One nail goes in my barren wall, to bring the spring alive
I can almost hear the birds that greet, in morning's gold sunrise
There is a garden, now, within my palm, and dew within my eyes
The fog lifts high, and drifts away, and clouds within the sky
While butterflies, and bumble bees, bring color, oh, so grand
Addressing spring, caressing things, a rainbow in my hands.
A glimpse, as if through windowpanes, I'll fall in love anew
Enchanting me with roses, red, in bloom around my head
They welcome me to a cottage old, to cheer me from my blues
The world is painted softly, gold, in shades of pastel hues
From nature is a vast array, of color, painted, thus
I wish to hold the magic long, to frame, to keep, ... to last
Inspired by "Springtime By Monet" For Ekphrasis Contest Sponsored By Rick Parise
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
Well, finally one lucky man may realize
That nothing in the world could equalize
Thy poetry, except the magic season
Which for the poet, has other reason.
I have a date with adorable Mrs Spring.
So excited, I think I tell her everything:
How much I love her splendid eyes
Of magic green, that all verdure cries
Every morning, to borrow from hers.
In dream, I kiss the naked shoulders,
I stroke that incredible hair green,
And so I know this beauty's queen:
All her body is a charming thrill
Of larks as singing on the silky hill.
Then, the horizon as her sweet round hip
In playful wish to have a happy good trip,
It is the time when sun is ready to wake up.
A toi ! Like Joe Dassin I take the noble cup.
Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2016
Wind howling at my window.
I shiver and pull on my duvet slack.
Night greets me as I go to work and back.
Then proceed to light all sources of heat.
Engage in knitting in my fireside seat.
Retreated to warmth of cosy cottage.
Surprise at tender buds in garden.
Peel off all those extra layers.
Return of sunshine thanks to prayers.
Invigorating walks on country lanes.
Noting daffodils and crocus again.
Grateful that Spring is in the air.
Copyright © JEAN MURRAY | Year Posted 2016
There is an orgy of fruit above our heads
Delectable sweetness falls unto our beds
We shall devour the sweetness so ripe and pure
Angels so bright with amorous decor
Intercourse woven upon the forest floors,
Lustfully we be bedridden
Satisfying our wanton souls in the village of Sidon
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
As spring departs
In the wind and rain
Copyright © Uwe Stroh | Year Posted 2014
A walk in the park
Lovers hand in hand
Strolling along the promenade
Smelling the sweet scent of red roses all around
As I sit here all alone
On a park bench
Beside the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on
If only I was not so shy
I would have told her so
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014
There are four seasons in a year. Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter. In the Spring time, you can enjoy the outdoors and go for a walk. And look at the trees turning beautiful colors, you can also enjoy raking the leaves into a big pile and jump into them. We also know the New Year is coming with Winter. Winter is a cold month with snow, now the children can play outside in the snow. And everyone else can enjoy the snow also.
Copyright © Frances Roberts | Year Posted 2013
The butterfly went to a party last night all through the evening. It was the drunken butterfly and he saw all different butterflies through the night at the party. Both of them were drunk in front of the butterfly that evening. He woke up the next morning and he didn't remember who gave him drinks. It was different butterflies passing for everyone at the party. His friend found out that there was another butterfly drunk that evening. After that night, one was over and he began to face it with. One of the drunk butterfly at that evening. When he went up to all the butterfly were drunk at the party. Then that night, he went home to get straight from that night all day. Then he looked back to the party to find out who gave him drinks that evening.
Copyright © Frances Roberts | Year Posted 2013
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
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013
Play The Radio
Get Up And Dance All Night Long
Music Heals The Soul
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
He was born under a dreamy dancing star
On a beautiful spring night
And he left his heart's door ajar
For he never forgot that sight
He saw hatred, pain and scorn
And wished he wasn't born
He saw anger,sorrow,greed
And wanted another planet indeed
But then he smiled and said YES
To the spring sky,love and tenderness
Then he thought:I want to live
I want to forget and forgive
He said:Good night angels of death, good bye
You'll always be in my mind's eye,
Parting is such a sweet sorrow
But poetry, sun and rainbow are my tomorrow
Copyright © Vesna Kovrlija | Year Posted 2012
Rivers joyfully flow
Roses again bloom
Spring visits again!
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2013
A shade of yellow, paint with blue
Blemishes the canvass, all in crude
Creativity in the lazy sky
Dulled in myriad etches drawn
Fields of hope now ascending
God given blessings bestowed
Heaven's a bliss to behold
In the artist's loving hand
Jaded with clues after clues
Keen on its every detail
Life time's own redemption
Memoirs upon the final touch
Nature's guise to reach heights
Oils and pastels combined
Portrait hung with grace
Quite breezing one's mind
Racing deep to the bosom
Sunflowers waving its mother sun
Thistles whispering sweet goodbyes
Utopia on the majestic moon
Wonders of an impressive grade, like
Xylophones synced in harmony
Yesterday's today an understatement
Zephyr stirred within every stroke.
