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Spring Tree Poems | Spring Poems About Tree

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

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Details | Sonnet | |

A Bed of Pink Petals

One April day when spring was in the air,
I stepped outside so I might relish it.
I came upon a cherry tree so fair,
beneath its limbs I was enticed to sit.

I fell to sleep inhaling fragrant bliss -
the vision of the tree still in my brain.
I dreamed one sweet, pink petal, like a kiss,
fell on my cheek, and soon there was a rain. . . 

A rain of lovely silken blossoms! Then
they softly made a pile upon the ground.
Warm wind embraced me; that’s the moment when 
I woke to pink resplendence all around!

Upon a bed of petals I then lay.
Inside a dream I had no need to stay!


Details | Ballade | |

Walking by the river

Walking by the river.

It was that kind of day
With the Spring Sun soft and warm
There was a kind of energy
That moved within my form
I could have walked the whole day long
As I felt me, natures pull
Oh Lord those river trails are beautiful.

I passed a group of roos
Who were grazing by the river
Some Parrots screeched above my head
And set my heart a quiver
And as those creatures gave their calls
A Kookaburra laughed
Oh how I love to walk that river path.

It was that kind of day
That you’d like to last for years
With the country air rich in my lungs
And my mind all calm and clear
I could have walked until I dropped
Along that river trail
Feeling good and living in the now.

16 September 2004


Details | Quintain (English) | |

BRIDAL DRESS FOR THE HAWTHORN TREE

BRIDAL   DRESS FOR THE HAWTHORN TREE

In  the  church  garden   fair,
One glorious  May day  near the ides  -
Blossom  on  gown  and   hair
Flowing,  floating  down her sides,	 
Bosom  and  bouquet  -  the    bride’s

Glowing  in  the  warm  spring embrace
Of  her  golden groom.   She  flowers
With bloom on her cheeks and  face;
Then,    in  light   petalled  showers,
She fills the wood’s fragrant bowers:

Blossom-confetti  litters and turns 
To white the  path through  her roots  unseen.
Then  the hawthorn  tree   returns   
Again  to  her everyday working green  -
From her role as May  Queen.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . .

NOTE

The hawthorn tree in bloom with white flowers in spring is a beautiful 
sight, but lasts only a short time,  like a wedding celebration.  
Hawthorn trees are known as May trees, and they appear in the proverb  
“Cast ne’er a clout till May is out.”  Many people think this means 
you must  keep wearing winter clothers till the end of the month of May,  
but it really means until the May tree’s blossom-flowers  are  out.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Written by Sydney Peck   2  February  2012
Entered in  Francine Roberts's  Contest  "English quintain a spring day" 





Details | Dramatic monologue | |

For HGarvey Daniel, Esquire

You should have seen this tree before the winter came
Before the sun broke faith with its suckling leaves
Before the heavy ice of time sagged its limbs
Before its roots were singe in a frigid flame.
Did you know HG Daniel then, did you walk with him
Through spring and hear him sing of his king
Did he teach you "the elements of survival," when Eden
Closed its gate on us did he tell you its lore
And make you long for earth's long lost heaven
Though he struggles "not a man as before"?
I knew this tree when spring was a leaf of tongue
And poets sip the nectar of imagination young
I read him in rhyme and works of tribute
To fair Barbara and other members of the soup
Before the strokes, his loss of wife, and the loop
Of pall upon his hand with which he paint his love.
He is a noble tree, a great one in our forest of rhymes
A brother in arms of faith, a comrade, a friend
I send him prayers today, and wait for yours to come
This tree still from autumn mist a few fruit holds
Of friendship, love, and loyalty to the babbling scrolls.


Details | Verse | |

Wildflowers

Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
 She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell     then came the ice, this went on for months.

The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
 I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.

They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves.  Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
 
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday. 
as they were called WEEDS ..
 The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.

However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .

