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Spring Dream Poems | Spring Poems About Dream

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

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Details | Abecedarian | |

In A Grownup's Dream

Apple blossoms flutter in the breeze.  Awakening,
Barefoot to the brook we go, brightly scampering,
Counting caterpillars discovered on our way -
Daffodil and daisy picking this delightful day.

Enjoying the earth’s rebirth, revitalized are we!
Free, like foals we frolic through the fields with energy.
Green surrounds us; onto grass gratefully we fall.
Happy to have found this heaven, on a hill we sprawl.

Invigorated by our rest, in a little while,
Joyously we jump right up; we only have a mile. . .
Knowing  we are getting close, faster now we run,
Leaping over lilies lying lush beneath the sun.

Myriads of other meadow flowers now appear.
Nature’s hidden splendor is getting very near.
Over by an old oak tree, it’s coming into view!
Picture perfect, it presents a pure and pleasant hue.

Quickly we approach it, without a single qualm.
Refreshingly it beckons us; our romp disturbs its calm.
Suddenly we’re splashing , and later we will seek
Tadpoles that are teeming in this, our secret creek.

Until the sun has disappeared in the April sky,
Vibrant crimson will have spilled through clouds. We say goodbye
With great reluctance to our brook, which has been for us
Xanadu!  But now the warmth of home awaits us. Thus. . . 

Youthful frolicking is finished. We have left the stream.
Zestful romps I may revisit in a grownup’s dream.

Written 2/21/15 for the spring theme
 Abecedarian Poetry Contest of Shadow Hamilton


Details | Free verse | |

Spring's Sweet Reality

She wanders to a dream, a place Where weeping willows brush her face Beneath the branches bending low She's walking where a garden grows Grass gently sways, as cool as glass And timid blows the warming breeze, That fetches shining hair with ease With wisps of gold, which fly astray, Like meadow flowers, in yellow maize A melody of larks, that sing Of promised spring....of pastel things An amber sun, a basking glow, Who ambles by and whispers low Of meadows green and rainbows too How much she longs to bask again To warm a face so pale of skin But then, once more the threat of chill Upon a cheek, a breath of ice And snowflakes land upon on her lash They startle cold, like morning ash, A northern wind that stings her eyes A thief will snatch her scarf away, And thus her dream has gone astray And once again her dream has died Yet distantly, there lies in wait, A springtime place, a promised fate A path beneath the willow tree, Where sun peeks through the velvet haze Where flowers bloom and meadows grow, And larks sing lovely lullabies The earth will wake, to be a dream A dream with sweet reality
____________________________________________________________ For Francine's Contest: "Winter Begone" 1/23/12


Details | Ode | |

Spring Dreams

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.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hunting for Spring

We’re so tired, of winter’s, snow and ice,
For too long, we have been, within our house, winter’s price.
Why won’t you come, to visit us, and sing?
Where we’ll be touched, by your sun, so heartily, beaming.
Oh where! Oh where! Are you, our sweet Spring?
We need you, so very longingly!

We saw you peak out, for just one day.
Then you quickly, and suddenly, ran so very far away.
So we did a Rain Dance, and danced in the cold.
Without your shinning brightness, all we got, was cold snow!
Oh where! Oh where! Did you go, our sweet Spring?
Why did you run, so very far, with your blessing!

We sought the Groundhog, that he ask you, to come back.
But he was burrowed, deep beneath, all the snow, and ice pack.
He wouldn’t open his door, as we knocked, true and hard.
He refused, to even come out, as he denied the pleas, of this bard!
Oh where! Oh where! Are you, our precious, sweet Spring?
We beseech thee, to please come back, to me!

The trees want to bloom; their sprouts are ready, to collect.
Our hearts are there beside them, under this winter, and it’s effects.
We’ll sit here, dreaming of the beauty, only you can affect.
We’re hopeful, can’t wait, but now at March’s mercy, and redirect.
Oh where! Oh where! Did you go, our sweet Spring?
Our hearts and souls want to be warmed by thee!