Copyright © Jeffrey dela Cruz | Year Posted 2015
This poem is dry/
Free from liquid tongues/
It cries out loud as the misty words blown reflects winter/
Hearts cold /
This poem is mine/
Re-read it after a while/
The message turns warmer in time/
You are told/
It carries old expressive survivors who died in the future/
Marry words that lose leaves but surviving the bitter cold season/
Words that bought blankets for them lyrical branches/
This poem is sweet/
Dry poems have rights to be pleased/
This poem is sweet/
Rhymes shelter on the sentence's rooftop before engagement parties/
Cut and paste scissors blur the vision/
Not true expression/
Bees group hug in mud of resurrected angels to echo this poem/
Echo this poem/
Spread the word in this cold world/
We will all get warm/
Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2013
pink spiral stitches
macramed umbrella gilds
shrine to fertile spring
Copyright © Stephen Parker | Year Posted 2013
The morning greets me with birds at my window
They peck at the glass,
they chirp and harass,
"The sun is up, the grass smells clean!
The flowers so pretty they must be seen!"
I pull the covers back up to my chin,
the cold cotton pillow feels good on my skin.
But the longer I lie here the more I realize,
the coffee is calling; I really must rise.
With eyes barely open, I saunter about.
The kitty is purring and happy as trout.
My shepherds come running, their tails wagging fast.
They want to go outside, and go running past.
I open the door and nearly knocked over,
They run off the deck and into the clover.
I walk to the table,
all dressed with pink roses,
waiting for barking, and kissed by wet noses.
I smell the aroma of Colombian beans,
my percolator singing, while I get on my jeans.
I'm feeling quite artful,
the day has begun.
The birds are still chirping,
the yard in full sun.
The coffee tastes great, and as I sit here,
the birds at my window, the cat in the chair,
there's one place that's calling, with north light galore,
just past the den, where Big Bear will snore.
My studio corner, my wonderful place,
where dreams are realized, and canvas to face.
The day has begun
It's a spring morning
-Mary Susan Vaughn
Copyright © Mary Susan Vaughn | Year Posted 2016
Suns ember through the tree.
Chakras blooming for spring.
Copyright © Dayneissa Byrd | Year Posted 2013
everything is new
hope springs forth anew
joy for all abound
Copyright © Malcolm Dyer | Year Posted 2009
Flower opens in the sun
A world is reborn
Copyright © Fred Cleaveland | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
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,
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.
My wings unclipped, unshackled, free,
I am, and though I am unable to see,
At long last,
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
I spy, a feather beauty bright
With speckled blush on breast
Basking within the thicket light
Dancing round about her tiny branch
Your fluttering sight beholding
Within the snowy briar
Bathing among the warmth
Of the morning's golden glory
Its brilliance your own crown of halo
Like a sunburst that swallows
Up the end of February's sigh
As other feathers flusters zoom right by
The ginger little fellows all dappled, scramble
A merry-go-round within a flight
Threading joyous song throughout your bramble
As further flocks of scurry, hurry fly
On parade teasing wings of faerie sprites
A musical path of crisscross kites
But, you little one are the daring, bursting forth
With higher operatic songs, to startle and scold those spry
Feather beauty bravely
Upon your perch chest thrust out boldly
Nonsense rhymes and a new found might
Chase away the imps of finch and thrush
And keep yourself the sunbeams for its light
And bask yourself once more this time
Among the drops of melting dripping snow
And gather up all tis full
Feasting here, where the wild wild berries grow
But, in the end you are their kin
And soon, my fairy feathered friend you too must go
Out, onto twittering leafy stemmy stem and off...
Into the yonder of the coming spring to rove
Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2013
time in time on time
second by second over high noon
our spring to spring of moon
Copyright © Milan Georges Burovac | Year Posted 2014
Bright blue skies on a spring day
Fulfills my horizon
Blue birds and robins pass me by
Mountain, trees, and animals
Priase God Abroad
The frsh air bring forth calmness
A quiet serene a waits my soul
Red orange and violets
Represents God's glory
Flowers slowly rise with the sun
And water crickets sings songs of glory
Fresh water arises with the scent
Of of sweet savory of God's spices
Beach rolls in the lazy tide
I sit back and enjoy it all
The art of spring is glorification
Of all tings God created
He's the world famous artist
Copyright © Angela Wilson | Year Posted 2012
Early I came alive this spring morning,
Shorter was last night, I realize
Gone were those hours of darkness
It’s time for the novice to arise
Looked on the nature with panoramic view
Spread was the greenery around,
In the palms of picturesque mist
The season of spring could be found
Rambled alone along the street,
Vacant was the boulevard
The silence of human kind,
Invoked in me a fanatical bard
Impaled by a ray of sun,
The universe was set to brighten
And in the universe of me,
Was set the soul to lighten
Copyright © Neha Godambe | Year Posted 2012
Birds scatter in the air
as they head back to their nests
Rivers begin to create
beautiful circular waves
The smell of rain
fills the air once more,
as droplets of rain come
down to embrace the ground
The jungle is alive again
in the endless rhythm created
by raindrops and the earth
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2014
~Weather thy senses anew.
