verse | |

It's About NotFracking Time

A 1952 vintage Connecticut dormered Cape Cod
painted stark bleached white
with slick jet-black shutters,
hyperbolizing a deep racial minority
well, issue really,
in my mind of similar vintage
and incarnational permaculture,
conceived in bold ripe August,
born in bullish economy of May.


So, I painted her.
Wrapped my arms
and rolled around her
in turquoise sea,
and sky blue,
with rain-cloud grey trim,
so she might be less afraid
and so might I.

Born into late millennial Yang,
reconnecting and reweaving with each other
during trans-millennial now,
how will we transform our economic options
to full diversity and springtime
polycultures of May?

We grow transformed,
reframed to coincidentally cooperate our octaves of color
and sound
feeling and mind
Yin and Yang,
concavely conceived,
convexly displaying economic ecological
principles of mindfulness as coincidental noticing,
advent of winter's grateful hibernation,
enthymematically aptic communication
inducing measured calculations back through RNA-regenerating
origin of living systems.

Deductive Left-brained dominance need not apply for comprehension,
balanced by summer's yangish nutritional bullish market,
hope of fruitful outcomed spring,
then summer's faithful following
of full polyculturing
permacultured information root system
formating strings and tendrils
cooperatively absorbing nutrient Spring's and sprouts consumption,
to produce within life-sustainably proportional karmic response
to yang/yin coincidental rich deep ecologically efficient,
and inclusively effective for full speciating diversity,
nutrient cooperative economics,
that might actually be logical,
because they are ecological.

These, harvested permaculturally optimized
positive analogical and ecological,
digital and atomic,
temporal and spatial,
linear dynamic Open Set Universe String


Polynomial Closed Set Prime Relationship
neural frequency and flow,
balanced bicameral logos-logic:
P=NP because
Left-brained information language
thermodynamically balanced with 3 spatial dimensions
covering 1  equivalent temporal-linear dimension
Commons Economic Balance Assumption
(0) Core Vector [B. Fuller and Euler] =
(+) e-function =
+space/(-)(-)time =
space-time-squared =
+1 magnetic balanced QBit quark-function


(-)(0) QBit.


So, all that going on,
more or less,
in our dominant Left hemisphere newer speciated DNA-brain,
AND Right-brained non-linguistic and non-polynomial
intuitive intelligence codes memory dipolar and
coincidentally confluent
(harmoniously proportional flow/frequency neural pattern recognition)
(0) Core Vortex =
(-)(-) [not-polynomial dipolar stricture--implicate order] (D. Bohm)

putting all that mess together,
more or less confluently and permaculturally,
+Polynomial-Yang =
(-)(-)Yin (-1 QBit) Nonpolynomial
intuitive temporal-linear-neural balanced
Optimized Information Permacultured String.

now that my home and I are parting ways,
I'm finally noticing that even my friends and family
don't particularly care for our change of color
and culture.
It's still kind of a hard sell,
this more colorful permaculture
of community
and economy,
and identity,
and design.

Must be time for adventurous reincarnating revolutions
or we will remain merely ahead of our own non-polynomial ending time.

Time opens space's liturgical rite of passage.
Space coincidentally reincarnates time's
4 equivalent ecological dimensioned order.
Positrons incarnate,
inform negative-linear
4-dimensional equivalent dipolar time.

There is no such thing as non-polynomial time or space
or informatiion,
other than negative binomial time
(implicate ordered Right-brain reverse synchronic-aptic coded).
+P (+1QBit) = (-)(-)P =
+/(-)0 Core binary e-function
Prime Core Electromagnetic Balancing Binary-Binomial QBit.

Spring springs polyculture economics
composting through dark and winterish minds and forms and functions,
still looking for greatest inclusive nutrient yield
without suffering dissonantly wilting loss,
cooperatively flying our regenerative kites
co-id/eco-entity tied with time's river of flowing
informating memory strings.

I know,
you were wondering when
I would finally conclude
with the sex part.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

Details | Rhyme | |


They were given to me,
to use abundantly and wisely...
when I smell the spring roses
redder than blood, or whiter than snow:
everyone should see how I these eyes glow
while their fragrance becomes my indulgence.

These are the gifts for all to enjoy,
how can one not appreciate them as I do?
And whenever they inspire, I indite their beauty
so inexpressible and unable to subdue
with lovely glances that induce a feeling of awe and delight...
have you ever felt this by walking past gardens before twilight? 

Touch them as curiosity makes you ponder and surrender,
see unhappy larks fly skyward to seek a new adventure,
follow them and wish you had their swift wings...
to find those places only imagined in night dreams;
much more you can have by using every sense,
waste none of them...value them and show reverence.  

Even when they are cut from their thorny stems,
and will be offered to sweethearts and friends who show loyalty...
how beautiful they will be in those caring hands!
Pick some of them: smell their aroma...isn't it as strong as it can be?
I've walked with you down a path from Spring to Fall,
showing you how to revive your senses and be glad to have them all.

Copyright © Andrew Crisci