The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
 Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
  She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB


Details | Ballad | |

Ode to a Cherry Tree

Peering through plate glass at a puzzling view, In the midst of hot coffee’s morning ritual brew. Staring out with amazement and wonderfully struck, By our Cherry Tree’s overnight sensation run amuck! By nature’s own standard, cruel joke she has played, Million blossoms wide open one February day. This juvenile sapling knows not what it feels, Sprouting vivid Pink colors, the show it now steals. From those all around laying dormant in state, Expecting nature’s cue to blossom their own petals awake. And by then poor young cherry will have muted her splash, Replaced by green leaves summer storms will soon thrash. But alas all this splendor making warm visual sense, In the short time required for fresh java to dispense. Tomorrow I’ll once again observe through plate glass, The wonders waiting just beyond cold winter’s Rye Grass. Submitted to Giorgio A. V. Contest themed: Impress me with a small poem II! 1) user name: wedge 2) choice of motif: nature


Details | Free verse | |

like diamonds


two hits and i’m hanging off cliffs, listening to water

drip.

watching moss fall like snowflakes.

nothing holding my heels down but gravity, irrelevant to me.

the little girl exploring the ocean floor, the caves that once held entrancing treasures.

even tactile pain drives me into a gust of euphoria.

my heart beats (slower than it should), but the trees don’t mind.

the four shades of green blend to create a forest-

with each exhale, branches move in tandem.

and a salty tear falls from my eye,

reminiscent of what once was here.


Details | Free verse | |

The Backside of Killington Mountain

Killington Mountain, one of the largest Ski resorts in New England.
With its webbing of trails, dotted with colourful kaleidioscopic ski outfits;
racing to the Castle they call a Base Lodge.

My Cabin is atop a mountain across two valleys from Killington's backside
I can see the untamed, wild and free side of Mother Nature's: True being
Where deers have no fears, and the Bald Eagle soars Free

I once did a recue mission there, and when all were safe, I walked
Into the forrest of Nature,where mankind had never before intruded
I walked where the Deer, Bed. where the eaglets squawked for food

I saw the Black Bear awake; "Good Morning Mrs. Black Bear"she Yawned
And walked away.I heard the Evergreens giggle as melting snow ticked Pines
The Serenity,Tranquility,enveloped me in Nature's Wonder of the World.
      Inspired by Linda(PD) with her Contest: 7 Wonders of the Ancient and
                     New World. This POEM is one of my 7 Wonders.
This is Dedicated to all POETS who have written about the Autrocitys of 
Mankind to "  Nature or THE Beauty of Mother Nature in Rhyme "
                           This is not a Contest Entree


Details | Quatrain | |

Memories On Branches

An old board and a rope had made me a swing,
Sitting there when I was around the age of nine,
I curiously looked up to see the first sign of spring,
Where a robin was building a nest of twigs entwined.

Summer's heat burned my shoulders, so I sought shade,
I climbed up into your strong arms at the age of fourteen,
Along with a book, I relaxed in a solitude no one could invade,
I found myself lost within the pages and the leaves of green.

On a lazy, autumn afternoon, at the age of twenty-three,
I raked the dead leaves that buried my feet into a pile,
Through the orange limbs my black cat peered down at me,
Then leapt from the tree to play among the leaves for awhile.

Now, as I am rapidly approaching the age of thirty-one,
Branches are encased in ice, as winter continues to unfold,
From my window, I see the cardinals and the disappearing sun,
Reminding me that life still survives in the bitter cold.





March, 7th, 2014

Gail Angel Doyle's contest - "Memories On Branches"


Details | Verse | |

Red Tulips

Under a tree of wet blossoms, shimmering to life in the sun, one honey bee is circling around two burly men, who wave it off,  with childlike dramatics...arms flailing.   One of them, wearing heavy leather boots, leaves his deep imprints in the grass, still wet from yesterday's storm.  I wince, as the toe of his left boot squashes a purple pansy that is growing along the border. Oh dear, her prized flowers,....they are like her babies!  She has always had the greenest, thumb..and the prettiest yard on the block!
                                             
a white blossom                         rush hour traffic...              a crushed pansy
lands on her shoulder....          bees circle the tree            still beautiful in my palm...
a goodbye gesture                     droning with noise              lines in her face

 Both men seem irritated, and anxious to get on the road, as they stand next to the giant truck, which is parked against the curb. The shorter man, nurtures a butt of a cigarette between gloved fingers with such intensity, it's as if he were sentenced to be hanged at noon, and this was a final puff.  He inhales deeply, then, after a careless toss of the stub,  they both climb aboard, into the cab, and squeeze their husky frames into the cab, like two coiled Slinkys , ready to spring into action.   They start up the engine, and trails of cigarette smoke are left to mingle with cloud-white petals, that drift from the tree.