What? Dragon and I see you! We rejoice my friend!
Our hearts, like the trees, are beginning, to warm again.
The snow is leaving; all is greening, before our eyes.
We beg you, to please stay here, solidly, close by our side.
Oh where! Oh where! Did you go, our sweet Spring?
At last! It doesn’t matter! We have you back, and all that you bring!

Written for my good Friend Jack Ellison.


Details | Villanelle | |

Dreaming Of Spring

Dreaming Of Spring

Myth is the breath of memory
Fables of spring's awakening
Things are watching we cannot see

Here in the garden’s  treasury
The magic of spring is hastening
Myth is the breath of memory

Colors  to spark a rainbow’s envy 
Every meadow and glade adorning
Things are watching we cannot see

Flowers  dancing in reverie
Bluebirds and butterflies on the wing 
Myth is the breath of memory

Spring is  transforming dormancy
Now as days  are brightening
Things are watching we cannot see

Painting  a picture of harmony
At last a result for all our dreaming
Myth is the breath of memory
Things are watching we cannot see

Suzanne Delaney



Details | Verse | |

We Dream And Wait


                              Sweet dreams can be made of honey
                                   Do you dream about honey
                                          it can mean wealth
                                   Do you dream of marmalade
                                         it can mean disease
                                       Do you dream of syrup
                                  it can mean pleasant surprises
                                    Do you dream of dandelions
                                it can mean happiness and spring
                                    Are you dreaming of spring
                                 .... it will come, it is on the way





30.03.2013
A-L  Andresen :)


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 | Imagism | |

Bring on Spring

I am cold to my bones
The winter this year unsettled me
Freezing snow went on too long
Aging stiff thoughts 
Overpowered my normal optimism
I dream of buds bursting with life
I dream of swallows making their journey
I anticipate the energy of spring
These thoughts warm me.


Details | Verse | |

The Tree and I

The Tree and I 

I met a tree today while walking under cloud ridden skies.  She was a young oak past her sapling age.  Her bare branches, still in winters hold, stood stark against an evergreen backdrop.  I felt her loneliness seep into my being, so I slipped over and gave her a hug.  I whispered to her, “I know lonely too”, and heard an audible sigh within her wind swept branches.

a young oak
stands bare in winter's keeping---
brown carpeted ground


After a length of time, undetermined, I slid to the ground and leaned against her trunk.  I was content to keep her company for a short time on such a dreary day. Nowhere else did I need to be.  No one else did I need to see. So, I leaned my head gently against her rough bark and as we both shared a quiet moment of contemplations. 

a woman sits
at the base of a tree---
cloud laden sky

Eventually I felt the cold and damp seeping into my skin and I shivered. The young oak felt this and spoke to the breeze in her highest limbs. She asked it to blow the clouds from the face of the sun so that we could both enjoy the warm rays… and so it was that we were both sun kissed on this early morning day. 

clouds drift
away from the sun---
a girl smiles

This soon became a daily ritual, loneliness drifting away with each visit. She listened to me, as I listened to her, and time flew more quickly by.  Spring arrived before we knew it as the young oak beamed with her new buds. It seemed our visits now became less lonely, filled as we were with the awakening of Mother Earth. 

new buds
on a young oak---
birds singing

I shared with her and her with me, throughout the winter’s days. We laughed together and wept together during the longest of lackluster days.  A friendship formed of kindred spirits that helped chase the blues away.  With spring’s awakening, our confidence gaining, we rejoice in the birth of each new day.    

green grass
returns to the lawn---
daffodils bloom



All Rights Reserved @ Debra Squyres 2013
Form:  haibun  (mixture of prose and haiku)


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 | I do not know? | |

BACKSTREETS OF PARIS - Monsieur L'Vampyre

BACKSTREETS OF PARIS -  MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE
One spring and sunny day I set my sight
behind my darkened lenses, feigning night,
so I might stroll in my own way
and see what's life in light of day,
my thread put to my back, I travelled light;

when Paris comes to all its greenery,
there's not a sight that means so much to me
as flowers holding to the hair
of Mademoiselles out ev'rywhere,
and laughing children, that's how life should be.

The beat of Paris leads a steady pace
and if you stop, you're holding up the race
there's not enough time in a day
to walk all of Champs Elysees
and so you miss the smile of ev'ry face.

