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Spring Inspirational Poems | Spring Poems About Inspirational

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

Willie Wagtail

Willie Wagtail

Willie wagtail wakes the morning
With his song outside my room
He tells me that the day is dawning
And sings away all shades of gloom.

Lovely bird, back black and shiny
With his belly creamy white 
He sits there on a roof so finely
Giving my Soul sweet delight
\
‘Morning’s here’ his song is singing
Every note so loud and clear
As his song to me is bringing
A feeling oh, so sweet and dear.

26 August 2013 @ 0657hrs.


Details | Pantoum | |

Ever Turning Circle

In winter’s white, as angels cry
for early spring to warm the wind,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned.

For early spring to warm the wind,
at Valentine’s romantic calls,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls.

At Valentine’s romantic calls,
rebirth of nature’s light divine,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls,
and blossoms pastel shades recline.

Rebirth of nature’s light divine,
when day equals the hours of night,
and blossoms pastel shades recline,
to hail the queen of May in light.

When day equals the hours of night,
a summer’s sun will come to play,
to hail the queen of May in light,
we chant and sing along the way.

A summer’s sun will come to play,
so life can grow as gods decreed,
we chant and sing along the way,
with warmth and light our hunger feed.

So life can grow as gods decreed,
the rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
with warmth and light our hunger feed,
the wealth of harvest is our own.

The rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
in autumn breeze that chills the heat,
the wealth of harvest is our own,
as gold and red belies our feet.

In autumn breeze that chills the heat,
a year that ends with blessed Samhain,
as gold and red belies our feet,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign.

A year that ends with blessed Samhain,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign,
in winter’s white, as angels cry.


Details | Sonnet | |

Down Where The Roses Bloom

Down where roses bloom in the month of June
The scented petals will mature and fall
Carried by zephrys of spring like balloons
Those petals in the wind over land sprawl

Pale pink petals carried away to land 
With a gental touch of kindness caress
The spring grasses with a delicate hand
Courteous as it lands with politesse

Each petal waits in turn to fly away
Their patience is long, each holds 'til time
They then 'pon the wind float and not betray
The Spirit within which is one sublime

Down where the roses bloom may the fruit grow
Let love lead as petals upon wind flow  

Sponsor: Gail Angel Doyle
Contest: Petals In The Wind
Written this 23rd day of January 2013
Written by: Sara Kendrick


Details | Haibun | |

Monarch of Summer

I await your coming
for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high…
lilac branches still bare and shivering
in the laggard lion’s breath of March
they await your kiss, Monarch of summer.

purplish buds
sprout from gray lilac branches --
daffodils bloom

Though all the tulips are gone
having served as desert for gophers,
the worm and the grubs stir in the wet spring soil…
and the hyacinths have replaced the crocus’s blue
the paper narcissus now, scent the air.

red breasted robins
hop between hummocks of grass --
bird bathes fill with rain

From the within the green pupa, soon
you will stir ..the membrane will thin, sheer as a curtain
in a spring breeze adorned in polka dots 
and wings like the crinolines of spindle legged 
virgin daughters  at first communion...
you will emerge with lash long antennae ready to fly.

leaves of cone flowers
push through the brown soil of spring --
anthills rise

I await your coming
for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high…
lilac branches still bare and shivering
in the laggard lion’s breath of March
they await your kiss, Monarch of summer
butterflies born.

 
Forms: Free Verse & haiku





Details | Rhyme | |

Song of the Dove -- Song of Solomon

Little dove, perched in the snow You need not ask For, how well, I know How your presence speaks quietly Of faith in the spring When you come out of hiding And we hear your voice sing… Rise up, gentle fair one For winter will pass The flowers will spring up And the soft, meadow grass As the spring comes alive And the grapevines will blossom Little doves, sing their song And the sun warms the skies Coo little, dove songs, Your voice will resound Winter shadows will flee away When the new morning dawns
______________________ Inspired by Sara's Contest: "Song Of Solomon"


Details | Rhyme | |

The Passage of Spring

The face of Spring on this misty morn
invites the seer of sights.
The mountain peaks in fog are adorned
as you view ascending heights.

Quiet rules this early daylight hour
while some yet nestle in bed.
Here, amidst misty morning showers,
of beauty, so much can be said.

