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Spring Home Poems | Spring Poems About Home

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

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Details | Haiku | |

A Spring Haiku

cherry blossoms in an old bird nest. . . loved ones at my door

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | Rhyme | |

North Carolina

North Carolina—a beautiful place of humble abode,
On summer vacations or all the year round.
Rife with history, the Wright Brothers showed,
Thanks to Kitty Hawk's sand dunes at heights quite profound,
Hosting Earth's first manned flight on wings at our coast.

Carolina Tarheels—the battle cries loud,
Across our green state, Biltmore east, towards Kill Devil Hills.
Rolling gently across cotton and tobacco fields plowed,
Over civil war lands defended with vigor and skill.
Lakes and streams they're a plenty, abundant wildlife to boast,
Identified as "Southern" south of Mason-Dixon’s own line.
North Carolina place of wonder, from mountains to coast,
Appalachian Trail hikers by the thousands lovingly opine.

So the next time you feel, the need to discover,
Visit North Carolina's splendor, with a friend, sister, or brother!

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!

                    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

Copyright © Vee Bdosa

Details | Haiku | |

MUSIC - HAIKU

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

Copyright © humble b

Details | Free verse | |

Three days Saved

It's been nine years, I have counted the tears-
  they have made trails of guilt
  worried into my heart 
  then filled with loneliness and bitter despair
but by your grace I have been shown...

For the first time, in these nine years, I have not wept
  nor held a vigil to honor our grief
though the loss still burns, this time it is transformed

Peace from your love still reaches through death
  and through your eternal love I am reborn
  
 It is Good Friday. 
When God took your spirit home
  and left me dying to know,
  how to love him for his sacrifice
  when he asked me to give up you?
How do I heal this death and rise with you in his arms?

Through your love I was born, and in your arms I grew
 and it has been your love the kept me whole
 that taught me how to be reborn
    for even though your body has gone
    your words lost in the wind and breath no more
The essence of grace and strength you lived
- it grows still in your daughter soul

My being and existence came from your womb
  my heart and mind shaped by your enlightenment
I have lived a life you gave me and for once
   I live it in pride to honor your sacrifice
your words giving me the guidance I'd lost nine years ago.

Alas, I've come to know, that as you died
  and went home with our Lord, you saved me from my death
not in your dying, my grief and love can attest,
    but in your living strength and loving example
       you showed me how to live a life
             open to our Father's gift

We knew it would not wait, but the parting was too fast.
I sat in thought three days before your sleep and asked,
"In three days time my savior died, I wonder hence
   what of my soul will rise with his?"

And now sitting Easter morning, 
  holding my sons candy-filled basket,
I realized Three days passed.

  He took you home Friday morn, but left me love,
that eternal love that never dies
whose comfort is unending

I honor your love by giving it to my children
         and Easter morning I felt your hug, your kiss, and knew 
                                 you have never left me
.
Though God took you home Mom
I know you have never left me
for as our Savior died and rose
you too still live in my heart, 
showing me proof our Father's blessings

    because you, my love, are my soul and all ready there
there fore I am strong enough to give this pain up 
       to honor his sacrifice and transcend,
           to be humbled by the grace and mercy
          that could forgive such lost lambs as I

Copyright © tara jennings

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 | Haiku | |

Cherry Blossoms Jamboree

Cherry blossoms bloom; the townspeople sing, laugh, dance: hope springs eternal.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

Details | Abecedarian | |

Spring garden prep

SPRING GARDEN PREPARATION (20150213)

After the winter season
But before the rains begin
Catalogues of heirloom seeds
Delivered just in time
Earmarked and prioritized
Farmer’s Almanac consulted
Given planting periods
Horoscopes included (but useless!)
Individual seed varieties ordered
Junk mail shredded and added to compost
K (potassium) added as potash
Lumber purchased for trellises
Mulching around transplanted seedlings
Non-Genetically Modified Organisms only
Organic fertilizers only, too 
Planting by phases of the moon
Quick-fix pesticides are anathema
(Round-Up kills everything--US, not just weeds)
Seed boxes keeping seedlings warm
Testing the soil for minerals and organics
Unleashing ladybugs and pollinators 
Vertical gardening to conserve space
Watering just enough, but not too much
Xenocide, killing unwanted weed species
Youngsters helping (or hindering)
Zoning plants to vary root depths

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday

Details | Free verse | |

Eden Re-lives In The Spring

Every evening
When an amber sun strolls home through the gay sky
Real beauty encapsulates in the spring
Beneath the sentry trees and dim-eyed-aura
Nature's sacristans unfold a hidden heaven
Ecstasy steals the breathe of time 
Every specie bears a pigment of beauty
Assembly of flowers fragrance the perfect sanctuary
As songbirds sheds serenade to the glimmering spring
Hysteria sways the senses of sailing leaves
As they rapture home to aquatic paradise
Evergreen ones bid them goodbye
Perfection hymns from every living tongue
Eden re-lives in the spring 


Written by: Joseph Osita
05/06/2011

Copyright © Joseph Osita

Details | Couplet | |

They're Eatin' Me Outta House And Home

I'm lookin' forward to the arrival of spring with great anticipation,

With the bloomin' of purty flowers and much needed precipitation!

