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Spring Romantic Poems | Spring Poems About Romantic

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

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Details | Couplet | |

Singing Blue Blazes

As the snowdrops nod happily when you kissed my soul warmly love
laughing in the cold spring air so stirringly beautiful flutters wings of a dove 
The daffodils yawn awakening to new life or so it seems 
sun beams smile inside a thousand songs sweetly my dream

Birds singing freely dawning tunes deep heartfelt desire  
you are amazing one faraway flame kissing beats on fire

Copyright © liam mcdaid

Details | Haiku | |

Spring Haiku

~Riot of Colors~
Life garlands cyclic blossoms 
Earth rejuvenates~

Traditional Haiku Contest – Debbie Guzzi
~awarded Honourable Mention~

Copyright © Chelsea Chords

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.

Copyright © Jemmy Farmer

Details | Rhyme | |


The finest day of spring
Petals dance on sudden gales
Counting everyone
Before the sinking sun
Fly, fly little wings
Like love that never fails
Shadows begin to wake
To a chorus that is the night
Crickets fiddle, slow
Warblers whistle, low
Shine, shine velvet moon
Till last you fade from sight
Hear the sea in song
Where the swallows play and die
Starlight in the haze
Flicker fireflies, ablaze
Stay, stay gentle dream
Beneath the candles in the sky

~ Luther Lynton Seahand ~

Copyright © Luther Seahand

Details | Haiku | |

Spring into Haiku

Smiling Sakura
blows kisses to Bush Warbler
Dreams of distant love

Copyright © Lily Twinkle

Details | Pantoum | |

On the love rock---

Waiting for you here on the love rock Plucking out petals, loves me, loves me not Life's for once, lets hold hands and walk A scarlet blush, for you, my face has got Plucking out petals, loves me, loves me not Lush green grass and swaying Zinnia flowers A scarlet blush, for you, my face has got A fluff of clouds hovering with spring showers Lush green grass and swaying Zinnia flowers Soft breeze teasing, ruffling my pink chiffon dress A fluff of clouds hovering with spring showers Butterfly and blossom's romantic caress Soft breeze teasing, ruffling my pink chiffon dress Feel of fingers through my hair, your gentle touch Butterfly and blossom's romantic caress With bated breath I wait, my heart's love is such Feel of fingers through my hair, your gentle touch Life's for once, lets hold hands and walk With bated breath I wait, my heart's love is such Waiting for you here on the love rock

Copyright © Yesha Shah

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 | Romanticism | |

Spring steam


That Spring that,
backs press hard about,
twenty toes mingle,
fingers too cold to caress those;
shifting hips

that Spring steam
that Spring tea…
and through the window,
that blazing Spring's morning sun,
beaming on her;
pink face

Copyright © James Peranteau

Details | Romanticism | |

She is like a Rose

She is like a sweet, smelling rose
blooming in the month of May.
Blooming with large, red peddles
sprawling and conquoring with beauty.
She is like a Spring Rose.

Her heart, like the rose is beautiful.
She stands there, blooming mad.
Her hair flowing, like the rose's peddles growing.
Standing tall and posterious, like the green, stern stem of the rose.
She is glorious and beautiful, just like the rose,
the sweet smiling rose, in the month of May.

Glorious and brave.
as the rain washes her peddles away,
and the gardener coming with his rusty clippers
to cut her away. I hold back and slowly burst to tears.
For I do not want to see my love go away.
But, like the rose she will grow and bloom once again.
And she will come back bigger, brighter and taller.

She is like the rose.
She is beautiful, like the May weather roses.
She is the red, ruby hearted rose,
that sparkles with the afternoon raindrops,
slowly dripping of the peddles.
She is like the rose, for every time I touch the rose,
I get stabbed by her pointy torns.

She is just like the May Rose.
Perfect for admiring, but not for touching.
She is like a rose.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski

Details | I do not know? | |


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

Copyright © Vee Bdosa

Details | Lyric | |

Spring and You

Lying in a verdant spring field,
scents of fruit and roses permeate the air;
thoughts of you are never far.
They caress like the sun's warm rays,
bringing a suffusion of joy to my heart.

The hum of occasional automobiles
blend with the drone of honey bees
lulling my senses like a Gregorian chant
in an Austrian monastery.

You and nature have become 
my tenants of religion,
calming my restless spirit;
soothing my soul, 
until I am a placid lake
soaking in all that is you.

Copyright © Jaycee Cervenka

Details | Haiku | |


the spring's warming wisp                                                                                           heats the summer blaze sunshine's                                                                               delicate first kiss

Copyright © John Beam

Details | Free verse | |

The Garden

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 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,
Warm nights,
Difficult frights,
Ecstatic times and unsystematic times!

But they mean nothing to me,
While I’m alone…

Walk with me through this garden.

Copyright © John Paluszek

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,


Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | I do not know? | |

Distant African Nights

Those Distant African Nights...


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.


