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Spring Hope Poems | Spring Poems About Hope

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

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Details | Personification | |

The Promise of Spring - A Fibonacci

Kiss you
While you sleep
Lady dressed in white
And melt your cold heart  made of ice

Will rise
High into the sky
And fall as raindrops from God’s eyes

Buds below
Where now you will grow
With me - in the bloom of a rose

Author:  Elaine George

* Note:  This poem is a Personification as well as a triple Fibonacci

Brian Strand's 'Image Contest':     First Place
John Heck's  '12-in-one' Contest:  First Place

Copyright © Elaine George

Details | Triolet | |

At Winter's End

At winter’s end, sweet hope begins to swell until it fills the earth. Forlornness fades; renewal wins at winter’s end! Sweet hope begins to scatter seeds that blossom mirth as sun looks down at us and grins! At winter’s end, sweet hope begins to swell until it fills the earth.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | Verse | |

Fall to Winter, Rise to Spring

                                      Fall to Winter, Rise to Spring

                                            Fallen, down and out
                                     Frozen, not dead nor decayed
                                           Rising, faith with wings!

                                               Kim Patrice Nunez
                                               November 15,2014

Copyright © Kim Patrice Nunez

Details | Couplet | |

A Day When Winter Said Goodbye

In the midst of morn she quietly rose to greet the dawn of silent repose She searched beyond the frozen hills and through the bough's of crystal frills She danced in dream as clouds rolled by in hopes the sun would pierce the sky As moments passed nil of light the wind kicked up with all it's might In tumbling turmoil the west winds raged in fluttering beauty to turn the page Within a breath a single sigh the Winter wrath had waved goodbye As sunlight burned of velvet white upon her face a shaft of light... ______________________________________ Poet ~ Rick Parise

Copyright © Rick Parise

Details | Abecedarian | |

Spring Revival

Acres of lush emerald meadows
burst forth from pregnant earth,
creating the perfect background for a
dazzling array of wildflowers.
Expectant mothers of beast and fowl
fill the countryside with new
generations, eager to find their way.
Honeybees and hummingbirds
in frenzied competition for sweet nectar.
Jasmine and gardenia blossoms
kindle their senses with a 
lustful, pungent fragrance.
Mares, folding new colts,
nudgeing them gently up
on quivering, spindly legs.
Ponds give travel to ducklings following in the 
quake of proud mamas.
Rainbow trout rush upstream to
spawn, before laying eggs in lazy pools.
Throughout floral scented air,
unfettered birds soar freely,
voicing a revival of hope and joy.
Whimsical butterflies take a rest on
xylem, between aireal ballets.
Young babes everywhere, renewing our world with a 
zest for life's adventures, awaiting.

Contest: Abecedarian
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton

Copyright © Arlene Smith

Details | Terzanelle | |

Seasons promise

 Trees  in silent strength stand  bare
Yet in their silence dwells  the hope of spring
Though  winter keeps  them in  its  icy glare

Desolate landscapes  bare the scars of winter's sting
 And hardly a creature utters  a sound
 Yet in their silence dwells the hope of spring

Days are  bleak with gray skies all around
While icicles  hang from window sills
 And hardly  a creature utters a sound

As life stands  still in winter's chill
Those sunny days  are hard to find
While  icicles hang from window sills

Cold winds blow with storms that blind
But the hope of spring does not decline
Though  sunny days are  hard to find

As weary creatures look for a sign
Trees  in silent strength stand bare
But the hope of spring does not decline
Though winter keeps them in its icy glare
 11 -11 - 2012 

Copyright © Joseph May

Details | Free verse | |

Shrink Wrapped

The days go by
as I walk around the man made lake,
churning the tides of time backwards
making butter from the gold and brown broth
a solitary wanderers on the same gravel path.
Always a person for whom the flow meant danger
from spring to summer,  I walk the scene
with cheery “mornin’s”
popping the insular bubbles 
of self imposed


The days go by
as spring returned to my aged step.
The flow lures the weary mind tired of treading water.
Glassine eyes cataract dimmed clear and lift to blue skies.
Familiar faces grin back hooked 
on a cheery “mornin’”
Marshaled resources clockwise turn.
Forward thinking, right sided, occasion walks
from summer to fall
popping the insular bubbles 
of self imposed


