I love it when Spring finally comes
The buds showing their little sprouts
Yes indeed from this seasons of four
I'm awake many sleeping plants shout
I love it when I walk through the parks
When these buds turn to a sea of green
Forgotten are the plants being so stark
This birthing season just has to be seen
I love it when I sit on the park benches
When the breeze caresses Sakura trees
The airs scented by their pinky blossoms
Mother nature and man in total agree
When I retire I'll grow a green thumb for
I love it when Spring finally comes
I love rain
It's a month now into spring
And still the rain pours down
Hey, is it ever going to end
There's many here that frown
They want the sunny weather
That will come soon enought
But right now, I'm enjoying it
Rain, I love the stuff.
Next week we're off on holiday
Now it really does rain there
And I'll love very bit of it
As it soaks up everywhere
To hear it's rhythm on the roof
It makes me feel so grand
Though many think that I am strange
They just don't understand
We don't get much rain in WA
So when it comes, for me
It makes me so excited
I guess it's how i be
So keep that rain a coming down
Let me feel it's soft, wet touch
I don't know what is wrong with me
But I love rain so much.
23 September 2013 @ 0624hrs
below the boughs...
waterfalls don't look like veils
but it’s a nice pic
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,
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.
I do not know?
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
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©
spring looks through
Wind swept prairie land
Across it's southern band
The buds of early spring
Bring new life to everything
The wind blows from the south
Melting snow at the rivers mouth
Grass turning from brown to green
The prairies a pretty scene
Crows arrive from their long flight
They caw in the early morning light
The gentle falling rain
Melts the snow once again
the suns radiant rays
Shines brightly through the day
Spring has arrived once more
On the Sask. prairie floor.
pink-petal ripples -
delicate blossoms graze
The night air is cool and collective,
Running through my hair and face.
Even when I’m with people, I feel alone
In this cold blooded space.
It’s like walking through a garden
Of all your favorite foods,
But none of which can substantiate
For that one so special mood…
that beautiful frame of mind.
I only go there with you,
And only you can make it unwind.
I discovered a passion unlike any other
And in my finding I opened a world,
A world I did not know existed.
I’m on cloud nine every time I think of you,
Just the thought of you brings joy to my heart.
This garden holds many beautiful things
Many delightful pleasures,
Many cold nights,
Ecstatic times and unsystematic times!
But they mean nothing to me,
While I’m alone…
Walk with me through this garden.
What's go great about New Orleans, Louisiana, is that of its jazz music and its voodoo culture. The city has been known as "The Big Easy" since the 1800s. It seems that all of the tourists from across the United States have considered New Orleans their favorite vacation spot. There's always a Mardi Gras every day, we've got people throwing beads at each other, jazz musicians playing their instruments (the saxophones, trumpets, etc.), and people dress in costumes every single day. But what's so great about New Orleans, Louisiana, most of all is that when spring breakers come to the city for spring break, even when they're still going to college. Everybody knows that the Big Easy is also known for its Cajun cooking, especially when the chefs are known for making a lot of jambalaya, gumbo, and a lot of Cajun foods. And what's so great about New Orleans, Louisiana, is when MTV was there, especially when the MTV network executives had been recording episodes of "The Real World:" one back in 2000, the other was back in 2010. New Orleans, Louisiana, is the strongest city in America, even though it was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina back in August 2005. But the famous street best known by New Orleans, Louisiana, most of all is the French Quarter and and one of New Orleans' favorite landmarks is the St. Louis Cathedral. And the New Orleans Arena and the Louisiana Superdome are home to the New Orleans Hornets (NBA-National Basketball Association) and the New Orleans Saints (NFL-National football League). Even the late Louis Armstrong was from the city. Well, I hope to go to New Orleans, Louisiana, one day. And if the City of New Orleans were to stay on the map for a long time, it's going to be like a Mardi Gras on a Saturday night and Fat Tuesday in the afternoon.
A playful brant swam on the pollen-dabbed lake.
A dipper perched on a dog-wood tree so dazzling and aromatic,
he neither decided to stay nor go although his companions were gone;
he had a white head and gray wings feeling a bit too romantic...
seeking through green branches a lonely warbler hidden in a cosy place,
and there he hoped to confide his dreams while he turned artistic.
A restless bittens
searched the tall, sun-dried reeds
of a river not so calm...
did she find some food like bluegill,
not to make her stomach growl?
She kept on searching 'till dusk!
A tawhee snoozed on the smallest spruce...
waiting for the evening to fall.
Written by Andrew Crisci
for Constance La France's contest,
" For ( Four ) Beautiful Birds "
May 12, 2011
A stroll that revealed an undiscovered spot
A playful brant swam on the pollen-dabbed lake...
oh, she was greeted by a thousands blossoms!
A dipper perched on a dog-wood tree so dazzling and aromatic,
was undecided to stay or fly alone as if all his companions were gone...
he a white head and gray wings feeling a bit too so romantic,
seeking through green branches a lonely warbler hidden in a cool place
to of being in a athmosphere so idylic
no parking lines,I think-
'neath the Japanese cherry,
blossom petals yellow,pink
gray sky yawning
clouds that drench
the deep green ground
Beauty is nothing; nothing if not spring,
flora shooting, oozing to cover bare
earth that winter spent, stripped; now gives green.
New life God has planted, planned with care
and bathed the globe with rains, spare and clean.
The air, great gasps of spring; the springing air,
blossom of peach and pear, scents fresh and keen.
Wonders of wonder all are flaxen fair.
Praise gifts, which bring this juice, bring us this joy.
