Winter has now passed,
tears drip from the sky
grey clouds hide the blue
it’s raining! I cry.
bring us welcomed rain,
our garden’s thirst
is quenched again.
of yellow and blue
peer through the soil.
in the warm spring breeze,
their golden pollen
may make you sneeze!
jewelled colours of
purple, pink and red.
Cherry blossom falls
on a zephyr breeze,
falling from the trees.
Checked using How Many Syllables
Contest -Anacreontic Verse 3 sponsored by Edward Ebbs
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
On Manhattan's West Side...
You descend ancient stairs
You've crossed the Drive
River Side Drive
Expect to float on air of beauty.
Cherry blossoms pink won't wink
They'll courtesy as you walk, jog, bike
Their fragrance light and airy
Suffuse each path paved smooth
Sloped path leads to arched cemented canopy
As ancient as view
The Hudson embraces you
A garden path with bright flowers
Will warm your heart
The young, the old, those in between
They live for such scenes
Sky, trees, mound overlooking New Jersey
The Hudson River is where I met my honey.
Copyright © Iris Elizabeth Sankey-Lewis | Year Posted 2015
Peace of nature shows
how relaxing life can be
and can show you truth
Copyright © Christian Childs | Year Posted 2013
The sky is lying,
The sun is crying.
Copyright © Tiffiny Hagan | Year Posted 2015
Diamond dawn softened cold clinical walls,
smoothing harsh lines, soothing the sleepless
with love's lilting lullaby. Pastel-bloom hues
sparkled with crystals of dew -
glimmer-prisms of diamond-cut light,
in the month of showers and flowering bowers.
Red and yellow daisies studded dark soil
like gemstones tumbled under the flower of the sun.
Sweet peas twined a bright trellis of light;
clinging like a baby's fist, curling around sunbeams,
climbing a golden ladder of sunlight.
Crystalline morning softly stroked your face -
a sleeping jewel, gently polished
by the early light of a late April sunrise.
dedicated to my little 'sweet pea' Jake, born 28th April 2009
Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2012
NATURE’S WONDERFUL PRIZE
Beautiful flowers so vibrant and alive.
I smell your blossoms all day and night.
May your rosebud be an image of the mind while I walk through the garden tonight.
You are nature’s wonderful prize.
Beautiful flowers open your mind to the photosynthesis as the sunrises.
You surely will flourish into a spectacular landscape where your flower garden caresses and comforts.
Might you shout via your colors as I paint upon the canvas?
I will sit children amongst the tulips and daffodils so that your splendor will escape into the creative imagination.
Beautiful flowers do you feel the breeze.
You are radiant radiance and brilliance seen.
I have watched you in your growth.
As nature’s wonderful prize, you are significant.
Heaven’s sun showers your stem.
In just a short while, I will see you bloom.
Penned on October 25, 2014 @ 1:09 a.m. EST!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014
She meandered through
new spring grass, startling bugs
shortening their lives, taking her fill
with grandeur displayed
solely for her benefit.
His swagger almost took him
airborne, his tail feathers spread
into a fan of splendor
his princely prance seemingly
not even a blip on her view
Our appearance on the scene
assured his utmost strut, trumpeting
at us as we laughed and mocked
his silly gobble
Yet his strategy succeeded
She now sits on her nest
at the edge of the yard
under the hickory tree, just beyond
where the mower runs
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2015
The long awaited needed rain
finally came in gentle drops.
Thirsty daffodils greedily
quaffed the tepid precipitate
while their odoriferous scents
reluctantly merged with ozone
creating a pungent bouquet
that stimulated the nostrils.
Far afield from the daffodils
robins comb the newly wet grass
for ever emerging earthworms
that are coaxed above by the rain.
Soon the tugs of war begin
between the two adversaries.
Copyright © Albert Ahearn | Year Posted 2012
Spring trees are full of tender
green buds, stretching into the air.
Fresh blackberries blooming white
The smell of honeysuckle and it's bright
stare are full of honey bees with a hunger
to mature, with care.
A long walk on a dirt lain, back
road with no where to go.
Gentle fireflies cascade in the
In the distance a young whiperwhil
calls to another.
A peaceful sound that brings to me
a soft shutter.
Spring is here once again and the rebirth
of life begins again.
I live to see each year's wonder earthed
and to it, my attention lend.
Copyright © Sharon Gulley | Year Posted 2015
follow on facebook,
adore on pinterest,
fall in love on instagram,
kiss on a hunch,
all under a tree.
Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016
blows kisses to Bush Warbler
Dreams of distant love
Copyright © Lily Twinkle | Year Posted 2014
Rain perspires into
mild petrichor scents
as a radiant
with saffron sun
brittle red pansies
Tepid perfumed air
drifts fragrant flavours
from lilac lilies
and royal Hyacinths
sparkle like jewels
Bucolic views bring
of playing in
Hiding in cornfields
and building scarecrows
Horizons turn grey
as timid sun hides
behind dull rain-clouds
Seasons change with
3 April 2016
Anacreontic Verse 3 - Poetry Contest by Edward Ebbs
As the old saying, "April Showers Bring May Flowers", write 1 original, poem using "Anacreontic Verse" using this saying as a theme...within in your poem write about flowers, April showers or any other biome within nature for that season
Anacreontic verse is an Ancient Greek lyrical form, consisting of 20- to 30-line poems with three to five syllables per line.