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi

Details | Rhyme | |

Spring Hope

A flower so blooms through the new fallen snow
While wicked old winter’s wind wistfully blows
Allowing a glimpse, of spring through the white
Though old mister winter kisses green grass goodnight
A sign of the future, a welcoming spring
The flower gave hope, despite white suffering
It told of its virtue, its strength and its pride
And said, though it’s winter, it shan’t ever hide
For there in the distance you can see spring draw near
Winter will end soon, just like year after year

Copyright © Michael Degenhardt

Details | Free verse | |

Spring Colors

Sun shining on a spring day
Grass spent months under winter’s snow
Reaching for the sky
Hoping for that one last sunbeam
Desiring a moment of warmth
Streams covered with ice
Thaw into distant rivers
Feeding fields as they flow by
Plants and trees spread into life
Showing a beauty hidden by the icy cold
Flowers burst through the ground
Hues and tints not remembered
Brought back to the imagination
Turning empty hillsides into palettes
Painted by brushes created at the start of time
The colors grow and fade
As the time of summer comes and goes
And once again
The beauty and color of life
Hides beneath a white blanket
Waiting for that one moment 
For the sun to return on another spring day

Copyright © R. e. taylor

Details | Free verse | |

Spring Sprung

I am up
before the sun
and I move 
with anticipation
to the shade.

To peek out.

What awaits?
What has occurred
while I slumbered?

A new blanket 
of snow and ice
would be nice
with rabbit tracks
across the lawn.

Had sheets of rain
fallen around
leaving branches 
on the ground
and puddles 

Would there be 
a kiss
of fog and mist
hanging there
laying imagination 
and mystery
upon the new day.

Alas none of this.

And then
the melodious sounds
of long ago
flood my ears
and fill my soul
returning as suddenly
as they left...

The birds are back.

Copyright © Alisa Leyden

Details | Sonnet | |

Oh Spring Day

I was wrong about spring, 
for all those months I painted the blame on winter’s dark face.  
Wave after wave of cold cloudy, darkening days,
saturated my damaged point of view.  By the way
I am sure I will die on a winter day, blaming the solstice, 
waiting for the capricious spring to finally arrive.

But my heart will be frozen, and perhaps not even alive.
God how I love the way you make the sun shine.

I was wrong about my fate,
I filled the frame in haste, too busy to wait.  I didn’t listen.
I ate my own eyes, and blamed the skies,
I chased the horizon and wrapped it in lies.  

Oh spring day, it is never too late,
to fill me with mercy and grace as I wait.

Copyright © James Fredholm

Details | Rhyme | |

The Long Wintered Heart

The seasons of the heart stop turning
When last the coals of hope quit burning...

   The long wintered heart doth endow
   Slumber, waiting for spring to come
   Like the field that awaits the plow
   Or, a seed that waits to become.

But no plow can break that frozen ground
Nor, can precious seeds of love be found...

   It's a land where hope has vanished
   That place called the long wintered heart
   Where spring is forever banished
   And, where winter never departs.

A dying land refusing to die
Frozen from pain beneath ashen skies...

    A barren land with no cities
    That's crowned a clown for it's king
    A clown robed in blue self pity
    Like, a blue bird that cannot sing.

No birds sing, no kingdom for the king
No summer's growth, no hope for a queen...

    Yes, I know of this wintered place
    In that wasteland there rules a clown
    Who stole my name, and wears my face
    With my smile painted upside down.

                                     Timothy I. Brumley

Copyright © Timothy Brumley

Details | Romanticism | |

A Flower's Funeral

A sweet flower's funeral
displayed in the cold months
of snowy weather and bone chilling shivers.
A sweet flower burned away, dried up;
buried six feet under.

Oh, my sweet flower,
how you once bloomed with no remorse,
like a madman blooming with beauty
and a glorious halo over your head
shinned with such power and blinding glory.

Oh my sweet flower how you have gone now,
resting in peace in the land of paradise.
Oh, my heart it is weak when I see your face,
of once beautiful smiles and warm embraces.
I can hear your crying out to be free.

Snowing and bone chilling cold ripes at my soul
and feelings of sorrow rage through my blood,
boiling my hatred to the world, for losing your
sweet and ever glorious beauty.

What I would give away, if I could be with you
one last night, one last night together
to hold you in my arms, to smell your sweet perfume
that brings back sweet memories of you and I.
What I would do to be with you,
such romance travels through my heart in the highways
of my veins in my body, love is all throughout me,
and my heart breaks when pictures of you start to collect dust.