But there are places few would care to go
with streets so narrow, darkness is the glow,
where yesterday's not in the past,
but here and now, and here to last,
with cobble stones laid many years ago;

a world of silence, far from natures care,
a place of echoes, snapping here to there;
the signs of life flow past your feet
and to the Seine, just down the street,
but leaves its scent, it's with you ev'rywhere.

This is a time, more than a place to be,
the soul of Paris few can ever see,
the very secrets of her heart,
where light of Paris had its start,
and left here for the very likes of me.

You hear her whisper in the mid of day,
or you might hear a concertina play,
but all that's Paris surely lies
right here for you before your eyes,
and it's the dream Parisians want to stay.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet


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.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Moment of Hope The Invisible Man 30

Sometimes I have the courage to think of the things that made me what I am today,
My memory takes me back to terrible things far away far off into my bitter past,
My mind like a maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste, loss and disgust,
The losses, the drink ripped away, not happy until it was all gone respect as well.

Invisible thinks of a garden where roses clustered with lilies scent on the breeze,
Bees found stores of honey in the petals of a thousand and one different flowers,
Lovers walked hand in hand along its winding path a beautiful dream of the man,
Bright with the embroidery of nature where children played in new myrtle flowers,

As Invisible thinks of this garden it is neglected but flowers can grow with weeds,
It could put a smile upon his face, a face that had never known any joy recently,
He hopes a gardener can covert this garden get rid of ruined waste, back into Eden,
Tending all the beautiful flowers that spring up with the weeds and smell gladness.

If he helped the gardener in his quest a hand might hold his and guide him through,
Maybe a hand would go around his waist to support him as well as guide his hand,
Dare he wish that the guiding hand and the support would be his angel from heaven,
A dear person to help him clear his garden and walk down the winding path as lovers.

An angel that would smile at him maybe hold his hand and squeeze it so very gently,
Would the angel talk to him and tell him that one day they would be together again,
Her beautiful grace shining warmly as she looks up to him, to her he is her hero,
Not a drunken mess that cannot cope, not a dirty vagrant, but her knight her love.

The tenderness of this beautiful scene in his poisoned mind became real he smiled,
He grinned as she sat down next to him as close a she could get then wriggled closer,
Warmth from her body not only warmed him but gave hope this what he has waited for,
She whispered sweetly she loved him and would be waiting for him and they kissed.

Invisible woke with a start and was she not by his side, was she ever with him,
A dream another heart wrenching let down and how could he have dreamed the dream,
It was so real he still felt the warmth, the impression of her hand holding his,
But it must have been a dream his own mind conspired to deliver the hardest blow.


Lost in a grief so deep, his loneliness complete he talks to Sam his imaginary friend.

These days get worse Sam they really do please help me,
I need to change but I need my drink more what can I do,
But I need to change so desperately Sam can you help?
My world has cracked and I've fallen into the crack,
But what I don't understand Sam that I was once good,
If I had any courage Sam I would be laying in my coffin,
Why does life drag you along with it I don't want to go,
Just a bit of icing on my cake Sam it is freezing cold,
Did you know this is where I was brought up my friend,
Did you know that most of the people that walk past I knew,
Sam! I know many of there people but they don't know me,
Why do they all walk past I wish somebody would help,
Maybe when I have drunk more cider I might feel better Sam,
I can remember being happy but not what being happy is like,

As Invisible sits drinking shoppers give him a wide berth and they look at him with hate.

These people Sam they look at me as if I have hurt them,
The people they are not our sort of people they hate me,
Has the world changed like I have but in opposite ways,
My life is full of sorrow drunkenness and dreams Sam,
Old sorrows wont go away new sorrows should take over,
So we have to face both the old and the new that's bad,
At night I try to close my drunken eyes it all returns,
Sam is that the same as you can you close your eyes,
Can you remember the valleys Sam the ones we used to play,
When we ran about all day Sam in the sun rolling in grass,
The old stream that twisted and turned, it had lost its way,
Floating lolly sticks watching them bounce away on ripples,
Buying bangers in November and throwing them into the water,
What I wouldn't do to go back for just a couple of hours Sam,
Just to feel the innocence and try to bring it back to now,
To enjoy what there is to enjoy and maybe get better Sam,
But that will never happen Sam we are lost on an island,
A well populated island but an island all the same Sam,
People are not like ships they don't bother to rescue people,
They just walk around or just walk away all the nice ones gone,
I remember my school Sam it's now been knocked down and left,
It has all gone, all gone no primroses in spring or bluebells,
Do you remember Sam the bluebells used to nod in the wind,
But they have all been built on, whats the use in talking,
Nothing changes from bad to good Sam remember that, eh Sam,

