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Spring Music Poems | Spring Poems About Music

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

Flower Song


Oh, where do tender flowers sing?
When do we hear flushed petals strum?
Soft on the breeze, blooms sweetly hum.
Their melodies begin in spring.

I walk through meadows delicate.
The flowers’ song a symphony;
no sound of death’s cacophony.  
In beauty, earth and sky beget.   

The season’s sounds, a pleasure heard,
each flight of buzzing bumble bee,
each butterfly fluttering free,
Spring’s lyrics sung without a word.

With every flower blooming wild,
lovers dance silently beguiled.


*For Rick's Flower Song Contest, 2/15/15
Form - enclosed rhyme, ending in a couplet





Details | Verse | |

Langue d'oc, a Micro-Paradelle

Your love song lapsed into ancient French that April day.
I only understood the words of spring and heartsore
lapsed. Only love and heartsore, I understood your ancient 
words of the spring-day song into that French April.

You fabricate my pauses into repetition, silence speaks
of ages strung to rhyme in love’s difficult service
you strung into pauses in service to ages. Fabricate of
love’s repetition, rhyme speaks my difficult silence.

We practice tedium of vows till language breaks apart.
As if art should aim at science, rigorous, quantitative,
rigorous language breaks tedium. Science vows a part of 
quantitative practice till we should aim “as if” at art.

Till we lapsed into language. As your ancient ages only
fabricate quantitative French strung to that difficult
practice, science speaks of tedium and understood rhyme. 

The spring in service of love’s rigorous vows. April 
pauses, heartsore. You and I, apart. If love should aim 
my words at day, repetition breaks into silence of song.


Details | Narrative | |

BEFORE SPRING CAME

Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    



Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...



After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
 


Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  


My theme is: Happiness In Childhood


Details | Haiku | |

MUSIC - HAIKU

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


Details | Haiku | |

Cherry Blossoms Jamboree

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


Details | Rhyme | |

AN AUSTRALIAN SPRING

Through this happy season, when everything is green and blue,
we won't see snow-capped hills, or mountains,
only brooks and rivers bubbling in sun rays;
lay down on their bends and hear their music as children do!

An Australian spring is unique and beautiful, everybody
is welcome to join us in song;
bring your flute, guitar and drum...
make music in jovial air while it harmonizes with serenity!


Through these four short months,
feel lively and observe the eager butterflies kiss wildflowers, 
but an occasional rain may fall from the vagrant clouds...
see its gentle raindrops delight open eyes!


An Australian spring is unique and beautiful,
especially in the wilderness and countryside; 
down here, isn't spring unforgettable?
Let's run faster than kangaroos that seem to glide!


Details | Limerick | |

Ned's Spring

There once was a Scotsman called Ned,
Who spent all his time in his bed.
He broke yet another spring,
As he danced the Highland Fling.
‘They make beds so fragile,’ he said.

For Francine's Wow me in Five Lines.


Details | Free verse | |

Melody In Spring

            Melody In Spring

Penelope runs full force with speed between the daffodils
Bright yellow dust collecting on her purple dress
Green residue from grass form on her shoes
Red faced in open suns embrace she races to the woods
Lights flicker off and on between the shadows of the branches
Running fast, silk laces in her hair, flying, dodging the very air   
Kaleidoscopic strobe lights in effect
Provided by the day and natures wonders
Sun light dancing up above through swaying trees
with kisses and love between the blinking leaves
Penelope is the wonder found in nature
She is melody unfolding lovely on the run
Thrills open up in spring, blossoms on her smile
Colored flowers sing


Details | Sonnet | |

Blossom Sonnet

When the winter winds have stole

   their shivered breath,

And warmer now, snow is shed,

   what lovely can bring when it sings;

(From mountains deep to waken sleep)

And gather the birds to their blossomed boughs,

   singing their elated woody sounds,

   (gently loitering in elder trees)

   speckled chirps in forest green

Neath budding Sylvan mistletoe 

   the earth is born-again, 

   ages old

   returns this ditty of long ago

   (til rejoicing in leafy worlds)


Details | Light Poetry | |

Feather Beauty Bright

I spy, a feather beauty bright
With speckled blush on breast
Basking within the thicket light
Dancing round about her tiny branch 
 
Your fluttering sight beholding
Within the snowy briar
Bathing among the warmth
Of the morning's golden glory

Its brilliance your own crown of halo
Like a sunburst that swallows
Up the end of February's sigh 
As other feathers flusters zoom right by

The ginger little fellows all dappled, scramble
A merry-go-round within a flight
Threading joyous song throughout your bramble
As further flocks of scurry, hurry fly

On parade teasing wings of faerie sprites
A musical path of crisscross kites
But, you little one are the daring, bursting forth
With higher operatic songs, to startle and scold those spry

Feather beauty bravely 
Upon your perch chest thrust out boldly
Nonsense rhymes and a new found might
Chase away the imps of finch and thrush
And keep yourself the sunbeams for its light

And bask yourself once more this time
Among the drops of melting dripping snow
And gather up all tis full
Feasting here, where the wild wild berries grow
 
But, in the end you are their kin 
And soon, my fairy feathered friend you too must go
Out, onto twittering leafy stemmy stem and off...
Into the yonder of the coming spring to rove


Details | Free verse | |

Spring

I love the symphony
of the flowers
which composes itself
after mid-winter showers;
though silent to ear,
it rings loud and clear
in the soul which holds
God's creation dear.