smoke spirals up         from a spent cigarette......    truck coughs black exhaust

two nosy neighbors     watch from dark windows.... crows gather on grapevine

The moving van,... a huge, battered dinosaur, wearing a big red proclamation, "TWO BROTHERS-VAN AND STORAGE",...  looks so out of place, parked along my street. I begin to feel it vibrate the sidewalk and it deafens our ears.  Slowly, it begins to roll, and we watch, as it lazily, lumbers down the familiar street.  It turns the corner, and disappears out of sight. I lean over to grab her hand, and she is crying  
and I find myself breaking the promise not to.

muddy truck tires....                                                                     
parallel stripes                      
follow from behind                   

I suppose it shouldn't matter to me now, but can't resist, and lean down to pick up the discarded, lifeless cigarette butt, and walk it over next door, to the trash can,  that still waits for Thursday's pick-up.  I blow my nose and dry my eyes.  It won't help her, if she sees me fall apart.

I remember the day she moved in, over twenty years ago.  
We were strangers then, ...but sisters we became.
Now it seems all those years are packaged up inside those cardboard boxes, wrapped in newsprint, taped shut, now moving on to another state,  to somewhere I don't belong.
Her husband gently clears his throat, as he patiently waits by their car,  giving her one last moment.
Her eyes glisten with tears.  Mine sting too...but I had promised I wouldn't cry...so I am biting my bottom lip. A quick hug..   "Yes...we'll write...we'll visit...we'll call!   
Soon!   I promise,.........soon!"
She hands me a box of tulip bulbs.  "These are the red ones... the ones you loved so much, something to remember me by."...  I want to plant some in the new place, but have been saving some for you too"...
"Next year when they bloom, think of me, will you? A part of me to keep you company."
She walks to her packed car, turns once more with that familiar smile, the same little wave, that she gave me on that very first morning, as she stood at her mailbox.  She jumps in next to her waiting husband. He starts the engine, and soon their car is heading down the street, that is no longer her street. Around the turn at the corner, that is no longer her corner
    Tomorrow the SOLD sign comes down.  
Perhaps a new wave, another smile, someone gathering mail ...will brighten my day.          
But today, .....I will plant some tulips.

my garden awakes                                         coffee brings comfort
from muddy slumber....                              sipped from her favorite cup ... 
 lively red tulips                                                 my cat for company




____________________________________________________________
For Deb's Contest: Spring haibun


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Sonnet | |

Seasons 2 - A Metamorph

 Trees  in silent strength stand  bare
Yet in their silence dwells  the hope of spring
Though  winter keeps  them in  its  icy glare

Desolate landscapes  bare the scars of winter's sting
 And hardly a creature utters  a sound
 Yet in their silence dwells the hope of spring

Days are  bleak with gray skies all around
While icicles  hang from window sills
 And hardly  a creature utters a sound

As life stands  still in winter's chill
Those sunny days  are hard to find
While  icicles hang from window sills

Cold winds blow with storms that blind
But the hope of spring does not decline
Those sunny days are  hard to find

As weary creatures look for a sign
Trees  in silent strength stand bare
But the hope of spring does not decline
Though winter keeps them in its icy glare
                                 ~~

 Trees stand in frozen quietude
Abiding yet in the promise of spring
While  winter plays a frosty interlude
As cold winds sends snowflakes swirling

Animals tucked away in their dens
Silently await springs arrival
But they must endure until then
To assure their survival

Soon spring blossoms will appear
Birds will flit from tree to tree and sing
Butterflies will dance on flowers fair
Abiding in the joy of spring

All those gray skies turn to blue
As springtime  comes with morning dew


Details | Verse | |

The Tree and I

The Tree and I 

I met a tree today while walking under cloud ridden skies.  She was a young oak past her sapling age.  Her bare branches, still in winters hold, stood stark against an evergreen backdrop.  I felt her loneliness seep into my being, so I slipped over and gave her a hug.  I whispered to her, “I know lonely too”, and heard an audible sigh within her wind swept branches.

a young oak
stands bare in winter's keeping---
brown carpeted ground


After a length of time, undetermined, I slid to the ground and leaned against her trunk.  I was content to keep her company for a short time on such a dreary day. Nowhere else did I need to be.  No one else did I need to see. So, I leaned my head gently against her rough bark and as we both shared a quiet moment of contemplations. 