Still drinking his cider tears well into his eyes his nose runs and begins to quietly
to sob. He sits on the shopping parade seat, shaking as he sobs. His throat has a lump
in it so he stops talking to Sam. Invisible sinks his wet face into his overcoat
hides his misery from the people that walk past he just sat there lost and confused. His
greatest sadness an angel paid a visit to the maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste,
loss and disgust,


Details | Rhyme | |

Spring Dream

The winter has everything in icy grip
It’s Monday and rain with snow will drip
In the port stationed is every ship
There is no going out on the sea at polar vortexes’ tip

But I dream of spring
Where nightingale will sing
Where iris and marigold color everything
Where sun joy will bring

The icy grip of winter caught my soul
Now it is cold and black like coal
Reminiscing the time when it grew without control
Like flowers and buds in spring and I wish to reclaim this joyful soul

The abstract with last fundamental place for spirit is food
I like to draw being with head like dunkleosteus looking good
Body like a cheetah it being larger as is understood
In his mouth however blood red rose dream instead of food

Fury it represents contrasts with delicate flower
Creature from depths of time with incredible power
But the rose so delicate also has power
It is intricate like abstract dream the soul and there lies its power

Spring brings to fruition  
That which is raven’s mission
To bring wisdom beyond all abstract true only to its definition
To find wisdom like that is for my troubled spirit only beacon


Details | Haiku | |

Dream Season

spring dream
a rooster stirs the stillness
into dawn
 
calmness . . .
jogging into
the spring dawn
 
hot spring bath –
the nibbling fish
tingle my skin
 
waterfall
I photograph
its mist of spring
 
train pane mist
she rubs on
the other side
 
spring rain
the scent of green in
the dawn breeze
 
february full moon
the beach tides deepen
the voice of children
 
spring moon
the scent of jasmine
spreading in the night


Details | Tanka | |

flowers fill my dreams

 

this springtime desire
oh this forever sighing
the snow falls and falls

          bird songs and long forest walks
          and wild flowers fill my dreams


_________________________________
March 22, 2015


Tanka


Submitted to the contest, Tanka 3, sponsor, Andrea Dietrich

Third Place


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? | |

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 | 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 | Haiku | |

I Dream of Spring

Spring air fills my lungs 
But the blizzard's remaining
Dreams are deceiving


Details | Rhyme | |

Just a Touch of Spring Fever

I decided to become an eccentric
Appear a little bit off
Maybe a little ill
With a little bit of a cough
Keep a little distant
A little bit alone
Sort of like a hermit
Disconnect the phone
Do just what I want
Just what I like
Do a little drawing
Take a little hike
Sleep in the garden
Frolic with the bees
Wade in the brook
Maybe talk to the trees
When the alarm for work I hear
I know as an eccentric I have failed
If I do not pay my bills
I could be sued and jailed
That's a little more eccentric
Than I want to be
I dream of being eccentric
But it's off to work for me


Details | Free verse | |

SPRINGTIME

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.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Dedicated and inspired by My Sister Poet Mystic Rose


Details | Quatrain | |

Early Spring



Ninety days till springtime No more silly hats and mitts Can't wait till robin red breast Sings its happy springtime hit It's by far the sweetest season When that feeling is attained You wake up each day singing That happy spring refrain Could there be a greater feeling Away with that big red nose You feel the warmth all over Right down to your very toes It's how one gets through winter The promise of days ahead Thrilled with the sight of crocuses No winter storms to dread You may say I'm a wee bit early With my ode to springtime fun But ninety days goes by quickly Can almost feel that April sun So hang on just a wee bit longer It'll be here before you know it Probably think I'm a daft old man Or just a silly old poet! © Jack Ellison 2013
One can only dream...