Developed by 6th century B.C. poet Anacreon, Anacreontic verse is one of many Ancient Greek forms that emerged during the height of the dramatic, musical, artistic, and poetic culture. The poems revolved around themes of love, infatuation, revelry, festivals, and observations of everyday life, we will include at least one of the three primary colors red, blue and yellow in the content.
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016
The April morning's quiet
and so is the November.
Wherever people outnumber trees
or the dominant cover type
is unquiet. Nothing wrong with that.
Walt got it right, and Jane Jacobs:
the city is an experienced,
used beauty. Her toes are long,
nails thick and hair thin. Yet
her kisses can be sweet; or
smell of ****. All my life I've tried to point my window toward
some narrow wedge of nature.
On Seaman Ave., over the roof
beyond the chimney to the park
where every dog was walked.
Could I survive soot and an air shaft now, pigeons and cats,
or even a desk in the legislature for my lot in life. How about
prison like Etheridge Knight,
I've gotten soft.
When he builds that house in the pocket
wetland my window now looks out on,
the developer will have given me what I need.
oak, ash and maples felled. Good
to the last drop is our bitterness, our love.
Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015
Dunes now flowing
Blow spring air
Sandblasts love ...
Copyright © Patricia L Graham | Year Posted 2014
And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth
I stand among the reeds in the basin
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013
If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2013
shards of rain and hail
pounding on the soaking grass...
april tempest blows
swollen river beds
fields of winter turning green...
peeking through the mud
showers feed the lawns
tender shoots that spring up strong...
flowers on the way
Copyright © Deb Wilson | Year Posted 2011
Since spring forgot to come and winter stayed,
My garden is untilled, seeding delayed.
A sodden March ran damply through each day.
I hope for April to remove the gray.
Each April is reserved for tulip tours.
The brilliant colors are delightful lures.
The tulips are attracting avid fans,
While other crops fill in as also rans.
Our valley is a beauty in the spring,
But spring is not here yet and that’s the thing.
We pray the sun comes out and is on time
For merchants to attract the tourist’s dime.
So now it’s up to April to perform
To give us days that are spring like and warm.
So tourists can find beauty and some fun
And I at last can get my yard work done.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012
Oh how furious it was, God sent his power from above. He let the Black clouds
and the rain come gushing through our window panes. Oh what scary a sight to see,
I felt like running, I tried to free me. The gushing winds blowing so fast, I never
thought I would last. The winds he sent was meant to be, to warn all of us our
souls need to be free.
He sent his fury fast and long, we were all surprised where it roamed. The tornadoes
went from one county to another, sending its wrath, killing, destroying and giving us
trouble. Cries were heard throughout the night, People screaming and praying with
all their might.
The tornadoes did not stop, they destroyed our lands, and ruined our crops.
The devastation it left on our minds is here to stay and will never go away.
This is a terrible storm we will never forget, because it lasted a long time and all
of us were upset. We hoped and prayed it would pass us by, asking and praying
to God, please dont let us die!
We all tried to seek shelter in our homes, before we knew it, everything was gone.
Some of us found ourselves standing outside with nothing hardly for cover, we were
screaming and crying searching for one another.
Copyright © Shirley Long | Year Posted 2012
Through this airy window, from the corner of my eye;
The simple curtain dances slow - a kiss from spring wafts by.
So lyrical, yet crisp it is; of grace this morsel born.
In this gleam of time I am neither weary, sad nor worn.
For I am just a fleck in flour; for bread, a slice or crumb - Every grain is kissed by rain, and beams of glorious sun.
Copyright © James Cecil | Year Posted 2016
I sit among the audience of my thoughts
Upon a chair
With my feet up high casually on a table
My senses, my breath, my heart rate is stable
Silence at this very moment is my mind’s favorite labor
The leaves they sway from side to side
so graciously, it is my favorite sight
The cherking of birds is my morning cup of delight
In front of me,
The rattle of the clear crystal pool is the depth and constancy of a single thought
The clear blue sky is my happy tomorrow
On my face you will find no trace of sorrow
Such a peaceful sight I see
If only you could bare witness with me
To such a glorious and heavenly sight
Like A picture perfect,
Or a beautiful view in Peru
The glorious nature has set me at ease
I am calmed by the steady breeze
Yet the buzzing of my cousin
Is like the sound of a busy bee
She speaks to me of heartache and despair
And the death of some distant loved one
She makes a noble and noteworthy declaration
To give me a kidney if mine decides to collapse
I smile at her with this carefree sensation
As I sit there typing and pretending to care
Tapping my fingers to a rhythm while unaware
Smiling a genuine smile and sighing a pretentious sigh
You want me to speak of wickedness and of madness
At this moment I am indifferent,oblivious, I genuinely Do Not Care
The quacking of a random duck
Came casually as pure luck
Lazily I yawn, so dazed, and simply amazed
I am hypnotized
At this sight that left me mesmerized.