a woman sits
at the base of a tree---
cloud laden sky

Eventually I felt the cold and damp seeping into my skin and I shivered. The young oak felt this and spoke to the breeze in her highest limbs. She asked it to blow the clouds from the face of the sun so that we could both enjoy the warm rays… and so it was that we were both sun kissed on this early morning day. 

clouds drift
away from the sun---
a girl smiles

This soon became a daily ritual, loneliness drifting away with each visit. She listened to me, as I listened to her, and time flew more quickly by.  Spring arrived before we knew it as the young oak beamed with her new buds. It seemed our visits now became less lonely, filled as we were with the awakening of Mother Earth. 

new buds
on a young oak---
birds singing

I shared with her and her with me, throughout the winter’s days. We laughed together and wept together during the longest of lackluster days.  A friendship formed of kindred spirits that helped chase the blues away.  With spring’s awakening, our confidence gaining, we rejoice in the birth of each new day.    

green grass
returns to the lawn---
daffodils bloom



All Rights Reserved @ Debra Squyres 2013
Form:  haibun  (mixture of prose and haiku)


Details | Haiku | |

Cherry Blossoms Jamboree

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


Details | Haiku | |

cherry blossom haiku

short life of beauty.
   sign of spring like robin's chest-
       blooms deep pink to white.





written 4/13/2013


Details | Haiku | |

A Flower on a Branch

A flower petal

Blossom on a long tree branch

With a bright color


Details | Haiku | |

Cherry Blossoms Bee

Cherry blossoms call, beckon nature's majesty-- and the humble bee.


Details | Lay | |

THE TRANSMOGRIFICATION OF THE UNICORN IN THE WARLOCK S GARDEN

THE TRANSMOGRIFICATION OF THE UNICORN IN THE WARLOCK’S GARDEN
Sabien, Sr. gathers his weapons to join his son. In his quest to depart knowledge, he must be the wise one. His son heard him speak that Sabien, II was the Unicorn in the Warlock’s Garden. Sabien, II slept silently amongst the flowers and the trees. Thus far, he had not been transmuted. His father promises his faith. He would change him into a much grandeur state. As the night became day, Sabien, Sr. finds all the herbs that will be needed for transmogrification. He begins to fulfill his promise. He will sup with the Unicorn. At eleven-thirty a.m., Sabien, Sr. beacons for the Unicorn who was patiently waiting under his favorite tree. He responded by entering the Warlock’s Vicinity. The feast started at noon with drink, meats, breads, berries, and so much more. The Unicorn spoke to his father. He was not aware of his metamorphosis. He had transformed to his human image, which is Sabien Allegra Baldwin, II. The splendor of glory shows his father to be a powerful Warlock. Magnificent are both in their opulence. Sabien, Sr. speaks and proclaims his son as the next Warlock. Sabien, II recognizes himself as a young man. He stands and accepts his position as the Warlock’s Apprentice. They embraced militantly and voiced their creed… Our spirits must be with the heavens and terrain. Our focus is terrestrial. This is our garden that we must protect. A superfluous and superlative existence we have. Sabien, Sr. speaks, “The revelation of your crossing, Sabien, II, is superb. You came, as I knew you would.” __________________________________| PENNED JULY 15, 2014. (For the first part, please read the Unicorn in the Warlock's Garden!)


Details | Haiku | |

Sakura mountain

a mountain bouquet                                                                                              cherry dias spring from green                                                                          blossoming color


Details | Haiku | |

springtime green

morning air still crisp
sun tickles the early buds
soon all will be green


Details | Kimo | |

shafts of light

shafts of light among taller, barren trunks
dogwoods  blossom, a herald
as the woods come to life

kimo, May 30, 2014


Details | I do not know? | |

ENTHUSIASTIC

Oh! pretty nature
This is eye-catcher
On the wet, wet grass
There were few dew drops
Shelly and I
Reeling, in pleasure
Selling, our leisure
Rolling, in great measure
This is big pleasure
O, I love this season
It's spring,
This is the reason...


Details | Free verse | |

Window

In one corner of my room,
That is shaped like a tomb,
There is a window, where I sit
And see my world through it.

I see the rising sun,
I see the melting dew,
I see the blooming flowers,
I see the sky’s changing hues.

Through it
I embrace the fading sun,
I live the joyous rains,
I feel the flowery fragrance,
I walk those lonely ways.