Bring now an enticed breathe.
I lavish in cherry blossom blooms.
Hills of bleeding hearts vow such sensual sweetness.
Speak thou soft field.
Corral Bells flourish in sun kissed light.
The wind carries orchid petals through my unobtainable fingers.
In thus,such a glorious day brushed by a natural love.
Shall my visions of gilded yarrow emerge.~
for the Where Have All The Flowers Gone poetry contest~
Copyright © Kacey Greenlee | Year Posted 2012
IF JESUS ASKS
Dew on the grass
Wants to disappear
As a day wakes up
Frightened by the red eyes of sun.
Again all those men
Will remain tireless
For some more hours.
Sharp arrows from their mind
Distance on the earth,
Boundary of the of universe,
Pride of stars being alone,
Even the game fate plays.
But today’s day is tired.
That green tree
Standing naked in a landscape
Sunbath during winter,
Play with wind on stormy days,
A born again make up
As spring bade good bye,
Or get drenched in rain
Like a farmer’s son.
Old days have enjoyed them all.
That green tree
No more there,
City’s claw has removed,
Roots of its existence.
Is it only that lonely tree
Has been killed by city life!
Did not you see the tears of ocean!
Like a beloved lady
Wanted to wipe out
All weariness of humankind.
And in exchange
Modern life poisoned her heart
With all its senselessness.
When the day,
Wants to hide her face,
Men are still preying,
What else is remaining?
What else is faraway?
When daylight disappears,
Now penguin’s blood is our subject matter.
Or if this world becomes a bomb in fire
Then we shall hire
Our extraterritorial neighbor
To settle us in space shuttle,
Above the earth atmosphere.
So, the day unwilling to wake up any more.
Only the red eye of sun wakes her up.
Remember how morning birds
Use to sing melodies,
To wake her up.
All that resonance is missing,
As dew fell from leaves to leaves.
Glorious smile of shining water drops
On a lotus leaf
Cry alone now.
Misses how pleasant was twilight’s tune.
In today’s day
Who is there has time for them all.
But every year
There are seminars
Those entire glorious chapters
Sun, moon, even heaven is not too far.
And many more
All are in the memory of a computer.
But today’s day
Redeye of sun wakes her up.
Are men no more sacred now!
May be like polluted water,
As sacred from holy Ganga river.
So one day,
Jesus asks to the heart of mankind,
You have achieved so much,
Your glorious days are here,
Then why you still keep me crucified!
For how many centuries
Shall I remain!
Human child knows age-old answer
‘Its your greatness
To remain there,
So we worship!’
Only red eyes of sun
Wakes another day up.
A day -
No dew falling on her lap.
A poem by GOUTAM HAZRA
Copyright © Goutam Hazra | Year Posted 2013
Forever young, poised on the leaping edge of time,
the child essence that lives within,
age-creased the outer casing
where, paper thin, the skin grows old
and withers like spent leaves before the wind;
constantly renewed the inner stream of lightning grace,
fresh flowing from the all wise Father's life granting hand,
an exuberant miracle captured
in so small a vessel as the timorously beating human heart.
Thus inspiration comes, lightning quick, alive, forever new,
to prick imagination's wine skin, releasing a spring of creativity,
a birth, a miracle itself, a joint act with God,
the great giver of all gifts.
© September 17, 2015
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2015
Leaves are soaking wet
from the ice that is thawing.The Sun is slowly
waking up from its hibernation. Snow flakes
are vanishing one by one; after spring's visit, umbrellas,
raincoats, and lovers kissing in the rain,
has made snowflakes to seem as though their existence
is a fairytale.
The ground that was once filled with ice, like icing put
on a cake, now is green with life,
with some rainbow colors from birds, butterflies, and flowers.
From a bird's eye-view, the land looks
like an explosion of a big bang of color.
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2015
With colors of the rainbow
Nature's choir sings
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
Copyright © Robb A. Kopp | Year Posted 2010