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Best Spring Poems

Below are the all-time best Spring poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of spring poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Definition & Discussion of Spring Poems
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Details | Spring Poem | |

Spring Reverie

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.

Details | Spring Poem | |

The Promise of Spring - A Fibonacci

I 
Will
Kiss you
While you sleep
Lady dressed in white
And melt your cold heart  made of ice

Then
You
Will rise
Liquefied
High into the sky
And fall as raindrops from God’s eyes

To
The 
Waiting
Buds below
Where now you will grow
With me - in the bloom of a rose


           ~~~
Author:  Elaine George


* Note:  This poem is a Personification as well as a triple Fibonacci

Brian Strand's 'Image Contest':     First Place
John Heck's  '12-in-one' Contest:  First Place

Details | Spring Poem | |

Spring Fever

’Tis Spring (this is the real title, which I am unable to post this way in the title heading) Rejuvenate! ’Tis spring. Cruel winter’s lost its cling. We wake across this earth To welcome its rebirth. Give praise and with a joyful voice sing. ’Tis time of spring. Rejoice! Reverence with glad noise. In flowered meadows meet To dance with merry feet. Bring lutes, flutes, drums and resonant voice. Reflect. Again. . . ’tis spring. Robin’s on the wing. Lean upon a fruited tree. Hear the drone of honeybee. Breathe the bloom of lovely lilac sprig. ’Tis time. Reconcile. Greet each creature with a smile. As Christ for us bled tears To banish our worst fears, See everyone as God’s dear child. ’Tis season to re-grow. Heed nature’s lead below. Each gift you have to nourish Must be shared to flourish. Replenish bounties God did you bestow.

Details | Spring Poem | |

THE OLD OAK TREE


         Oh I am but a simple leaf
         withering within the gutter
         one summer of bliss
         now! Just an autumn flutter.

                   For some; destine to fall
                   upon stony ground, a part
                   of life’s infernal gyration.
                   Yet for those that fall
                   within your reach, to live
                   on within your soul!

         While limbs that stretch
         towards the solstice, create
         vivacious veins as channels of hope,
         a pledge of foliation continues
         to endure what spring has
         furnished; autumn expires. 

                   Yes! If we can but learn
                   from nature’s complex simplicity,
                   that life be of a cycle
                   from the seed we are conceived,
                   then let spring be my beginning
                   winter my exultant eve!

         Let our two cultures
         merge as one, the
         decomposed humus
         to become the sustenance;
         our transfusion the
         new beginning.

                   Let us breathe the
                   fragrance of born again;
                   let each slender limb,
                   stout body bear our
                   tenaciousness, each lyrical
                   leaf our life’s blood.

          Let us mollycoddle each
          precious tear that falls from a
          angry sky; dance gracefully
          upon the wind, embrace
          on moonless nights, bathe
           in summer madness.

                   Let us hear the bluebell call,
                   the daffodil pray, the apple
                   blossom bear witness; the
                   clamour of the field mouse
                   the pitapat of the butterfly
                   the silence of lovers in love.

             Let us be sanctuary to the
             symbolic songstress, scuttling
             squirrel, vulgar urchin;
             a fortress for the warrior
             a haven for the pacifist
             an inspiration for the poet!

 EPILOGUE 

                  The call of springtime
                   we will invoke,
                     logging representative
                      we will gladly choke;
                        nature’s guardian.
                          “This! Obliging old oak.”