Through it
I float with the summer clouds,
I breathe the winter breeze,
I touch the autumn leaves,
I celebrate the cuckoo’s springtime songs.

Through the window,
I see my world.
Neither the autumn leaves,
Nor the springtime songs;
Neither the winter sunshine,
Nor the summer rains;
Would have been great
Had it not been through my window rails.

Through my window,
I see the world.
In the window, lies the entire bliss;
Beyond the window is only an illusion.

Suyash Saxena


Details | Free verse | |

Summer Here Again


When I hear the tweets of songbirds at dawn
Nesting in the oak tree outside my door
I smile at the sun shining on my face

A red bird scours the brown grass 
Blue birds skeeter on tree branches above 
Squirrels run up treetops scampering nearby

There's more fun in spring than wintertime 
Tree frogs start to sing songs of joy at night 
Fireflies lit the darkness as they mate

When I hear spring back, summer is coming 
Hot beaches call my name to the ocean 
Hot sand between my toes makes me holler

As I run for the shorelines' cool water 
I dance my jig retreating from high waves 
That reached my tighs quickly pulling me in

When I hear tweets of songbirds at dawn 
I warmly smile at yesteryear
Hoping for another day to make fun memories 

By Barbara Washington 3/9/2012©


Details | Haiku | |

Lessons From The Leaves and The Tree I

Lessons From The Leaves and The Tree I
( Life's Journey)


Life was beautiful
for all the leaves in the tree
in spring and summer

They flourished and bloomed
under the warm summer sun
and sweetest spring rain

Their color brightened
to a lovely shade of green
that glowed with beauty

Flowering blossoms
from the buds of the fruit tree
brought joy and delight

Little birds would peck
as they sit on the branches
on the lush green leaves

It was the best time
of their lives atop the tree
filled with happiness

But life has seasons
that never stay all the time
they come and they go

Spring and summer passed
autumn came and its cold winds
changing all the leaves

Turning their color
from bright green to brown and red
yellow and orange

Their brightness faded
their loveliness spent and gone
making them pale and weak

How seasons changed them
tempering all their nature
through adversities

Winter will arrive soon
and do her task of sweeping
the bough of the tree

The faded leaves will go
and leave the tree to herself
to make room for spring

When new leaves will grow
to replace those that have gone
in the cold winter

In such a lifetime
they have gone through all seasons
in smooth and rough times

That is how life goes
for all the leaves in the trees
in the cycle of life


Details | Rhyme | |

Fall

Fall 
Falling, loosing solid footing of the solid ground, 
I look out of the window and see a tree.
It’s a marvelous sight to see, a rarity longing to be found.
It had a strong trunk with beautiful green leaves.

The days came and went as I would look upon it every day for inspiration.
One day I saw the leave changed to many different colors, from amber oranges to yellows and reds.
Yet it stood there with full aspirations.
I saw as the seasons took away its beauty, leaving it looking half dead.

I would pass by the window and see the tree in the mists of blizzards of snow,
The tree’s beauty was taken away and now it’s tortured by ice cold winds.
And yet it stands firm against the fury of winter that is bestowed.
It stands there unwavering, waiting for the end.

The months go by as the torture does its worst.
Until one morning, a leaf sprung out.
The days passed and more leaves appeared like a magical burst.
Tree kept its faith through the worst without any doubt. 

I came to realize there is much to learn from the beautiful tree.
Just because we fall, doesn’t mean we have lost. 
Like the tree when we are stripped of our beautiful achievements and successes me mustn’t flee.
Stand firm and fight through at all cost.

For the warmth of success will soon come and mend your heart that is broken.
Collect yourself and begin to spring forward and onward,
Because a fall doesn’t mean that it is the end,
But a beginning waiting to spring out. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Old Walking Stick

There are no months as beautiful as early summer months wild flowers make the headlines,
Leaning heavy on my old worn hazel wood stick walking to a wooded meadow out of breath,
Clusters of Primrose and large patches of Blue Bells chat with clumps of Spring Violets,
As I stand wheezing the wonderful smells the dampness of wood and flowers give me air.

Lesser Celandine flowers between March and May heart shaped leaves a glistening yellow,
Now feeling a little better my head lifts the top of some large trees seem so far away,
The Cuckoo flower has leaves deeply toothed with spear stems, shows off all its beauty.
The kindle under my gentle walking cracks loudly so the meadow and trees know I am here. 