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,


a fear gnawed at me,

deep within.


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.


You are long gone,

far away,

happy, I pray,

yet the memories persist,

those precious moments shall never, 

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,


and it is I who is not worthy,



You were always true,

it was I who always,


refused to,

to give myself,

completely to you.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Free verse | |

Hidden Love

Every town I rode through ,
People were talking about your loveliness .
The best painter thought day and night ,
but fear to complain the king's difficult question.

I have inquired the way thousands of miles carefully ,
and wrote letters home frequently .
I'm calculating when we would wake up to see the rainbow,
and when to listen to the spring rain in a painted boat .

I have heard the lake is holy and no one can profane .
Immortals guarding folks are living on the top of the jokul.
Flowers will rain on the lake when they bathe.
and then fade when they go back without dust.

The wall hundreds of feet seems so close to me ,
and I want to gallop in the spring field.

This is  my  first  poem translated from my Chinese rhyme .I don't know if there are many mistakes in it .Can U help me ? Thankyou .

Copyright © Turbid River

Details | I do not know? | |

The Swaying of the Grass



A path leads,

to where wild grass grows,


sashaying in the summer breeze.




Along the path,
lightness settles within,


feeling the grass,
tickling ankles,


swaying to the lilting bird-song,

in a dance of intimate abandon,


brushing the remnants of pain away.




Melodies float across fields of green,

delicately caressing my heart,


teasing emptiness to flee,

comforting the mind,


to silently be.




Walking on,
savouring the peace,


a momentary respite,
from the burdens of the now,


all is quiet,


a stillness cradling fractured emotions,


the grass in the fields sway,


dusk descends,


shadows lengthen,


nudging dimming light to take leave,


of the day

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | I do not know? | |

Your Whisper

You whispered in my ear,
a breathy secret, hushed.

“I love you”, you murmured.

I said nothing,
lost, in your arms,
I found a home. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
I said nothing,
lost in my thoughts,
I found peace. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
words failed me then.

They still do.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Rhyme | |

My Love for You, Loveliest Among All Things

My love for you
is like a rose,
a rose that blossoms
in the spring
Precious, graceful full
of depth,
Loveliest among all

It leaves me like
a gust of wind,
knowing who it’s
going to
Moving at a fiery
So it can quickly
get to you

Its trust is there
for you to see,
showing you that
it’s sincere
True affection
felt by me,
and it’s all for
you my dear

My love for you
is like a rose,
a rose that blossoms
in the spring
Precious, graceful full
of depth,
Loveliest among all

Copyright © Marquis MC Mills-Cooper

Details | Free verse | |

Its New Spring And Heavy Downpour

O good servant!
Bring the white mare, grazing in the pasture,
And saddle her;
Or take out the Ranger car, in the backyard 
Is  the thatched garage.
It’ new spring, and heavy downpour,
Call her to company me,
Order a tent with tables and toys, bedding and lighting,
And a countryside cook.
I am in great mood,
 I have to picnic, there,
In the country, by the bank of the brook,
I was teaching, some years back, the lovely poor children,
And loved it, and always had a feeling of joy.
Invite the poor country men 
And serve them tea, and some fast food.
Then in the thunders and rain
 I will dance and romance with her.
And then, watching the muddy water rolling the rocks and willows’ trunks
And bodies of animals dead,
I have to in lonely meditate,
Before a cheerless return.

Copyright © fayaz bhat

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Black Swan Love Song


There is an itching in my heart
I cannot scratch---
A raging rash ravaging through
The depth of my soul
A burning fire in my spirit
I cannot control
A teasing urging of mind 
Challenging the body to match;

As nature would have it
The winter of age has its season
That last for a while
Teaching the wisdom of her reason
Why spring comes with a smile:

 Bringing vigor to the tree,
 Moisture to the nest;
 With her eau de vie---
 Renewing old interest---

So when you hear the black swan singing
Its cooing song,
Know that love is about to run like a river
Meandering on;

Oh what a wonderful spring thing:
Arrows of silver for the golden quiver!

Copyright © millard lowe

Details | Rhyme | |

Spring Romance

As memories of ice and snow
Give way as balmy breezes blow
The passing of the Winter’s cold
Makes creatures seeking mates grow bold.

The toms begin to strut their stuff.
The hens, it seems, can’t get enough.
Thoughts of Thanksgiving are far away.
Right now the turkeys just want to play.

Robins, too, their time invest
In finding twigs to build their nest.
The male knows to take his cue
So she will lay those eggs so blue.

Amidst the flowers of odors sweet
There is the sound of little feet
From animals with proud white stripe
Whose odor’s more than strong and ripe.

And trees, who can not seek a mate,
Are not consigned to fruitless fate.
There is this matchmaker for them, you see
Known as the buzzing bumblebee.

So life begins again in Spring
As warmer weather, love does bring.
Winter’s face seems one of doom
Love’s renewal, in Spring will bloom.

Copyright © Michael Spangle