My love for you, my sweet flower,
is still ingering through the air,
as I travel and look upon a tombstone
which shows your beautiful name.

Come to me my dear flower,
when spring comes,
come to me my dear, sweet flower.
And bloom once again,
twice as large as last year,
and ten times more beautiful then last year.
Come to me in the first months of spring
in my dreams, so I could sit and talk with you.
I miss you already,
and my heart crys,
my eyes flood with tears of sorrow.
I miss our love we shared.
Long walks,
cosy talks,
warm cuddling embraces
and beautiful displayed in a picture frame.
Now I hear the tapping of raindrops on my window pane.
That is all that keeps me company,
that and the rose you gave to me
and a picture of you and me.
Love is endless, even when blue eyed Death comes to visit
and play a game of chess with us,
we all play our game, my love.
I shall go tonight
in my sleepy slumber
and dream of you in the times of our height in our love for each other.
My lost love, you are gone, resting in paradise,
but never forgotten my sweet flower.


Copyright © Chris Boskovski

Details | Sonnet | |

Spring Hope

And now the weeping willow turns to green.
So brilliant red, the robin’s breast,
Just like the sun, now sinking in the West,
And down the lane more signs of spring are seen :

The spiky blackthorn blossom’s shining white –
It looks as if the hedgerow’s decked with snow.
Beneath, the peeping primrose seems to glow
With luminous and creamy lunar light.

Come hear the soaring skylark’s tuneful song
And listen to the jackdaw’s chimney chat.
See squabbling sparrows startled by the cat
As through the undergrowth he slinks along.

We mark these signs of Spring so early in the year,
But damage from late frosts may dash our hopes I fear.

Copyright © Mike Jones

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

Copyright © Jay Loveless

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

An English Spring Ramble

Spring is here in every new budding leaf
that flourishes beneath
this vast expansive sky of baby blue.
Wild pink cherry in blossom by the road
covers soft yellow daffodils on show,
fav’rite colours in a nursery hue.

Push’d into this expectant painted world
first lambs, tails unfurled
wobble under udders in fields of green.
Along hedgerows where I slowly amble,
deep within the ancient knotted bramble
Tree Sparrows flitter and twitter unseen.

Walking with my eyes and heart wide open
silent words unspoken,
the wayside has its own story to tell.
The wild birds’ spring symphony holds me
standing here beneath the sunlit cherry
looking through branches at a clear blue sky.

Copyright © Diana Rosser

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!


"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!

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!


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!


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 | Free verse | |

like diamonds

two hits and i’m hanging off cliffs, listening to water


watching moss fall like snowflakes.

nothing holding my heels down but gravity, irrelevant to me.

the little girl exploring the ocean floor, the caves that once held entrancing treasures.

even tactile pain drives me into a gust of euphoria.

my heart beats (slower than it should), but the trees don’t mind.

the four shades of green blend to create a forest-

with each exhale, branches move in tandem.

and a salty tear falls from my eye,

reminiscent of what once was here.

Copyright © Morgan Tate

Details | Free verse | |

Soy Sauce Spills

Soy sauce drains 
Into the white, clustered rice
Stepped on…
spills . . . 
Soy sauce taints
The whiteness of the grain
 It slips out of my hands
No point in crying out in rage
Though I was starving, 
I'll just eat another thing and start on a new page

I'm hungry like a swine
I wish I can earn back my snack!
I'm as angry as a bull
I'm about ready to attack! Attack!
Soy sauce packages
Fall unto the dirty school ground
Stepped on
By bratty, conceited teens
They really need to eat their greens
Instead of junkfood and pizza
They should drink some water
Instead of drinking sugary drinks or
 Sucking on popsicles obnoxiously
Why did the soy sauce spill? Seriously....

Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings

Details | Free verse | |

The Green River

She slips from the sleeping ice.
Green, fresh, free to flow
through the great fjord.
Past the blue mountains.

She glides smoothly
over the rocks with glee,
covering them with her cool touch.
Tall evergreens cheer her on.
Waving as she courses down her chosen path,
carrying life. 

All the while never tiring!
Surging forward to join the others like her.
This vast journey ,
will not end till she reaches
The Great Shores.

Her journey is joyful.
Touching all on her banks,
leaving the gift of life in her wake.

