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
to become the sustenance;
our transfusion the
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!
The call of springtime
we will invoke,
we will gladly choke;
“This! Obliging old oak.”
© Harry J Horsman 2000
Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2010
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!
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
cherry blossoms drift
upon the white casket
-a fading pink hue
she scatters his ashes
where cherry blossoms bloom
-life after life
-cherry blossoms wither
before leaves bloom
- - -
my unborn child
wither too soon
- - -
in hues of pink
-our baby girl
- - -
first cherry falls
upon melting snowflakes
-i lick fresh sweetness
from his lips
beneath the sakura tree
i shape a heart of petals
Not for the contest but tnks Susan
and friends you are an inspiration
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2013
I love it when Spring finally comes
The buds showing their little sprouts
Yes indeed from this seasons of four
I'm awake many sleeping plants shout
I love it when I walk through the parks
When these buds turn to a sea of green
Forgotten are the plants being so stark
This birthing season just has to be seen
I love it when I sit on the park benches
When the breeze caresses Sakura trees
The airs scented by their pinky blossoms
Mother nature and man in total agree
When I retire I'll grow a green thumb for
I love it when Spring finally comes
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2015
but Oh what a chill
The wind inhales and exhales
the trees bend on the hill
Winnie the Poohs Blustery Day
just cannot compete
In like a lion and out like a lamb
I am so tired of paying for heat
I long for crocuses, tulips and green
it seems like ages since they have been seen
Copyright © Willow Lawrence | Year Posted 2015
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.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
Bright trees in May time , of evergreen lace,
Cuddle larks perched above on twigs , winging
Draped with hued flora all over the place
Each bud, each petal , the anthem of spring.
Feathery the elm robed in velvet bloom,
Gone is Old Jack Winter’s glacial soak
Heralding new cycle’s minty perfume
Inside our garden, now verdant the oak.
Joyful tots with kites rush out to the lane,
Kicking their heels for giggly, cheery flight
Laughter aglow through sweet birdsong’s refrain
Mingled with whirling of bees…such pure delight!
Nothing but sheen lifts the maple , to rise
Offering a burst of charm wrapped in bliss;
Playful the folks that view this morn’s surprise
Quick yet gentle are dreams from springtime’s kiss!
9.12.2016 Rhyme: abab
Alphabet Soup Contest
Sponsor: Kim Merrryman
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . .
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"
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2012
Spring And Sunlight Wrap This Heavenly View
Slowly I climb that very steep and rocky hill,
seeking the beautiful summit so far above.
As a breeze sends me that cool pleasant chill,
far away echoes, sweet calls of morning dove.
Summit reached, burden was greatly reduced,
as I saw great flowery meadows unfurled.
This the beauty God magnificently produced,
one of his many fine gifts to this world.
Spring and sunlight wrap this Heavenly view,
in a sheen invading my searching soul.
Each visit, I find feelings serene and new
relieving me of dark world's heavy toll.
Thus I battle with dark and unknown gloom.
By entering Nature's gifted wilderness room.
Robert J. Lindley, 09-24-2015
Note: I just felt the need to write a sonnet this morn.
Thus from my memory this new poem was born from
a place that I once visited quite often.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
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"
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
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
Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2013
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
Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013
cherry blossoms drift
upon the wooden casket
life after life
In memory of our dear souper friend Lucilla Carillo,and my husband's cousin
David Chircop who finished this journey ,to start a better one.
May your fragrance of love bloom in the highest of skies as it did on earth.
'Pls remember them,and their loved ones in prayer'.
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014
Pops of pink, sprays of white,
your canopy of petals shimmering with delight.
Blossoms that glow at night and fall all day,
catching the light in the most visceral way.
Sprays of new life and branches anew,
fragrant with joy and possibilities in the morning dew.
Every Spring we await your bloom,
Cherry Blossom Tree you are Spring's magical costume.
Copyright © B Marie Furcron | Year Posted 2015
First person singular prohibited. In order
to be more crow.
War! war! war! war! war!
Then there's that lowland wetland bird
around the stunted red pines crying
Birdy, birdy, birdy, birdy.
Hear the redwing blackbird chirring
Her, her, her... she
as one might expect, Spring.
Words for birds
since they're inaccessible. Aim
binoculars left, right, up, down, missing every time.
At the piano recital
Aaron made the penguins run, run, run, not waddle,
from a hungry polar bear!
Everything passes, even a massacre,
but birds outlast cars
and words like chemical and holocaust.