Praise gifts of face found and fine wildflowers.
Praise gifts, and praise our debt for springtime’s cloy-
breadth of earth’s wild bounty, it is ours.
Praise gifts of song, for songbirds on bright wing.
Renewing life; Oh! Praise our gifted spring.
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!
The spring is wilting, it's leaves of veins slit red and makeshift graves where truth once layed upon a bed of roses.
Those roses whose shoots once rose, through ashes of adversity now show no signs that the roots are even there; the blood has drowned it everywhere.
The petals are burning through the smog, which strangles voices in it's fog; the vegetation doesn't grow, it bellows in pain as the rockets rain another day.
The spring is wilting, the summer's doubtful if it comes. All time is ending; and no ears can hear a sound. The fires suffocate it all.
The glimmer of truth still skies the hope but still the peasants die; there isn't time to mourn their passing for here come yet more rockets from the sky.
Will there ever be a summer?
To the martyrs and innocents killed in Libya, Syria and Bahrain. Let us pray your deaths were not in vain and that the world will see a summer come again.
in Eve’s garden
even more gentler
I drove by fields of daffodils on my way to town today.
The golden heads were bobbing as they brightened up the way.
The tulips that will follow next, are just a bit too late.
The daffodils will linger, they do not mind the wait.
In April, my loved valley is a tourist destination.
They’ve come to join the tulip tour, the largest in the nation.
The tulip fields are dazzling, in a multitude of hues.
Some blooms are picked and bundled for their avid fans to choose.
My home is in the center of this floriferous profusion.
Hundreds of thousand visitors before the tour’s conclusion.
Along the roads and highways, each yard is on display.
My gardens too are at their best in finest spring array.
Early snowdrops and spring crocus have already come and gone.
Lilacs, Camellias, Rhododendrons are just now coming on.
Japanese Cherries and others are all dressed in delicate pink.
A multitude of vibrant perennials will open in a blink.
If you could fly over and look down at my colorful countryside,
You would think I lived in Eden, in such beauty I abide.
Which one of these seasons
say it all?
It's all about the birds
It's all about the bees
It's all about the flowers
and all about the trees.
God made Spring
for many reasons.
Because of Spring
this is the season.....
We wake up to cool weather
on a beautiful Spring morning.
All of a sudden there's rain
it seems without any warning.
The flowers are beautiful
as they began to bloom.
The pollen fills the air
sometimes a little bit too soon.
The grass begins to grow
as Easter time draws near.
Look at all the clovers,
again only this time of year.
Many plant their gardens
for the freshest food to eat.
The garden tends to grow good food
whil the rain, soil and sun compete.
So see, things work hand in hand
and happen for a reason.
That's why Spring
ends up being a beautiful season !
Through the fluttering buds, pregnant with
Colourful blossoms in their child green
Cuccoons. Sunlight filters, flittering in a
Mid-afternoon breeze. It carries the scent of
Ocean tides on featherlight wings.
A spiders web, moist with dew, draws the light between
It's gossamer thighs to refract translucent
Rainbows across quartz crystal strands
To make Love to the rising sun in sweeping
Unison as La Luna; billowing in her silver gown
Shall be the equinox's first and most beautiful
Rite of passage through the seasons.
If streets had beats,
Ours would be steady,
Diversity beautifies Mt. Airy,
The veins of life are blue and bright;
Nature revives our lives,
The grace of spring arrives,
I hear the children at play,
Today is pleasant,
Today is positive,
I feel so alive.
Whistling breeze, a pleasing song so dear to me
The sunlit drops dancing upon warm cobble streets
Dancing sakura so pink and pure of a snow below
Small creatures gliding across the pastures beside me
A perfect day to begin a song filled melodic spring
there's a place with a river pure,
of this I'm certain and sure;
growing there,in its midst,a tree
each leaf,to cure,eternally
Wind swept prairie land
Against all elements you stand
The sun shone brightly on this spring day
Bringing forth the early buds of May
This wondrous season, time of rebirth
Snow disappears from mother earth
Crocus and tulips are beginning to rise
Covering the earth before our eyes
Birds are arriving from the south
Ice is melting at the rivers mouth
Rabbits shed their coat of white
Days are longer giving more light
Waters rise high and rush away
On this warm spring like day
Grass is turning from brown to green
Adding color to make a picturesque scene
Trees full of buds and seeds
Spring is in the prairies , yes indeed.
The meadows along the mountainsides
In glorious flowery bloom
Colours oozing, insects buzzing
Out the window of my front room
The chirping sounds of the birds
Orchestral voices on the wing
What a joy to hear them sing
To the left i hear spring waters
It's trickle has become a flow
The winter has come and gone
As the sun melts the virgin snow
The vista of crisp blue sky
Quilts the scenes above
Whilst a bird of peace coos
A most brilliant white young dove
If you live beside a mountain
Please take the time to view
No better array of nature reborn
By her grace, it's for me and you
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.
I do not know?
The snow is melting on the ground and winters chill is past.
The trees are coming back to life!The sky? still overcast!
The animals are stirring from their Winter's tranquil rest,
The birds are hidden-still (poor things) but soon they'll build a nest.
The lakes have lost their frozen caps, (the streams and rivers, too)
And soon I'll look up to the sky and see it's brilliant blue.
And as I step upon the ground with it's coat so very cold,
I stop to ponder on my walk, why Winter should be so bold.
I think about our Spring (now due) and hope its beauty is nigh,
For when our winter sheds it's coat the earth will soon be dry,
For when our winter sheds it's coat it's beauty makes me sigh.