        

         








Details | Spring Poem | |

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 | Spring Poem | |

Mileage on My Heart

The thought of seeing you again fills me with dread
I know the day will come; it’s inevitable
Mileage on my heart, feels like a worn out retread
Recycled emotions are undesirable

I know the day will come; it’s inevitable
My spirits sink at the mere mention of your name
Recycled emotions are undesirable
There was once a time your face set my heart aflame

My spirits sink at the mere mention of your name
What happened to those days? You were my special man
There was once a time your face set my heart aflame
This point we’ve reached was surely not in our game plan

What happened to those days? You were my special man
Our spring turned to winter faster than I could blink
This point we’ve reached was surely not in our game plan
Stop the world, let me off; I’m standing on the brink

Our spring turned to winter faster than I could blink
Mileage on my heart, feels like a worn out retread
Stop the world, let me off; I’m standing on the brink
The thought of seeing you again fills me with dread


By Carolyn Devonshire
For Paula Swanson’s “Pantoum” contest

Details | Spring Poem | |

I Dreamed a Butterfly

I dreamed a butterfly in golden days when buttercups lay in the fields ablaze. It fluttered to my cheek, sweet love to bring. My heart was wont to burst and wont to sing. In breath of morn was scent of bluebell sprays. On blossomed blankets of the fields we’d laze, and into one another’s eyes we’d gaze, my love and I, as April had her fling. I dreamed a butterfly. Our bliss was as the spring, a fleeting phase, and brief’s the beauty of young lovers’ craze. As cruelly as a wasp, he left a sting - and all the lovely plans we made took wing, leaving mere memories of golden days. I dreamed a butterfly. 2/21/13 For Francine Roberts' Spring is in the air Poetry Contest

Details | Spring Poem | |

Haiku 57 about the rose

wings flutter on a moist petal rose nectar

Details | Spring Poem | |

Coiled Spring External

it is in this mural of splashing fuses 
that I am lit with a solemn torch……

I gaze with back deck musing 
but  front porch eyes….

I see the distance beyond this world
                   (my own cosmic existence)
a residence I squandered 
but my feet want to tread there

the green that surrounds me 
suffuses me with lakeside dew
melodies drifting only the quiet can hear
ripples that only valid observers see

the kentucky breeze carries a lonely wind
solitary….
               where has it been?
has it touched the sand I have?
                                (bare toes buried)

somewhere a child cries in the still
shattering  this serenity 
(though some don’t hear it)
along the bank of shoal like tranquility
the birds will wail for broken dreams 
(severed by thoughtless hands)

oh, its only a portrait
                     (an inspiring one though)
as open lashes stumble 
                        a horizons sinking sun
multi hues of reckless red and pink
a blue print  of what life should be
snap shot deftness in the perception
while beneath lay the sorrow

the last lingering tangerine shades
tease and taunt the tops of dogwood trees
oh beauty as far as eyes can see
a few silver shimmers of clouds 
                              in a blue grass sky

flowers bloom sweet pea and peonies
raw carmine kisses in the silence
pretty pansy faces 
                   and grass is verdant
green!! peacock sage and pine
 arrayed in darks and lights
a myriad of different shades 
brilliant in its lush velvet on my feet

to only live life this way (skimming surfaces)
just as the honey suckle does
how blissful that would be
(in all its exquisite ignorance)
branches sway in the song of a blue bird zephyr
as the fingers of it caress my skin

tonight
this expanse is my companion

but still I perceive it
what lies beneath
in stunning cognizance 
bearing a strenuous burden

it is in this mural of splashing fuses
that I am lit with a solemn torch

I gaze with back deck musing
but front porch eyes


Details | Spring Poem | |

Spring Showers

The Happy Field and Spring Shower Hand in hand, we fluttered like two butterflies among the fragrant flowers of the field and meandered, singing songs, along a stream. No agendas to keep to; no schedules to curtail the pure pleasure that we took in consuming every lovely hour of our Saturday. With our picnic lunch, we sat down on a blanket. Later we lay looking up at clouds. Transported to the wonderland of our imagination, we named them fluffy mountain ranges, bunnies, sheep, and Easter lily petals until they morphed into lopsided bearded faces, huge white polar bears and cotton-breathing dragons. Unexpectedly, the clouds grew dark, and suddenly, we saw and felt large raindrops splatter on our skin. We fled our happy field, arriving home - two children, wet and laughing, just as the spring shower let up. How were we to know in the springtime of our lives that the field and the rain from which we fled I’d one day write about as metaphors for youth. Written for the Spring Showers contest 3/30/13

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