Details | Epigram | |

Music of Spring

.   
                     Snow leaves.....

                     Greensleeves.....


Details | Free verse | |

Spring Song

The ides of March have gone and come.
Still, strains of vernal music sound
clear echoes, in my ears, of early times,
of other years: an orchestral swell
of oboe, flute, and violin.
The feel of warming wind,
the scents of orange blossom,
daisy, buttercup, and clover
I once enjoyed --
are those days over?

My recent times are flavored
with metallic clank, with oily odor --
my eyes fatigued by newsprint
and small-screen glare.
And music: the blare
of claxon-horn and siren-wail
and, sometimes, noise which
issues from a box borne on shoulders
through the street; an empty, but compelling,
quite insistent, loudly pulsing beat.

I welcome all new, although slight, intrusions.
Pale sensory perceptions bring back images,
now faint, once acute, of places, times,
and pleasures past.  Faded sights and faces
and shadowy, unquantifiable pursuits
evoke a time when love, like freedom,
didn't cost a dime.


Details | Rhyme | |

Spring Cleaning Symphonies

Songs found together,
Lost in the ether,
Never again to be heard.
Back in their cases,
Tied up with laces,
Memories captured , like birds.

Turn radio off,
A flame for a moth,
Sad, genial melodies.
They fissure my heart,
And hold me apart,
Snaring with sweet harmonies.

Anthems of love,
lost like a glove,
Just one half still listening.
These tunes heard alone,
Don't have any soul,
They no longer mean a thing.

31 Aug 2011


Details | Free verse | |

ALLURED BY AURORAL GLEAMS

Light alters the ambiance 
of all that is seen;
the accelerating clouds escape
 while a distant trumpet,
embodying the allegro beat,
arranges beautiful arias
that ascend like orchards' pink petals 
unaware of us
watching as they enter
 the radiant atmosphere...  
look up, those fading stars adore them! 
Against the igneous rocks algae cling,
empty boats err 
without any stirring;
anguish for one heart awaiting night...
opening her eyes,
she allows fears   
and tears ignoring the ardent moonlight:
again lonely, allured by auroral gleams!  
    
    


            


Details | Narrative | |

WHEN SPRING DIDN'T HIDE ITS FLOWERS!

Nothing is more delightful
and simply remembered by a sweet word...
than a walk through a green forest,
to find a remote spot on a low hill
and put those daily worries to rest;
the anxious eyes long for that vision
of a last, unforgotten season: 
the gentlest rain which brings
a familiar fragrance from other lands...
when spring hides its flowers!

Whenever the lonely poet dreams,
his unerring hand is quicker that  the flowing streams:
the distant vison of his flourishing thoughts
is carried to unseen places; 
and all he wishes is to feel  a sublime peace...
when spring hides its flowers!

The wishful child ,led by his mom ,searches 
 the leaf-covered paths with a sorrowful glance,
even the robins and blue-birds can't confort him,
 or give him some kind of hope for his unleashed whim;
and will he relish the joyful promise of each year,
as a gentle hand caresses his blonde hair...
when springs hides its flowers from his zealous eyes,
and one of those adolescent dreams unexpectedly dies?

I, once, was like him:  curious,cheerful and so restless:
seeking surprises in unexpected places...
finding myself in front of simple wonders
that couldn't  be perceived by the adult mind,
as if they were another mystery, not the creation of God...
when spring didn't hide its flowers!


Details | Imagism | |

Spring

The sun shines in a friendly glow while the birds sing mating songs, searching for that lost bond of intimate natural longing. Greenery illuminates the path through the garden, colorfully decorating the atmosphere with contentment. Leaves drift beatifically to their resting place in the aura of serenity; wisdom in the blossoms wherein dastardly royalty is usurped by inane benevolence. Such generosity cannot freely bandy about when originated from petulant systems of feigned philanthropy. Evidence mystifies the instituted kindness with otherworldly martyrdom prevailing over dynamically advantageous disproportion. A youthful sprite exudes sage harmony that listens intently to ruminated introversion and callously disregards obnoxious outburst. A twig snaps into seventy equivalent sections; equilibrium begets solitude among the predetermined assortment. Begin again and sweetly profound anew. Did it start? Nevermore, with the exception of a shift in the concept of causality's influence: kleptomania for knowledge and acceptance of besmirched spirits. Souls pine for an existential seed to spurt roots and permeate the dirty confinement. Cyclical imperfection trudges through sludge, almost cinematic in its unveiling. It is astounding in each fresh, yet repitious succession. A song skips lyrical lust and jumps to instumental amelioration: The symphonic glory of all encompassing, magnificent, eternal, ascending powerfully and synthetically descending, original, cooperative, and unorthodox love.


