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History Spring Poems | Spring Poems About History

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

Details | I do not know? |

Spring Summer And Fall

From bright colors even the brightest blond turns grey.
Grown men now stand.
Were once young children did play.

 The once new cover.
Is now tattered and torn.
time has all but erased the oaths  once proud men had sworn.

The field now overgrown  still haunts memories of the blue and grey.
Old worn headstones markers of were they'll forever lay.
No bell to ring no voice shall call.
The ghosts of the past erased by spring summer and fall.

The old porch stands hidden by a overgrowth of vines.
Now blank are the boards that once were painted signs.
The blood followed swiftly from the wound of the past.
To forge a path to a time that could never last.

Gone is the tree that once stood so very tall.
Forgotten by time 
So is the legend of spring summer and fall.


Details | Free verse |

Tohoku -- When Worlds Have Altered

On an early spring day, washed brilliant with clover
In the land of the sun, and sweet cherry blossom
A tremble, a rumble, that rattled the earth
Cracking open the spring day, like the devil's own plaything 
Plates of dispute, on the edge of destruction
Beneath the sea’s surface…anger's wrath lies in waiting…

It came with no warning, …a mighty surge of horror
A tower of strength, to this tiny island flower
The harsh call of nature, came boldly from the shore
Relentless, the shaking, battering to the core
And altered the earth with a shattering shrill
Spilling despair, in a pillage of flurry 
Killing the helpless,     yet… leaving the courage

O’ land, of gentle people, wearing dignity’s expression
Those from afar, watched on with compassion
We gasped, then we cried, yet are awed with impressions
How hands helping hands, and courage ensued
Kind hearts, claimed the bruised, and calmed the confused 
You banded together…helping each another, 
Balance of elders, will hold you forever..
Grace under fire…. with honor we brand you
You raise up the spirit with hands of the valiant
Respect you have earned and honor you wear
The sun keeps on rising…..and will shine ever more


Details | Rhyme |

Spring Rain For Hindenburg

 Spring Rain For Hindenburg


2 Spring fronts had gathered on the East Coast

       Creating an overcharged atmosphere.

              Germany to 'Jersey'--3 days at most--
                      The "Floating Palace" had Max Pruss to steer.
                             804 ft. long! Quite Gigantic!
                                    With 97 passengers and crew,
                                    78 ft. shy of 'Titanic',
                             16 cells of hydrogen's how she flew.
                      200 ground crew (soaked) cast mooring line
              As 12 hours late, she came in high and game.

       The Hindenburg: "Titanic of the sky"...

Took 35 souls as she burst in flame.


~by deborah burch©
5/07/2012


Details | Haiku |

Efflorescence

Blossoming 
Effulgent sun proffers love 
Clambering… 

Ascending
Above the undergrowth…of
Thorns and weeds

Furtively
The moon unravels wonders
Glimmering  


Details | Bio |

My Favorite Number

I was born on July 20, 1958.

Being one of seven children and having a mid-summer birthday, even as a young boy, it was 
not uncommon for my birthdays to come and go without much fanfare.

In the winter of my Fifth Grade year at school, we had an assignment to write a short-story.  
I was already in love with writing way back then.  My short story was on a topic that was 
very much in the news at that time and a very interesting and exciting theme for a young 
boy.  I wrote a short story about me being the youngest astronaut in the space program and 
being selected to be the first astronaut to walk on the moon.  I was aware at the time, that 
the US and USSR were in a Cold War race to be the first country to achieve that lofty goal 
and I knew it was bound to happen soon.  To make my story even more special, I wrote that 
this wonderful event would take place over the coming summer, on my birthday!

Well, lo and behold, as the winter turned to spring and spring turned into summer the Apollo 
11 space mission launched from Cape Canaveral carrying three astronauts, two of whom 
were targeted to walk on the moon.