Nature parades this passage of Spring
with colors and brightest green.
Flying about, the small songbirds sing;
such wonder in these glorious scenes.


Details | I do not know? | |

Healing Season

Autumn came this summer
on a cool winter's day
Then spring walked in behind her
Then spring soon danced away:
 
A flower grew beside her
from a freshly fallen pile of snow
And the petals fall onto the ground
shortly after the winds blows:
 
As quickly as the seasons change
so the same, time does pass
and the memory of frozen ground
is soon your bed of grass:
 
The time which a flower bares it's bloom
or clouds share their summer rain
Quickly passes with the shifting winds
As it guides away your pain:
 
My lover spoke just as a friend
As a stranger, then took my hand
As one beginning drew to another end
the setting sun made me understand:
 
The Earth is not that far around
The sun rises in the day
And as quickly as the lightning strikes
The storm can roll away.


Details | Couplet | |

Spring Morning

Slowly the light comes into my eyes.
The morning is here and that's no surprise.

Thin lines of the sun's rays shine through.
An open curtain from across my bedroom.

My eyelids are heavy and feel so dry.
Trying to wipe the long sleep from my eye.

The tiniest particles of dust float softly from my bed.
Splatter across thin lines of light just above my head.

I wonder to myself, should I get up or just stay.
The covers so warm and wishing to remain this way.

The smell of fresh coffee is permeating the air.
Who could it be making hot coffee out there?

A bright new day has started for all of us, not just me.
Come into my dream with me and see how great it can be.


Details | Haiku | |

---spears sing of spring

spears sing of spring
push past rag-tag laggard snow---
trumpet the sun


Details | Haiku | |

WET CHEEKS NOT SPRING RAIN....



wet cheeks not spring rain….
distinction applied by God
man sheds tears when sad


*Haiku for “The natural thing to do contest.”


Details | Rhyme | |

God's Reason For the Four Seasons

Each season has a special reminder to us...
We see God's love and can only trust.
Whether it is winter, spring, summer or fall.
I believe spring is the most beautiful of them all.

Things come into full bloom...
Everything grows until there just isn't any more room.
The gardens are being planted.
It is one season we do not take for granted.

Everything is fresh and alive...
It seems as if God is right there by our side.
The grass turns green,
With each new year there are more flowers to be seen.

A vast array of colors has just begun...
The flowers are given warmth from the rays of the sun.
The rain comes down to water them below.
The flowers come up as we all watch them grow.

With the fall of the leaves there's a fresh cool breeze...
Then comes the winter with a cold, cold freeze.
In the summer there is the shade of the trees.
But it is spring that I love to see.

The four seasons come and go...
But for sure this one thing I know.
This is His special love to us from above.
I find this to be: " God's reason for the four seasons."

"Garden"





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 use...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....


Details | Haiku | |

MUSIC - HAIKU

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


Details | Tanka | |

The Forest

Fern and bluebell thrive Dense trees forging green shelter Footpaths meander. Mystery at every turn Gnarled roots display nature's art. Forest canopy Dappled sunlight and shadow Rustling undergrowth Spring is stirring steadily Epiphany of nature.
Delice 11th May2015 "All rights reserved"


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.


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 | Haiku | |

Efflorescence

Blossoming 
Effulgent sun proffers love 
Clambering… 

Ascending
Above the undergrowth…of
Thorns and weeds

Furtively
The moon unravels wonders
Glimmering  


Details | I do not know? | |

You, Me, Us, Everyone

Flowers
Not named
Unknown to those with no curiosity
Buds, that dream of one day blooming
Being, more than they are
Flowers living
Being
Thriving
Touched by those who love
Protected by those who wish to love
Wishing to be more than they are
Buds, not truly knowing if they are ready for the world
Hoping they are strong enough 
Wishing to be the best
You, Me, Us, Everyone


Details | Romanticism | |

A Rose Amid The Snow


Who knows…amidst the cold of winter
When spring is just a memory
And her flowers all decay
Leaving just a trace of
A once glorious bouquet…
That love lies dormant in the snow
Determined to survive!

It is too late for spring
To come again this way
Her rosebuds bloom just once
Before they fade away
Despite our desperate
Pleading for them to stay
Love is only for the young…
How can it come my way?

Spring and summer love
Awakens us to life
We only hear the music
Not the possibility of strife
We are the young…
Invincible are we
Love will last forever
Just you wait and see!

