I heard the maytime robin sing
His merry voice has wakened spring;
Each golden note bursts forth to soar
Where sound and blossom now restore.
The drowsy earth sheds winter's rest
And all that slept find spring confessed
That radiant song that fills the air
Brings good news beyond compare.
The birds proclaim with joyful tune
The raptures of impatient June;
With potent scent the blooming flowers
Perfumes time with fragrant hours
A nest well hidden in a tree
Holds new life we can't yet see;
The crimson rose perfumes the gale
The virgin lily crowns the vale.
Where sun and shadows come to dwell
Seductive spring will cast her spell.
There, just beyond the door yard, she wanders
and I, hiding behind the curtain, catch glimpses
before she disappears up the avenue
that winds through the apple orchard.
Each morning I watch for her as she walks aimlessly.
Sometimes she steps across her previous step and spins,
dragging a broken branch she found,
and with her eyes closed---smiles.
On occasion she willingly falls, lying there,
still smiling and staring dreamlike at the branches
now laden with white blossoms and the busy humming of bees.
I wish I could know her thoughts--
but then, I fear they might be of some other love
instead of the wonder of this perfect spring day,
or, maybe she dreams of that love that she hasn't yet found.
Perhaps tomorrow I'll stroll---and say "Hello"?
I do not know?
The land still held in wint'ry grasp.
Against the chill my breath did rasp.
When for a moment my eyes did see,
A fair maiden dancing nakedly.
Nary a stitch nor thread on her wond'rous shape.
As she beckoned I could naught but gape.
When she spoke her voice was a melody,
Promising things that I only dreamed.
I went to her in bewildered awe,
And this is suddenly what I saw-
White roses tangled in her flaxen tresses,
A thousand poppies at her feet,
Fairies danced in diaphinous dresses,
With sunlight was the scene replete.
On she led o'er field and meadow.
Where she trod the spring would show.
With love and joy my heart did swell,
For this maiden had rescued me from winter's hell.
For hours we laughed and sang and such.
I would gasp and tremble at her every touch.
Not once did I think to inquire her name,
Nor did I ask from whence she came.
We rested at length 'neath a stately oak,
And this I found when I awoke-
Gone was my maiden and the spring she brought,
Frozen were the fields and meadows,
Simply a dream, or so I had thought,
Yet clasped in my hand, a single white rose.
I return each day to this lonely place,
Hoping to glimpse my fair maiden's face.
Low does the sun sink in the winter sky,
When I turn home with a tear in my eye.
For once again she has neglected to show,
And left me this wretched ice and snow.
Yet I musn't believe that she does not care,
Lest I should let my heart despair.
For she will return again one day,
Turning as she goes, December to May.
nature sings softly her lively recital
everything is glorious and looks vital
the swans exhibit courtship behavior
movements weary tiles for a spring paviour
thrushes chitter their earliest symphony
birdseed germinates and outspreads spring widely
two newts show a beautiful mating dance
strawberry plants use their early spring chance
a show of new born green just above the ground
alders pollen causing sneezing peoples' sound
few snowdrops, celandine, white dead nettle
and hazel trees show leaves and huge mettle
appetite dictates this walk with our dog
a craved annual entry in our blog
at length awaited while walking and watching
dozens of reasons for thinking and talking
the artificial Christmas tree just packed
the baubles and the glass peak safely wrapped
a large cup of hot chocolate a good mate
served forthwith stale Christmas cookies on a plate
. . . . . . .
pink laced branches
shimmer against the sun
petals in my lunch
by snow's runoff...
I roll up my jeans
silenced by cold water...
blue feet with red nails
reaching the meadow
discomfort is forgotten...
blisters on my heel
from wildflower pollen....
flannel sleeve hanky
reflect on sunglasses...
. . . . . . . . .
5/7/14 For Deb's Contest: "Spring Into Haiku
Lovely hued flowers adorn my sills, painting over winter's gloom
Budding blossoms, an abundant gift from earth's lavish garden
Spring has arrived in splendor; she is fully clad in fragrant bloom
An array of vivid petals wave to greet me through my open curtain
A banquet for my eyes until the azure skies gallantly darken
Fresh green scapes boldly beckon with promise of sunlit strolls
Winter's slumber has contained all of my audacious desires
The thaw of spring awakens passions welling in my soul
Brilliant butterflies flutter, pristine snowflakes try to aspire
As spring's budding romance is displayed, winter has expired
Melodies enchant the barren forests as leaves sprout in song
Trees sway to spring's beautiful music and burst with creation
Robin's nest caresses bright blue eggs on branches thick and strong
Graceful wings dance on the golden horizon, birds sing in elation
Nature embraced by the sun and earth, spring's miraculous sensation
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
Ninth place in English Quintain A Spring Day contest (Francine Roberts)
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, February 4, 2012
for Francine Robert's english quintain, a spring day contest
Winter days so cold and dreary
Cause the soul to grow weak and weary
Ice has covered all the trees
It seems we are in a deep freeze
But Spring is coming to the rescue
Bringing hope and life anew
Blossoms will soon cover the trees
In will come the tropic breeze
Then will come the butterflies
Fluttering as they beautify
Followed by the bumblebees
As birds sing happily in the trees
Winter soon will have to go
As Spring comes in with gentle kiss
Proclaiming to the cold and snow
That winter thusly is dismissed
1 - 20- 2013
The winter's been harsh, the winter's been long.
Still it's only march and I can't hear the song.
To have spring fever, you need to be a believer.
This winter's been harsh and this winter's been long.
Shovel's and sneezes are the call of the day.
Please hand me a kleenex, it's two month's until May.
We're out, well I guess I'll just use my sleeve or.
Man if I had my way I certainly wouldn't stay.
White winds wailing where weeds wait wondering.
If the God's will ever restart thier thundering.
Or if they have just slammed down the reciever.
In disgust of all of mankinds plundering.
Faith in the four season's is our only stronghold.
Waiting for the story of sping to still be told.
Hoping the book of knowledge is not a deciever.
Our spirit's are shaken and we dare not be too bold.
For the spring fever contest/ ballad
In the spring of my youth I was fleet of foot
Would run for miles just for the sheer joy of it
Late in spring the love of my life agreed to become my wife
Work and family slow me just a bit in the summer of my life,
Towards the fall of this life the fleetness began to wane
My gait began to slow a bit; this was not so difficult to explain
I had run too fast, ran too far, worked too hard and worked too long
A body that once knew no bounds was no longer young or strong
The winter of my life has arrived as a fierce storm that has left me chilling
My mind says to fight the fight but my body simply is no longer willing
Now the armchair beckons so much more than it ever has before
But now with some effort and my cane I can still hobble out the door
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