Oh, blossoms, waken! Here comes spring.
Each flower, raise your pretty face.
The sun and rain are here to bring
you sustenance. Bring us your grace!
Arise, dear Tulip, from your bed,
and show to us your every hue -
your purple, orange, pink and red.
Come, Violet, and show your blue!
Sweet Daffodil, come take your pose.
Your sunny smile is needed here
alongside precious fragrant Rose.
White Lily, shine your Easter cheer!
Now Kokopelli plays his tune.
Arise, fair blooms; your time comes soon!l
For the Flower Song Contest of Rick Parise
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
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
Spring Flower Song
Oh lovely Spring, at Winter’s end, you sing and dance
Within our waiting hearts as we look forward to
How nature’s Springtime’s palette will create romance
With beauty of your sprouting flowers born anew.
Sweet yellow Daffodil among the first, you bring
That sunny glow of rebirth to our waiting eyes,
Along with purple Iris, blue Scilla, you sing
And join the gold Forsythia neath sun-filled skies.
Pansy, Anemone and Crocus blossoms show
The longed-for beauty of our Springtime’s renewed site,
With varied pastel colors…and of course we know
The fuzzy Pussy Willow’s catkins will delight.
So very blessed we are with new life on our Earth,
As budding Spring fulfills her promise of rebirth.
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
Contest: Flower Song
Sponsor: Rick Parise
as the wind
within my soul
my poetic thirst
as the wild daisy
upon my face
I twist and turn
the springtime rain
to greet my heart
with each breath of beauty
as I impart
in crystal showers
as I fall back
to paint the day
from the rumbling clouds
I am taken away
as the wind
this poetic birth
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"
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.
A melody to soothe
The aching heart...
There will be no more
Lonely days or nights of
From each you must depart
Open your eyes,
There is is so much to see.
Look as her buds awake,
Rising from their sleepy beds
To make you smile,
To lift your spirits,
In the beautiful gardens
Allow your ears to hear
Spring's new melody.
A melody of love, to pamper
All that see.
Listen, birds are beginning to sing,
Forsythia spread joyous wings
Dressed all in spring's sunshine
singing songs of:
Spring’s buds stringing along mine
Spring’s wisp aches for;
"Goodbye, Winter" is a children's song, sung to the tune of "Frere Jacques".
Tulips in my backyard,
Tulips in my backyard,
Bonus activity: Take children outside for recess on an early spring day and sing this
song. Ask children how they know the seasons have changed and that spring has
arrived. Is the air warmer? The grass greener? Are flowers blooming? Are butterflies
Gazing out my window screen
I picture fields of gold.
Beholding sights so long unseen
and stories gone untold.
The wonders of Spring unfold.
Sunshine dripping from the sky
and falling on my shoulder.
Flowers giving another try
and squirrels growing bolder-
the earth's another year older.
Easter bonnets soon we'll wear
and dresses made of lace.
Ribbons and flowers in our hair
put smiles upon our face.
Of snow there's not a trace.
Sunshine fills the freshened air
while everyone's delighted.
Buds are blooming everywhere
and butterflies are sighted.
Winter's wrongs are righted!
for contest "Here Comes The Sun"
written Feb. 6th, 2014
Cry to me
oh frozen fortress
your darkened days
have found no end
my lonesome flower dove
for memories held
through fleeting wind
I call on spring
my warming bath
of crystal dawn
and colored strands
Oh play my song
in velvet hymn's
goes Winters cry
with joyous tears
This frozen Winter
no longer cries
and sultry love
within me lies
Play The Radio
Get Up And Dance All Night Long
Music Heals The Soul
I do not write in April, because that’s the month that comes before May.
I do not write in April, because then June would arrive in total disarray!
I do not write in April, now, although I have before this day.
I do not write in April, actually, although with words I’m known to play.
I do not write in April, when there’s ANZAC’s, Easter and Palm Sunday.
I do not write in April, and from that delicate decree I’ll not go astray.
I do not write in April, but exactly why, I can’t quite say.
I do not write in April, and it’s for the best, that here, I don’t betray.
I do not write in April, although I do read papers from my in-tray.
I do not write in April, so you won’t find any papers in my out-tray.
I do not write in April, when I’m outside whiling my time away.
I do not write in April, for that fills my insides with strange dismay!
I do not write in April, for I’ll not wear a wreath like a gloomy lay!
I do not write in April, but I’ll cheerfully whistle down your way.
I do not write in April come whatever, come what may.
I do not write in April. I do not write in April I say!
I do not write in April, but I’d gladly sing a song for Spring to stay.
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.
St. Stephen’s College.