Well…love doesn’t  last forever
Sometimes we grow apart
Or death intervenes
To break a grieving heart
And love becomes a word
Too painful to endure
And we become immune
To its powerful allure


But if your heart is open
To the stirring in the snow
And you dig beneath the surface
To the earth where flowers grow
You will find a rose still blooming
As it did once long ago
Pluck it gently…hold it fast
For the love you find in winter
Like the rose…will truly last

When spring is gone
And love grows cold
Turn your face to the sun
For love is best as we grow old
And life’s battles have been won
Open your heart to love again
You’re life has just begun

Copyright© 2005 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)


Details | Haiku | |

A Flower on a Branch

A flower petal

Blossom on a long tree branch

With a bright color


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 | Free verse | |

When The Tides Of Life Roll

When The Tides Of Life Roll
(Anaphora)

When morn awakes by the bluebirds trill
When the robin songs echo on the hill
When the tides of life run against you
When your dream rainbow is shining through
When again the dim hope lamp burns
When hopeful once again world peace returns
When crazy foolish tensions fill the day
When it is time to pause and pray
When the winter wiped away its frozen gloom
When again the glorious spring flowers bloom
When spring is showing all it’s glory
When nature is telling it’s timeless story
When your love is held by a strong cord
When  your faith is blessed by the Lord
When your guiding light does forever stay
When you shall walk the glorified way
When spring flowers bloom so bright and gay
When sunshine beauty blesses summers way
When autumn struts proudly across the land
When everything looks so colorful and grand
When the tides of life roll do not grieve
When you know that heaven provides all the need

Erich J.Goller
Copyright 10. 20.2011



Details | Cinquain | |

The New Spring Morning

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

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

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

Easing
The mind open
To new horizons
With the fragrance of the new spring
Risen.

By CarolineCécile
Copyright © 03.22.11


Details | Haiku | |

Early Spring

early spring
without trying
the cherry blossoms


Published World Haiku Review


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ghosts of South Dakota part 3

                     There were seven Indian Government schools.  All built alike.  The 
one I'm writing about is Spring Creek.  He Dog, Soldier Creek and White River, 
Grass Mountain, Two Kettle, and Black Pipe were the other schools.  The 
Headquarters for these schools was at Rosebud, South Dakota. 
	On some summer evenings we were able to talk our mothers into 
hiking to the lookout tower.  We followed the ankle deep sandy trail road to the 
cliff north of the school.,  A canyon lay at the foot of the tower but we climbed the 
bluff.  I don't know why we didn't explore the canyon unless it seemed dark and 
sinister.  The footing was better once we reached the summit.  The closer we got 
to the tower the taller it grew and standing at the foot of the steps looking up was 
easier than getting to the top and looking down.  My mother didn't usually make it 
to the top because she didn't like heights.  But she didn't mind being left behind 
this time.  We never could get into the building at the top because it was locked, 
but we could climb the steps to the very last one.  Even my little sister managed 
to elude mom and followed us to the top. 
	From the bluff we could look down on the garden.  My aunt grew a 
huge garden and canned the produce for the hot meals served the school 
children.  We kids didn't work in the garden very often, but we looked for the arrow 
heads and fossils.  Which, I suspect the adults probably considered the best 
place for us.
	At the end of the road, living in shack, was Old Lady Grease.  I have a 
vague recollection of seeing her.  Tiny, frail, wrinkled and gray headed is all I can 
remember.
	In spring and fall we were in school in Kansas.
	It's Christmas now.  Cold and usually snowy.  We were in a winter 
wonder land.
	I'm standing at the fire escape window.  The ghostly pale full moon is 
illuminating the naked arms of the trees as they shiver in the wind, swaying to 
and fro as if dancers in a ballet.  I listen to the winter sounds. The frigid air 
enhances their sharpness.  The ax's thud echoes up the canyon as one of the 
Indians across the river chops another supply of wood.  One of his peers beats 
on the drum.  It is one-thirty a. m.  but the thin walls of the tents do not keep the 
cold out.  Day or night this chore must be attended to for survival.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ghosts of South Dakota part 1