Details | Free verse | |

Eternal Spring

With each stone,
A certain size,
A distinct color,
Water flows gracefully
Over each backbone of the brook.

Along the brook,
The water is pristine,
Yet calm and quiet,
Rolling over stones
And pebbles, the water streams into
A natural spring.

The spring dwells
Eternal life,
Once drank,
Life everlasting.
Offering life after passing.


Details | ABC | |

A Day In The Sky

The cool air,
blowing in my hair,
the sound of bells ringing loud,
sitting down on the soft clouds.
This down right pleasure,
is what I'll treasure,
that no other dream can measure.
These yellow an red skies,
reveals its moment of time,
sleeping in the mid air as much as I please,
the view of the day in the sky,
as clear as the seven seas.


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 | Rhyme | |

A WINTER MORN

Hushed nature stood reserved,
with no'ne to appreciate its beauty,
but placed for ages, preserved
and for ages following its duty.

When at the brim of verdant plot
some reaper, move at range
to charm but to depart
with sublime thought exchange.

With many unseen flowers
blush, shiver, and dies
peeping for someone from its bowers
and spread beauty, serenity, charm and flies.

Conserved water flow on its rugged path
and leave its lively mark
Each day as Sabbath
With reflected gleam of golden arc.

The grace of the lily swan
as it flies above heaven
above this mankind dropping and wan
between sun rays all seven.

The small plant which shiver at night 
just sooth their soul with silent sun's gleam 
and all new born plant which might 
have died, now sleep deep, and innocently dream.

Bad and good are juxtaposed ones,
if one prevail the next one wait
if good is present you cheer and dance
and if bad, you curse but your fate.

Good sooth the soul
as winter sun after dull night
and bad effects all
as in summer afternoon, a yellow sun bright.


Details | Free verse | |

Hidden Love

Every town I rode through ,
People were talking about your loveliness .
The best painter thought day and night ,
but fear to complain the king's difficult question.

I have inquired the way thousands of miles carefully ,
and wrote letters home frequently .
I'm calculating when we would wake up to see the rainbow,
and when to listen to the spring rain in a painted boat .

I have heard the lake is holy and no one can profane .
Immortals guarding folks are living on the top of the jokul.
Flowers will rain on the lake when they bathe.
and then fade when they go back without dust.

The wall hundreds of feet seems so close to me ,
and I want to gallop in the spring field.
 


This is  my  first  poem translated from my Chinese rhyme .I don't know if there are many mistakes in it .Can U help me ? Thankyou .


Details | Free verse | |

One Enchanted April

  1  
Falling  . . 
one enchanted April 
falling puddleward  into earth and sky, 
 in glorious, more-ious mud time,  falling;   
Trailing lilac tendrils  and wrapped in violets 
 In early light by dawn time,  I follow tiny footprints.  
Up far into the Spring Time  
Where children’s voices sing  
And laughter in the bowers ring;  
 
Falling  . . 
Deeper into Faery time, 
Bright dream time;  
Christened in pure delight 
 Puddle-icious and brilliant,  
Priested by meadowlight 
 Falling and falling  . . .puddleward into light. 
  
Over the moon 
and dizzy with stars, 
Still,  rising. . .


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Grizzly bears dream?

I am a grizzly bear in the depths of the earth, taking one last look at my forested 
wonderland before I fall into a deep, dark slumber, safe and sound in the rocky cave that 
encloses me into my bed of leaves. From the inside of my cave, the outside world looks like 
a painters palette with its brilliant array of colors and shapes. As I look before me, I see a 
changing world. As the leaves start to turn from green to red and orange, they dance a 
ballet of the season then fall to Mother Earth as their resting place, where they too will sleep 
until next spring. The castle wall of oak trees block my view of the trickling spring just 
ahead. Before the spring appears, mossy green rocks are trying not to drown in the breath 
taking view. I take one last look at this enchanting scenery and I pray that I will remember 
my beautiful vision in my dreams.


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the original author. © Alisha Groves