I recall the cool light of the shortest days,
and the darkness of the longest nights;
I shivered under a blanket and that made dreams freeze,
even snowflakes hid stars to block their fading gleams!
I'll be thinking of the warmest sunshine,
smelling flowers that are all mine!
March is warmer than February as days get longer;
I shouldn't wait any longer, but be that dancer:
leaping on scented meadows strewn with poppies, bluebells and daisies...
while my cheeks feel the warmth of the September sun mixing with breeze!
I'll be thinking of the warmest sunshine,
dreaming of sunrises to opine!
I will invite the blue jays, the mockingbirds and the lively butterflies
to watch me dance...where's that blonde-haired boy who plays the flute?
I like to feel those golden sun rays as I felt them in the prime of my happy youth,
and isn't spring the pure essence of happiness that glows on a serene face?
Ill be thinking of the warmest sunshine,
observing lilies that climb and entwine!
Look, here comes the Spring
She warms and Winter thaws
The beauty of this amazing flower
She leaves this boy in awe
Those irresistible baby blues
He's picking up all my clues
Baby, I love your contagious smile
I think I'm falling fast for you
Yeah.. Here comes our Spring
You've put music into my heart
It's life and love and everything
Oh, I never want us to part
Cause Spring's where love belongs
And you're my flower song
When I am dead who will read
these little songs I sing
when thick the mould presses down
and darkness hides the spring?
My soul so filled with longing,
finds too short life’s little day
to fulfill a lover’s hunger
for earth’s beauteous bouquet.
I think my voice will shout aloud
although they say I’m dead,
and my mute heart will sing until
the grasses tremble overhead.
7:00 PM EDT
July 20, 2014
New birthed buds will yawn and stretch to
Parrot tulips bloom in early spring;
Liquid colors flow like cascading silk, across my garden.
Paper whites smile and soak up Mother Earths’ milk;
All is beautiful in this lush garden canvas
Birds provide a mellow concerto and titter-sweet notes,
dance on the scented air.
Cricket-chirp-symbols ring out with each stanza as,
Evening shadows flicker upon Gaia’s’ palette;
Crescendo on the dew-dusted air.
Here, among them all, I sit in contemplation.
I sense their elation;
Euphoria of spring-song consumes my spirit.
A life of beauty and happiness denied, of innocence
smothered like a flame, I have always lived; but when
I hear your lovely voice, my Lisa--
now I am free.
I was dead before I even entered into this world, a
place cruel and without feeling, cruel and without
the love and understanding I finally know in the rich
harmonies of your voice, my Lisa--
which sets me free.
Before I could even hope to bloom like a sensual
flower caught breathless and naked in the first, rainy
sunbeams of spring a great evil--the threatening,
inner hostility of a dark figure overflowing with
bigotry--transformed me into a joyless
waste of ashes.
From that terrible moment on I fought all the ugly
and horrible assaults as his unwilling possession, a
gladiator in the arena of his constant abuse and
myriad threats, subject to his occasional hostile
across the dinner table.
But when I hear your voice and imagine its tender-
ness and compassion as an unearned gift meant for
me despite him and my child-like self-loathing:
I feel the love and self-worth denied me, taken from
me simply because it was too easy to not rape from
a child whose only fault was that he was born
O Lisa! Because of the music of your lovely voice--
now I am free! Free from my years as a gladiator in
the arena of his constant abuse and attacks;
free to bloom like a sensual flower caught breathless
and naked in the first, rainy sunbeams
of Spring again!
SPRING IN AIR, LOVE ONLINE 20/02/13
Nowadays , life is so unpalatable and stoic.
So unnecessarily busy and eventfully hectic.
Young folks thus gather in a shadowy discotheque, to kill,
The retreating winter shedding its last chill.
The chirps of the departing migratory,
With massacred green in a concrete urban factory,
Welcomes the spring breeze, and the cuckoo melody tune,
That too so rare,
For a short term vacation, in a vanity fair.
Some emotional fools and roaming vagabond,
Can feel the spring air and reminiscences their fond,
And cry for the past and the long lost love bonds.
Beside them no one dares to mingle,
Their soul with the colour of butterfly twinkle.
No one cares to see the young green boughs,
Dancing in a frolic of crispy air that jingle.
All is there, in the air, except love my dear,
‘Cause love is now confined,
In another little world so secure.
Where there’s no hasty rushing,
No meaningless blushing,
No hassled waiting, no worrying restriction.
Love is just a ready-made parcel,
At a press of a small button.
Love messages, e mails , tweets, face books ,web cyberspace and profile update,
Takes all the bothering responsibility, does all the necessary tete-a-tete.
No need for time taking arguments,
No need for extra commitments.
Sometimes, meetings could be arranged, but
Oh! Never in public park or in a hopeless garden.