As my 11th birthday approached, without any notice from anyone else, I watched in awe as 
the Apollo 11 made its way to the moon.  On July 20th, 1969, the lunar landing module, 
Eagle, set down on the moon!  I remember expectantly waiting for the astronauts to be given 
permission to exit the Eagle and step foot on the moon’s surface as the hours of my birthday 
ticked down.  

It was about 10:00 pm eastern time when my parents finally sent us all to bed on the news 
that Mission Control made the decision to wait until the next day to send Neil Armstrong out 
of the lunar module.  With tears in my eyes, I went to bed thinking that I missed my chance 
to share my birthday with history and to have had my short story prognostication come true.

At a few minutes before 11:00 my parents woke all of us up to come watch as Neil 
Armstrong could wait no longer and talked Mission Control into letting him walk on the moon 
without further delay.

So, at about 11:00 pm, on my 11th birthday, the men from Apollo 11 walked on the moon for 
the first time in history.  One small step for man and one giant link to history for one small 
boy in Charleston, West Virginia.

And, that is when 11 became my favorite number.


Details | Verse |

Trois Par Huit/Tanka/Rondel-MY SPRING WAS TOO BRIEF

Why can't spring
last as a deep feeling,
and remain joyful and eternal?

What makes this season so vital and wonderful...
adorning our earth with flowers so delightful?
Who is so dubious to disclaim it? 

True faith admits no doubt...
will the heart?
  
My spring was too brief,
only desire outlived it...
floating as a leaf:
to taste death on barren ground:
such is the fate of all leaves!
 
Perhaps nostalgia is deeper than regret,
making me yearn with useless tears
and in doing so sorrow deepens...
without realizing I have no control over it.

Return spring with a new child in me,
making me run towards the sunflowers' filelds
increasing my chances to find serenity...
return spring, but don't be short and cheerless.

Years age the body, not the spirit...
as seasons remind us how fragile we are:
living one life and returning dust as before...
without voice, flesh, blood and thought.
 


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 | Haiku |

Beewolf

bee hunting an art                                                                                                     line bees to tree sun or bait                                                                                             follow to honey


Details | Free verse |

Current events commentary

Do you think I care 
For your phony Arab spring
And dead trees and hot wind
I have never seen a spring without seed popping from the soil
I should know I am made from the dust of the earth
Spring must have rain and bring flowers
Like the peace people use to sell in California
Before I knew they were only exploited slaves
Following someone else's agenda
Muttering words that were meaningless to their existence
You see what I cannot believe in what I see again
I am a man of faith, and have always been
Since the blindfold fell like scales of history
There is no Arab spring
Only the death of the old undying resistance
That would not conform to nothing but self
Only the death of people in the street
Who does not know the puppiteer willed them
For if they return from the dead
What will they see
Only the same old things more dilapidated than before
Only the invisible hand doing visible things
Killing people and calling it spring
That the new world order may prevail
As a new nomenclature
For the same old stuff that has made us barren
And berefted us of dreams
I want my children to better off than I have been
I can only entrust to me
Sleeping at their door armed with a prayer and an angel
That is who we were
Before the primitive hordes came from the sea
Before the sea people defied the bounds of their habitation
Before our empires were stolen
And we ended up in cages at the Bronx zoo
Yeah, you should read that story too
It is only by prayers we suruvive
It is the mystic part of us, the first part they derided
Calling it animism, or some dark sinister stuff
Making us afraid to own ourselves
We abandoned everything and found no berth
In their new economic order
For we were always commodities or some sort of value in exchange
So those high sounding, idealistic documents
They copied from what we believe but could not bring to pass
Those constitutions were not about us nor our possibility
For we were not construed to have humanity enough for that.
Then are we suddenly men again
That the Arab spring should be something more than a sinister thing.
I stop believing in Trojan horses long ago
I mean it is there as a gift
But I will keep working the night shift
When there is no moon
Just remember what is the color of my skin
Because all things work together for good
And I cannot walk by sight in the darkness
So I live by faith in season and out of season.