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Family Spring Poems | Spring Poems About Family

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

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Details | Couplet |

If Ava Lu invited you

   Spring tea,I'm invited
you are too ,'cause she's decided
underneath the willow tree
served a little after three
  baby bear and kitty cat
sit  right where they've always sat
but now she's put us on the right
beside the zebra black and white
  they're already stuffed you see
from eating cookies at spring tea
she has pots and pans to clean
from all her baking in between
doling out the china berries
"Don't eat them ,they aren't 
really cherries".
She makes cookies out of sand
a little water and they're grand
she will scold you if you're late
she meets you at the garden gate
escorts you to your special place
she has icing on her face
from the cupcakes Mommy brings
to mix them in with all those things
the leaves and acorns on our tray
   Spring Tea gets better every day
When you're almost,nearly four
you learn to serve,you learn to pour
just think how boring life would be
If not invited to SpringTea.


Details | Sonnet |

MEGAN'S HIT - the Baseball Sonnet

      MEGANS HIT - the Baseball Sonnet
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!

                    II.

"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!"
(the umpire was my Daddy, in this 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!
   
                   III.

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!

                   IV.

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!

                V.

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


Details | Couplet |

Easter Picnic

A is for ants, they love a picnic too!
B is for birds, you may have to shoo

C is for cake, maybe tangy lemon or spice
D is for drink, cool, preferably, lemon on ice

E is for Easter, the best time for a spring picnic
F is for flies, uninvited, they come and make you feel icky

G is for garden, an ideal place to sit and eat
H is for happy children, munching on treats

I is for icing, the frosty lemon topping     
J is for jazz, this music can be mellow or get you hopping      

K is for kite, huge, colorful and climbing high
L is for loud laughter, that travels sailing by

M is for memories, make them joyful together
N is for no, a word you shouldn’t say to Mother

O is for orange, gives a refreshing aroma when pared
P is for pies, very easy to make and share

Q is for quilts, handmade, in many long hours
R is for rings, like crispy sweet onions dipped in flour

S is for Sunday a good "picnicking" day
T is for tart, rasberry and coconut on display

U is for under, below a big tree, a cool spot for shade
V is for vitality, borrowed from sunshine at any age

W is for walking, a good thing to do after a meal       
X is for xylophone, an instrument little brother plays with zeal     

Y is for yellow jackets chasing the smell of sweetness in air     
Z is for a Zebra picnic blanket of black/white stripes, colors always in pairs 
~*~ 



I have always enjoyed picnics in spring with vibrant green grass and all things new.  I have a daughter, sweet as can be.  Picnics can be fun, so if you have  little ones, they grow up so fast this may be one of those times to make good memories.   



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!

                    II.

"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!
   
                   III.

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!

                   IV.

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!

                V.

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


Details | Ballad |

Rescue 911

Look after Joe our mother said
We promised we would do it
She needed a break from all of us
And went out of town for a visit.

It was the spring of '93
The blizzard had ruined my place
So Sam was helping clean up my yard
Little did we know
We'd soon be red in the face!

I went down to check on Joe
He asked me to regulate his shower
I told him I'd do it later
And asked if he could wait an hour.

An hour passed, then two
We were busy with what we were doing
We forgot Joe needed a hand
And was sitting, waiting, stewing.

When I remembered to go back
I found it out of my power 
For Joe had taken matters into his own hands
And was stepping out of the shower.

You adjusted the water, I began
Oh no Miss Emily
I could not do it myself
It was that nice policeman.

Where did you find a policeman
Out here in the sticks, I cried
Knowing in my heart something was wrong.
Easy Miss Emily, I figured it out
I needed help, 
So I dialed 911.

I was horrified, afraid they would think us bad
For neglecting our uncle that fine spring day
Too busy to give him what he needed
Scared they'd take him away.

Oh no probem Jane
The man said when I called
We understand what happened today
Just tell Uncle Joe if he does it again
That out of his pocket he'll pay.

Our mother was not happy with us
But eventually thought it great fun
That Uncle Joe took matters into his own hands
And for help, dialed 911.


Details | Couplet |

The coming spring




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

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

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

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

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

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

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




Death is a thief of a child


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


Details | Haiku |

MUSIC - HAIKU

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


Details | Quintain (English) |

SPRING SUGARING OFF



The horse softly blows and the wagon sways,
Deep in the bush on this well traveled trail,
I’m so happy we came out here today,
Each maple we spot wears a shiny pail,
And though winter loiters, spring I inhale.  

We near a clearing, there’s the sugarshack,
Steam drifts while thick smoke wafts from thin chimneys,
The boil’s on, cords of wood are neatly stacked,
Sap’s freely running from taps on the trees,
And sweet is the scent that clings to the breeze.

Watching the making of pure liquid gold,
We sip spiced, apple cider from a cup,
Heart warmed, even though noses are still cold,
Waiting for toffee, a joy filled lineup, 
How charming the ways of maple syrup.




By Cyndi MacMillan, Feb 4, 2012
For Francine Roberts "English Quintain Me a Spring Day" Contest


Details | Free verse |

The art Of Spring

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

He


Details | Rhyme |

SPRING AND THE DEVIL'S ARM

      SPRING AND THE DEVIL'S ARM
Abbreviated by an early autumn night
the summer, once tormented by a torrid sun,
relented to September, as if dying might
give reason to all things the heat and time has done;

The stalks of corn, if touched, explode into a dust,
and water tables sink down to a new found low,
but love always goes on, as love, it always must,
through drought and flood, and shortages that come and go.

There in the field, an old man points his maple cane
as if a prophesy, and something we should know,
always, always, always, there will be too much rain,
or not enough, and only love can ever grow.

There is a blizzard brewing, it's part of the plan,
up in the wastelands north, with tons and tons of snow;
and on a winters' morn, snow will be deeper than
the fences seperating everything we know;

and how the wind will howl, and everything will freeze,
there's little we can do, but hope for early spring,
always, always, always, we fall down to our knees
in love and prayer that times like this always will bring.

Next spring the rains will always fall, perhaps too much,
for some the devil's arm will reach down from the sky,
and twisting life about, there is no gentle touch,
excepting love, and that is all that gets us by.

Always, always, always, love has to always be,
though borrowed from the wind, though sought in pain,
though snatched out of the grip of some cotastrophe,
if not for love, there'd be no welcome summer rain.


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