Copyright © Mary Moussa | Year Posted 2013
by René Annandale
On 22 April each year
we celebrate Mother Nature’s Earth Day
It is an awareness day
to shake us out of our dream world
that Earth will forever be here
Yet we orchestrate its demise
in so many ways
every single day.
On Earth Day we stop and think
for a while
and hopefully repent
of our foolish ways
Look at renewable energy
Investigate ways to curb waste
Recycle, reduce, reuse, upcycle
Mother Nature supports us
We have no right to abuse her
We should support her
in our daily journey around
It should be a combined effort
Use your mind
Get your hands dirty
If you must
Let us stand together
Let us fight
for the right to live
on this planet
we call home -
Copyright © Rene Annandale | Year Posted 2015
Mother Nature, You The Seed Of Earth's Delights
Soft spoken and sweet art thy graceful ways
Within forests of rainbow trees a light shines
For each of thy songs, the sad world pays
Reluctance in glory and resentfully it opines.
Coming Spring, brings increases in thy lights
With calming days and grace in castle towers
Soft spirits dance in woods on cooler nights
And later finds comfort in thy majestic powers!
Sun and morn bring far more pleasant things
Even happiness in light cool spring showers
Gratitude for blessings thy heart always brings
Admiration for thy gracefully wielded powers.
Mother Nature, you the seed of earth's delights
And greatest author of its most beautiful sights!
R. J. Lindley
no date on old poem.
No date on an old poem. Most likely late 70's to early 80's.
found six verses to another poem that I may finish if I
can find the time and do not forget to do so.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
leaves burst mauve palette
as cherry trees twirl waltz’s crest…
boughs clad april’s crowns
adorned in satin-sheet gowns…
parading on towns
oh scent of sweet yolk
candy-coated like bud's cloak…
tickles of warm stroke
children squirt hoses
under april’s swirled poses…
all rights reserved
(( for Carol Brown's " What's the Buzz" ))
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2011
Will it be the last?
I’ve wished for it all winter -
No early spring snow -
The Gods haven’t heard my plea
Ground is covered already
Out with the shovel!
On with my heavy warm coat
‘Whistle while you work’
The old Disney song comes back
But I’m out the door cursing!
Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2011
showers all day
the bay tree
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009
My name is flower
Of number one display and color
To commit suicide I decide
To take nuclear waste or pesticide
Am tired of you people polluting the air
Polluting our rivers and streams that's not fair
You clear out our jungles, you cut down our mountains
To make way for tall buildings Hollywood Mansions and fountains
You burn fuel for energy source
Depleting the ozone showing no remorse
You drill, you drain the earth of it's natural resource and nutrients
Causing a shift in the earth's plate
Evidence Tsunami and Earth Quake
I cannot take it anymore
This is the final straw
Yes am gonna commit suicide
Either by Nuclear Waste or Pesticide
O! yes you need me for oxygen
along with all other plant life existing
So if I were to take them all with me you'll die
You'll be no more... no lie?
So sit back admire the beauty, the splendor
The wonderful blossoming of a flower
In my last breath I write this suicide note
Dated 25th April 2011 by... flower
©Copyright April 2011 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Brian Pierre-Alexander | Year Posted 2012
On dark summer nights
Firefly’s sets sky alight
Copyright © Denise Morgan | Year Posted 2015
cherry blossoms burst
blue feathers line a new nest
Madam pens haiku
Copyright © Patricia Sawyer | Year Posted 2011
No. I’m not a rock; and I’m not an island.
I am about 8 feet wide and 20 feet long.
I get plenty of sun light, and I drain well, when it rains.
I have been lying dormant since last summer’s harvest of tomatoes.
That was the first year that my owners grew nothing but tomatoes.
Yes. I am dirt and soil; I am a natural food machine; I am a garden.
My soil has been enriched with all kinds of good nutritious compose.
Over the years my owners have planted many different vegetables;
but due to water shortages over the last four years, they have curtailed
their crops. For example, I have produced corn, white potatoes, squash, mustard greens, and tomatoes. However, this year, they decided to raise tomatoes, onions, and peas.
I tend to always do well with tomatoes, and this year I should
produce a bumper crop of tomatoes because of the winter rain
in Northern California. I will try my best with the peas, but I
make no promises.
There is a young and thriving peach tree whose roots have been growing deep into my soil for the past four years. The first year of production yielded nice peaches of average size. The second year brought my owner peaches about the size of golf balls. Please, do not blame me, because the soil in me was well nourished, except for water. From the garden, eat fresh my friend.
04302016 PS Contest, Poetry
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2016