All winter long I've supported the local squirrel and avian population!

Word seems to have gotten 'round that there's free grub at my location!

They're eatin' me outta house and home causin' me some serious privation!

Hopefully, with arrival of spring them fellers will consider migration,

Seekin' other climes for their foragin' causin' me much less aggravation!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw

Details | Haiku | |

Flourishing Urban Way

Spring arrived in yard.
To be nested and flourish
home waits vacations

Copyright © Neelam Sangwai

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...


Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

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.





Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Rhyme | |

Whisper

Whisper.

Let us whisper you and I 
In a dark little corner and no candle light.

W'll wait until  dawn and watch the sunrise. 
Then catch a gentle breeze or watch a fading star.

We pick some flowers and catch a butterfly

We cross a small stream, sparkling water 
catches the corner of your eyes.

We make a sailing boat from paper then
write a little song.

Soon will be breakfast, then at dinner w'll say a prayer,
And at night time w'll light a fire, and then we retire.

Copyright © ali hammoud

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Waiting for Angels The Great War

Does your coat keep you warm and dry my dearest friend as you lay still and silent,
Did your metal helmet protect you on ruined fields as God called and took you away,
Did it hurt when you dropped to your knees and your blood soaked into already wet mud,
As you dropped from your knees face down forever, did you see your loved ones again.

I will stay by your side and keep you company, waiting until the angels come for you,
Do you know it's near spring the sun will soon have some warmth and dry our clothes,
In your last spite of sorrowful desolating memories, did you go back to your home and friends,
And if you went home , did you smell the thick cut grass along old lanes and hold your sweetheart.

Do you remember when we were young, just last year, can you remember that long ago,
And the different days with our sweethearts, walking in beautiful warm spring days,
We strolled many miles into distant dales, villages and across the wild brown moors,
We sat by a moorland stream talking important talk, of our future working the land.

Soon the bugles will sound, the same loud bugles that brought you to this last place,
If I ever go home I will see your father, and break his heart, you were his only son,
Like a brother I will always remember, we have seen much so quickly in these bad days,
Walking away my feet sink in churned mud and filth, I will tell his dad gallant lies.

Copyright © Terry Trainor

Details | Rhyme | |

Spring Cleaning

There’s a reason why the windows
Don’t get cleaned but once a year
And the answer, like my windows now,
Is obvious and clear.

It’s an awful, dirty job and it
Takes effort, time and sweat,
With an unobstructed view the only
Bonus that you’ll get.

If you live in an apartment,
On a floor up several flights,
Then the misery’s compounded
By the dizziness of heights.

For each time I grab a window,
I can picture my descent
And my husband in the doorway
Wondering where the hell I went.

Still, with rolls of paper towels
And a Windex, all a’spritz,
All the grime that I’ve been granted
Has just up and called it quits.

Now the vistas of the city
Are there beckoning to me;
Though they might have done so prior,
There was no way I could see!

Copyright © ilene bauer

Details | Light Poetry | |

Finally home


To look at your eyes,
They’re so big and so brown.
I’d reach forward to pet you,
Ears fall to the ground.

My eyes fill with tears, 
As I pull away,
How many years
Have you been caged this way?

How long has it been? 
Since you took a swim?
How long did you wait
For a scratch on your chin?

How many nights
Have you slept all alone?
When is the last time
You chewed on a bone?

I’m taking you home
Is all I could think,
I’ll fill you with food,
So much water to drink.

You can play with new friends,
Have a bed of your own.
Even sleep with us all,
Instead of alone.

There will be no more cages,
And bars like a jail,
I will scratch your chin,
Until you wag your tail.

Welcome home sweet one
Please do come on in,
Hey look at our pool,
Let’s go for a swim.

Copyright © Athena Hoefs

Details | Verse | |

Almost Spring

Almost Spring but only February
almost February but only January
only January but almost March.

Almost everyday I play my trumpet
almost every night I ride the trains
every midnight I'm on the trains.

Almost every morning I turn on the radio
every weekday I go to work
every midnight I ride the trains home.

Everyday I spend at work
almost every weekend I play the trumpet
Saturday I ride the train downtown.

Almost every night I get some sleep
only everyday I go to work
every midnight I'm on the trains.

Almost Spring but only February
almost February but only January
only January but almost March.





Copyright © Robert Ronnow