It could be in a shopping mall or a cool coffee den.
The gorgeous and the grotty,
All gather at a V-day party.
Those who are privileged,
Share their love with diamonds and wine.
But for others, not a single grape,
Is sour in a vine.
Everything is taken for granted,
Just simple and fine.
‘Cause love can also be shared,
Simply free of cost on line.
I’m a baby breath away from the season of dew
And eagerly I smell the thaw of winter’s way
Ravaging the sky my eyes find perfect hue
A rosy tint a lock of heavens door and quay
I hear the flower song of the woodsy bustling soil
And listen to her birth with rhythm and such thrill
A cup of newbie hope arrives and senses broil
A cup of eagerness just plops and plants me on a hill
I find the gate of paradise in flowers sweet n’ wet
And learn to loose the tie a bit for spring is on the bat
I hear the sigh of daisy pet, she truly does not fret
Unlike the scuffle I do hear, beneath the sheltered rat
The winter scurries fast along a foot away from here
While spring is clapping joyfully, for she is finally here…
Once upon a time in a new day dawning
In the crack of time between night and morning
Something caught me from yarning
It was sweet but felt like a warning
That death is night to life of a new day born in
This celebration of life beginning
The song bird took up their instruments and started singing
Awakening sleepers with a joyous springing
Ending their short death with a new up bringing
So sing little song bird
Every morning as the sun comes anew
Only recognized by the few
Flapping her wings in the dew
She’s that song bird
Cracking the dawn, she’s heard
What can she say? She’s just a bird
Can’t speak but you know her word
So sing little song bird sing
With your melody bring
The wind of nature in your wing
In your serenade there’s our fling
All I am saying
Is sing little song bird sing
First warm day
this nut-brown flavor
scurrying bits of life
no eye-charging breadth
There is a sharp denial of snow
an impossibility of winter
Deep within the ear
within the soul
Builders are busy
this almost sawdust
in the air
Time for rusty old things becoming new
‘neath the dirty snow
the cached store
water babes are bathing
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
Nature's song is best in spring
Beneath a Bradford pear
Grass wears it's earliest green
So begins my love affair
A gentle breeze caresses my skin
Honeysuckles delight my tongue
Days inside are growing thin
Winter's last song was sung
The clouds create paintings in the sky
As the sun plays peekaboo
A ladybug tickles the top of my thigh
Unique flowers begin to accrue
Wheat grass dances to the beat of the wind
Butterflies escape their cocoons
Fresh spring water, warm enough to swim
These are my favorite tunes
Song of Spring
Rejuvenate! It’s time of spring,
creation’s sweet rebirth.
And now we need not feel the cling
of gloom upon this earth.
It’s time for thankfulness. Rejoice;
in flowered meadows dance!
Praise God and lift a happy voice
with fellow celebrants.
Refresh yourself. Dip hands and toes
into a rushing rill.
Feel sun on skin as water flows,
and let your soul refill!
A time of reverence too. Recall
how Jesus paid the price
and gave his life to save us all,
the greatest sacrifice.
Reflect! Behold the blossomed trees.
Inhale the fragrance of
the lilac’s sprigs; hear drone of bees,
and ponder Christ’s great love.
A time to start anew. Revive!
Along each mountain slope,
the earth bathed green has come alive
with beauty, life, and hope.
for ten hour/ten day hymn/song contest by Deb
The time has come
Of wind and rain and sun
A world rich in embroidery
And sunlight pouring down on me
Hear the birds calling forth
With gladness, glee and mirth
All the flowing rivers and streams
The trees draped in garland leaves
Sweet, I breathe the pure air
Winter's ruin soon to disappear
O, the blessed harmony of Spring
The daisy and violet blooming flowers
I feel new life in everything
Hours can I dwell beneath the sky
The forest weaves endlessly her filigree
O, blessed is the whispering song of Spring
Written for the contest, Spring Is In The Air
Sponsored by Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver
Let us whisper you and I
In a dark little corner and no candle light.
W'll wait until dawn and watch the sunrise.
Then catch a gentle breeze or watch a fading star.
We pick some flowers and catch a butterfly
We cross a small stream, sparkling water
catches the corner of your eyes.
We make a sailing boat from paper then
write a little song.
Soon will be breakfast, then at dinner w'll say a prayer,
And at night time w'll light a fire, and then we retire.
It starts with a few birds in chorus
The liberated sun has warmed their feathers
Snow is mostly gone and
The ground looks muddy-warm
Grass and weeds – still lightly green - are rustled
by some faint lonely breeze escaped the jaws
Yes there is a song in the air
And if you listen closely its words –
might tell of a lusty God’s new love affair