Woodpecker climbs oak,
Not one neighbor heard the knocking.
The voice of a pewee
whose nest has fallen out of the tree.
Oh my! Oh me!
What did the wood thrush sing
that summer evening
teaching its young thrush meanings?
Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015
Through the foggy mist of a new day dawning
Appears a huge tree, awaiting the birth of another winter morning.
All that remains is its bare branches stretching toward the sky
And an old abandoned nest, left by its owner who traveled south so it wouldn't die.
The tree appears lonely but somehow full of hope
As if it knows Spring will come which enables it to cope.
A few months have gone by and the faithful tree is still there
But now it's consumed with excitement from its first breath of spring air.
It seems new life has come to the tree within a blink of an eye
It now stands picturesque, full of lavish green foliage set against the baby blue sky.
It waves its branches proudly with the breeze as if to show off its features
Which also seems to serve as a welcome sign to all of God's little creatures.
It appears to be much happier, now that its friends are back once again
Cradling brand new birds' nests and providing shelter during the rain.
The little squirrels also take advantage of their most generous host
It seems they like chasing each other up and down the tree's trunk the most.
The tree is now bursting with activity
With all of God's wee ones living His promise of love and longevity.
All through the summer the tree takes pleasure as it continually strives
To serve as the best meeting place for everything that creeps, leaps or flies.
Full of contentment, I'll bet the tree lets out a happy sigh
Every time it watches a baby bird learn how to fly
Or whenever a caterpillar turns into a pretty butterfly.
I often wonder if the tree truly understands
The major part it plays in God's circle of life simply because it stands.
Fall has now arrived and the tree appears sort of saddened by the sound
Of its first leaf gently falling to the ground.
All of its friends begin packing it up as they gather for a big revival
That's when the tree wishes them a safe and happy journey as they head south for their survival.
The tree bids each one farewell and says loud and clear
"To each God's speed and have no fear
For I'll be waiting right here when you come back next year."
It is now winter and a year in the life of the tree has come full circled once more
Although lonely, it is bigger and stronger than ever before.
But I know not to feel sadness, especially for the tree's sake
For in God's plan, He makes sure even the tree gets a well-deserved break.
Copyright © mary singletary | Year Posted 2015
A flower petal
Blossom on a long tree branch
With a bright color
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
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....
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
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
two hits and i’m hanging off cliffs, listening to water
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.
Copyright © Morgan Tate | Year Posted 2013
morning air still crisp
sun tickles the early buds
soon all will be green
Copyright © Lynne Hanson | Year Posted 2014
Cherry blossoms bloom;
the townspeople sing, laugh, dance:
hope springs eternal.
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
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.
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
By a road traversed by many
Where few uphold her beauty
She stood a figure so queer
Which only drew me near
I wonder if she'll ever know
How marvelous she was in snow
She shields her blessed bloom
Which blossom till the warmth of June
A gentle shove upsetting her stance
Her sway besets a familiar dance
Sentiments have no place in my heart
But beneath this enthralling arch
The falling fragrance of floral grace
Shall trickle my soul to its sweet embrace.
Inspired by Muses: Lori & Sharron
Copyright © Wilfred Aniagyei | Year Posted 2015
short life of beauty.
sign of spring like robin's chest-
blooms deep pink to white.
Copyright © Deb Wilson | Year Posted 2013
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
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
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
Copyright © Nudershada Cabanes | Year Posted 2014
You could have picked a sturdy branch
In the maple tree.
You could have picked the birdhouse
Or a place near the chimney.
Perhaps a bush, perhaps the brush
Might be where you'd feel best,
But still it's nice you chose my pot
To build your lacy nest!
Copyright © Raven Howell | Year Posted 2015
Cherry blossoms call,
beckon nature's majesty--
and the humble bee.
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2013
Paper whites peek through brown terrain;
the newborns of spring.
Between day lilies tiny weeds sneak by and in another bed,
young tulips return from their slumber
to greet waking irises.
Fruit trees will soon stretch their
bud-heads to brother Sun.
Roses freshen the air with their delicate perfume as,
tiny buds come out to sunbathe.
Spring has sprung!
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015
pink spiral stitches
macramed umbrella gilds
shrine to fertile spring
Copyright © Stephen Parker | Year Posted 2013
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.
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.
on a young oak---
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.
returns to the lawn---
All Rights Reserved @ Debra Squyres 2013
Form: haibun (mixture of prose and haiku)
Copyright © Debra Squyres | Year Posted 2013