Copyright © Gypsyof Essence

Details | Haiku | |

A Flower on a Branch

A flower petal

Blossom on a long tree branch

With a bright color

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast

Details | Haiku | |

Cherry Blossoms Jamboree

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

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

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 | |


Effulgent sun proffers love 

Above the undergrowth…of
Thorns and weeds

The moon unravels wonders

Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings

Details | Sonnet | |

Seasons 2 - A Metamorph

 Trees  in silent strength stand  bare
Yet in their silence dwells  the hope of spring
Though  winter keeps  them in  its  icy glare

Desolate landscapes  bare the scars of winter's sting
 And hardly a creature utters  a sound
 Yet in their silence dwells the hope of spring

Days are  bleak with gray skies all around
While icicles  hang from window sills
 And hardly  a creature utters a sound

As life stands  still in winter's chill
Those sunny days  are hard to find
While  icicles hang from window sills

Cold winds blow with storms that blind
But the hope of spring does not decline
When  sunny days are  hard to find

As weary creatures look for a sign
Trees  in silent strength stand bare
But the hope of spring does not decline
Though winter keeps them in its icy glare

 Trees stand in frozen quietude
Abiding yet in the promise of spring
While  winter plays a frosty interlude
As cold winds sends snowflakes swirling

Animals tucked away in their dens
Silently await springs arrival
But they must endure until then
To assure their survival

Soon spring blossoms will appear
Birds will flit from tree to tree and sing
Butterflies will dance on flowers fair
Abiding in the joy of spring

All those gray skies turn to blue
As springtime  comes with morning dew

Copyright © Joseph May

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Daisy

A single daisy grew along the fence
Standing tall and happy
Among the weeds and scattered yard waste
In the strong sun not yet of summer
And I offered a silent salute
As I sauntered by
Because I daresay
I envied its resolve

Copyright © Brandi Elizabeth Brown

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"

Copyright © Tom Larrow

Details | Cinquain | |

The New Spring Morning

Morning spring air
Blowing kisses, soft blush
Upon my cheeks, brings natural
Make up.

My frame to wake
My heart in the upbeat
With the prospect of a new day
To meet.

Senses to feel
The hopes of dreams, reborn
With the new morn, chasing spirits

The mind open
To new horizons
With the fragrance of the new spring

By CarolineCécile
Copyright © 03.22.11

Copyright © Caroline Cécile Delacroix

Details | Haibun | |


spring showers-- amid the flowering plants a barren pot Sitting in the gleaming plush waiting room of a high profile doctor, she imagines herself as that flower pot of her terrace garden whose seeds failed to germinate. At this IVF and gynecology hospital she cannot help but notice the little to large baby bumps of expectant mothers all around her glowing with anticipated pride. Ah! the maternal ache in her empty life again fills her with a sudden sense of loneliness. gust of spring breeze-- tinkling of the wind chime in a silent home She thinks of the evenings spent alone in her beach facing pent house, all the while dreading the ones to follow. After three failed cycles of IVF, the las semen sample of her deceased husband is the straw of hope she is desperately clinging to. She taps her touch screen cell phone and longingly gazes into his loving, laughing eyes in the picture. Oh! How she longs to spend the rest of her life loving someone that so "him"! When he was diagnosed with a terminal illness they'd managed to store four samples for her conception just in case... And the worst fears came true. Now before proceeding for the final cycle she almost beseeches her lady doctor to ensure that all possible means of a success are employed correctly this time. The doctor smiles and assures her. Ready to endure all pains and procedures, she completes her treatment and returns home, a silent prayer in her heart at all times. blossoms sway-- the bee hovers on a sun kissed bud As if signifying anything, the long dormant seeds of her barren pot sprout. her heart fills with hope each day for the next month as she watches it grow rapidly with every sunrise. Yes, blossoms blooming marking the onset of spring. Spring in her garden and spring in her life, so the doctor confirms. Yesha Shah

Copyright © Yesha Shah

Details | Couplet | |

Remember Spring

When the snow begins to fall and its chilled outside
Our spirits begin to fade like a misty tide

It's hard to keep our head and chests up high
We want to lay in beds and do naught but cry

But we should remember what comes after the snow
The sprouting hope of the rose petals show

That happiness can be found inside a soul so cold
One that has found that it feels way too old

So smile today, and smile tomorrow
On memories of spring, we borrow

Copyright © Jordan Dickinson