There is a second spring in the forest wooded meadow Snowy Mespilas with white flowers,
It reminds me of winter snow I once enjoyed these days my legs are not what they were,
The tree of heaven spreads climbing sixty feet and the Alder with soft purple catkins,
Leaning on a tree happy to be here with warm sun finding its way through high branches.
 
Hedgerows dress in the same vernal-looking hue and a Chipmunk darts across a small field,
The Chipmunk runs up the side of a nearby tree if he new me well he would not run away,  
Thick scented heather lives on the moorlands side by side with an evergreen Bog Rosemary,
A furry little face high up on a branch is watching me in the same way I am watching him.

A Judas tree with round leaves clusters of magenta, pea like flowers greet me this day,
I wonder why it is called the Judas tree is it the one Judas hung from with silver coins, 
Cornelian Cherry flowers at the end of winter, followed by richest bright orange fruits,
A Japanese Quince shows splashes of color they are so white, or salmon or very very pink.

Weigela a beautiful shrub will bell like flowers and a deep red rose brighten the woods,
Times getting on now and I am tired but standing in this beautiful meadow I feel so alive,
Doesn't matter how old or how well a person maybe that same natural beauty is seen by all,
So leaning heavily on my companion the hazel stick I walk back to my home it's a great day.


Details | Haiku | |

Sakura's favourable conditions

Hannah under cloudy                                                                                                   pink tree petals drop like snow                                                                                     winter passed peace


Details | I do not know? | |

The Swaying of the Grass

1.

 

A path leads,

to where wild grass grows,

 

sashaying in the summer breeze.

 

2.

 

Along the path,
lightness settles within,

 

feeling the grass,
swooning,
tickling ankles,

 

swaying to the lilting bird-song,

in a dance of intimate abandon,

 

brushing the remnants of pain away.

 

3.

 

Melodies float across fields of green,

delicately caressing my heart,

 

teasing emptiness to flee,

comforting the mind,

 

to silently be.

 

4.

 

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


Details | Rhyme | |

A Moment In Birding

A warbler flits just out of sight
High up in the trees
His vocal song comes raining down
But still I cannot see

He gives me but the shortest glimpse
Behind the curtained leaves
Whilst singing here and flitting there 
In the tops of trees

The singing stops but still I look
Scanning high and low
Hidden now by just one leaf
My hope now starts to grow

Into the suns shining spotlight
Thos little bird hops out
For just a moment and then he's gone
I give a joyful shout

Deep into trees the bird flies on
Ne'er more to grace my eye
But with my glass I search on still
To fine one more surprise


Details | Rhyme | |

First Robin

I welcomed my first spring robin today.
I couldn't believe what I'd seen.
I wanted to ask him what brought him so soon,
And to find out just where he had been.

He gave me a flip of his tail and flew off
To examine the old apple tree.
He wants to be first to stake a fair claim
For the place that his new nest should be.

Why is he such a bright early bird?
There are more than enough worms to go round.
And why did he choose my old tree for his home
As the very best one to be found?

He has no time to answer the questions I ask,
But I watch as he busily seeks,
The best site to offer his mate when she comes
To spend all those nice summer weeks.

"Dear friend you are welcome, I'll gladly abide
Your decision whatever it be.
Your song pays your rent, I'll not charge you a cent,
And your portion of worms shall be free.

I'll lock up the cat when it's time for your hatch
To take their new wings for a test.
I'm delighted and giddy and utterly charmed,
That you've chosen my tree for their nest.

In this loneliest spring of my life, God sent you
To fill my sad life with some cheer.
He loves me so much and knew better than I,
I'd be happy to see you appear."



Won 3rd place
For Deborah's Animal Speak contest


Details | Rhyme | |

"Spring in May"

Flowers are blooming on this chilly spring day..
Buds on the branches from the trees in May..
Pollen count so high as my eyes start to swell..
Wiping my eyes lightly with a story to tell..
Birds chirping so loud as they plan their time..
From tree to tree they sing to rhyme..
Here comes that crow again stealing the scene..
Screaming so frantic to his friends, not so serene..
The sun comes out to warm this spring day...
The tree line so bright with colors of May..


Details | Sijo | |

SIJO

	
Heaven scent becomes spring's roadside dressing in lavender allure.
While we, in our wanting way, call it a red bud tree, heart-shaped leaves
with universal appeal discard blossoms to speak of love.