   	The location of the Spring Creek School was on a flat, nestled 
between the cliff on the north and the Little White River on the south.  The river 
flowed in from the northwest, circled to the south of the school about a quarter 
mile and wended it's way east departing to the northeast.  Though I never saw it 
in my day I imagine this was once a flood plain.  Yes, at one time this could 
easily have been the scene of flash floods.  The waters tumbling and sloshing 
their way across this insignificant piece of ground in a hurry to reach the exit.  
Time had slowed the waters and erosion had taken it's tole, leaving the west and 
south in twenty to thirty foot sharp sandy cliffs.  The ground sloped to the east 
leaving a two foot drop off.  A sandy graded road approached the large heavy duty 
bridge, crossed and continued on as a trail road.
	It's summer and the Little White River gently rolls from bend to bend.  
We are running back and forth across the bridge stopping now and then to lean 
over the rail and watch the Indian children splashing in the only deep spot.  It was 
first comers got the choice spot.  Big deal! Chest deep to a ten year old.
           We run off the bridge south.  The graded road crosses a big culvert 
allowing a small spring access to the river where it fans out at the point of entry.  
We run through the crystal liquid turning it into chocolate and leaving dents in the 
once smooth sand.  This is a child's paradise.  Sand so pure, soft and powdery 
warmed by the sun.  The deeper we dig the cooler the sand becomes as it is 
joined by the moisture below.
	Our mothers put limits on our water sports.  First: we had to wait an 
hour after the meal to get in the water.  Second: polio was a concern in our day 
and we didn't get to play as often as we thought we should.  Third: we were not 
allowed to swim unless our mothers were with us.  With the gardening, house 
keeping and canning, we were lucky if we got to swim two or three times a week.  
I guess that is why we spent most of our time on horseback.
	On the ridge north of the school stood a lookout tower.  In the long 
evenings we would be found always outside, either sitting on the steps, running 
up and down the fire escapes or in the front yard.  This was the only real green 
grass in the area.  It was fenced to keep cattle or horses from trampling it into the 
mirrored image of its surroundings.  This enclosure measured fifty by a hundred 
feet and was kept watered.  A large tree provided the only shade


Details | Rhyme | |

Spring Bounty

I found no berries, no pulpy roots
and the boughs above me
bore no fruit
So I layed on the grass
I gnawed on a blade

I can't be sure...
how long I stayed
I fell asleep...a while, ...I think...

When springtime came, and I awoke
I saw the fruit, and it was good
I gave my thanks, and then I prayed....


Details | Haiku | |

SPRING'S HAIKU

beautiful sunset
incredibly few brush strokes:
aha, Spring's haiku

Contest: Regina's "Aha Haiku"
Date: 7-31-14


Details | I do not know? | |

The Chalice of Courage pt3

“You walked many miles,
Climbed this mountain
To confront me,
A dragon with the reputation
Of being fierce!
All to possess a so called
Chalice of Courge.
By doing all that you have done
You proved that you already possess
The courage you seek.”

The dragon smiled once more
As he saw understanding 
Washed over Leonid’s face,
But soon followed sadness
And disappointment.

“Do not ever regret this journey.
This journey was not to acquire a chalice,
This journey was to unblock
The spring of courage
That resides in you,”
Said the dragon.

“This spring will never grow dry
Unlike this chalice.
This spring is natural
And there will never be any side effects,
And one day, this spring
Will become a strong river.”
These words made Leonid stand a bit taller.

As it had turned dark,
The dragon allowed Leonid
To stay the night
As the journey down
Would be dangerous in the dark.

The dragon and the young man
Talked most of the night
And it was quite late
When they both fell asleep.

The next day,
After they said their good byes,
And as Leonid was about to leave the cave,
He turned back to the dragon.

“Dragon, even though
I could not drink from the chalice,
May I, at least, see in it?”
Asked Leonid, timidly.

Understanding how curiosity
Can gnaw at a person’s soul,
The dragon tipped the chalice
Low enough for Leonid to see in it.

The Chalice of Courage 
Was empty.

“Sometimes, we need something
To aim for,
For us to take the journey
We need to take,
Even if that something
Is nothing at all,”
The dragon said.

Leonid nodded and left the cave.
He made his way down
The mountain safely
And when asked,
He said he had drunk
From the Chalice of Courage.

Leonid had gone on
To becoming a great warrior,
And only to those closest to him,
He would tell the true story
Of The Chalice of Courage.