Details | Rhyme | |

SPRING, FLABBERGAST ME WITH YOUR SCENTED FLOWERS

Spring, flabbergast me with your scented flowers:
show me the gracious lilies and flaboyant tulips
as they spent their time brightening lovers's eyes;
yes, open up your garden where the red sun dips,
and the voluptuous lovers hug and passionately kiss...
rising in me a desire that takes me back to youthful days!



Down the rusty path, flanked by pines and fir trees,
the blue-jay parched on the lowest branch, is quite and waits;
at exactly twelve o' clock he starts warbling as a siren wails...
we have become friends, and he inspires me to write melodies,
but without a pencil and music sheet I must retain those notes into this active brain,
until I get home and write them down while he shelters himself from he misty rain.



Spring, flabbergast me with your scented flowers:
show me the stately sunflowers and the wild roses 
growing taller than any plant seen in the wind-swept wilderness
as the mariachis play their song to console a marchioness sitting in a breezy corner;
these aren't musicians found in a parade, they are peasants with colorful costumes...
soon someone will say," Alla manana, Segnora. " as the calm returns on the shore.   


4/16/2012


Details | Free verse | |

To Ever Young Spring

To Ever Young Spring

O enchanting flavor, of the beautiful Spring
Why you always look, so different to    me
Seasons come and seasons go, every year
But why only the Spring, enchants everyone

Why the mind get lost by the flavor of Spring
Even birds returns from their migrating hides
Why sweet sensations runs in human hearts
Why life began to look so different in Spring

Why the Koyal* keep on singing and singing
Why the smell of Mango buds creates thrills in mind
Where on earth this intoxicating wine is being made
Which sweeps away our mind and heart in Spring

And where in Nature the nectar of Spring is hidden
Which intoxicates humans, birds and even animals
Why in Spring,  images began to appear gradually
On the other wise sleeping, but turning pages of  life

The Butterflies are flying from the top of the flowers
To invite Black bee and others  to enjoy the Spring
What ever may be the stage of life in which, one may be
In the season of Spring only, one feels young and evergreen

Why my mind has started searching on its own
Sensing the dawn of the season of Spring near by
Why even in our life, we find some day that even in Spring
Even the enchanting fragrance too began to feign oneday

Why the mind cheated and illusion by seasons
Becomes anxious and began to feel young again 
By watching the new born leaves on every trees
And finding them dancing with breeze in Spring

Why the singing of Koyal’s * kuhoo*  kuhoo*
Leaves the impression of some anguish always
Silently the heart keeps on searching throughout the year
The grandeur and melody of the Spring singer

When the childhood has ever come back again
And when the youth has ever returned, once gone
Only on the pages of our memories and in our hearts
Their fragrance remain always alive and ever young


Ravindra

Kanpur India  2nd March 2010 


* Koyal .  A spring bird of India which sings mainly in Spring
   While setting on the Mango tree branches
* Kuhoo Kuhoo . the melody song of the Spring bird 
   Similar to that of the Nightangale of John Keats


Details | Rhyme | |

THAT PASSIONATE LOVE WHICH BLOOMS IN SPRING

Each one of us follows a specific quest,
and there many different ones;
for me it's that passionate love which blooms
in spring when rain becomes mist.


Watching roses drip as eyes that weep restores
the memory of that forgotten sadness
brought by a faithless love known too briefly
to discover the scope of its insincerity.  


Why didn't I believe in her fickle promise?
She only gazed at those radiant stars, 
as a true one wouldn't have to compromise 
the beautiful truth not stained with lies. 


Still waiting to feel that passionate
love which blooms in spring...
happy wagtails by the petal-draped lake,
gather to make their notes ring.


Besides velvet-soft kisses that I eagerly steal
from tempting lips seeking this man's warm hand,
what else could please me more than an indulgent will 
with that passionate love which blooms in spring?


Details | Haiku | |

Spring Festival

Harmoniously
With colors of the rainbow
Nature's choir sings


By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX


Details | Free verse | |

With Spring To Be


                                      when you see the sticks
                                            of leaf-less trees
                                                 across the backdrop
                                                    of moon-lit skies

                                     when you hear
                                           the robins distant ring
                                               sustained by winds afar_ _

                                                                          lay thy head
                                                                upon a pillows sleep.
                                                   with anxious thoughts awaken
                                                                of this spring that is to be


Details | Lyric | |

Spring Interlude

A breath 
Of fresh air
It’s there
Can you feel it? 
Resting 
Amongst the atmosphere 
A breath 
Of fresh air
I will still provide 
The sadness in tunes 
The gloominess 
Of days to come
But as of now
I’ll give you 
A breath 
Of fresh air
Liveliness 
Amongst the atmosphere
Can you feel it? 
It’s there


Details | I do not know? | |

wet spring morn

Windswept rain slaps the bottoms of leaves
as shiveringly they shed it
Grassroots shake and slake their thirst
and wave their blades together
Tightly closed tree buds stand tall
reaching upward fretly
Shaking yes but through it all
They hold together wetly
Branches wave their banners green
so many hues and shades and tints
Spring is here and she is seen
Dancing twixt the raindrops
Wild gypsy Wind she sings and swings
Her sylvan winged tambourines 
In rhythmic wetness witness
Of the joy she brings and flings