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
~The Butterflies Dance~
(A Double Whitney)
The sun is
so warm and nice
there is cheer
spring has sprung
one more time and
winter so cold is now gone.
have returned and
and the roses
to my delight
Now I see butterflies dance.
Dorian Petersen Potter
Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2015
Stunning spring is my favourite season
She swirls her skirts and drapes the garden in her finest clothes
Dressing the naked winter trees and bushes with bright brilliant foliage
Spring showers us with confetti of pink cherry blossom petals in the warm breeze
Gently opening the eyes of the snowdrops, crocuses and daffodils
They crane their necks from the melting snow and smile sweetly
Creating colour and scent in our glorious gardens
Written by Jan Allison
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
autumn is here.
of the rain
and blossoms spring.
the snow shapes
the crisp cold
ices the wintertide.
the sand sculptures
a childhood summer past.
the seasonal airs
stimulates the senses
and the memories they carry.
in the glee,
in the hopes and dreams,
in the human spirit,
lives the miracle of life.
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
of echoes and whispers – uncut.
Any Old Poem Will Do - Contest
For Skat A
Entered: August 29 2014
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
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
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
May the first is traditionally the beginning of Spring
St Joseph is their patron saint this day to be
the only free day when no workers joined
the throng of people shuffling looking already tired
to wherever they work, eyes down still shut tight
Make them work long hours you will find
was their bosses right.
May Day the food was prepared with what money they had
try to find some newish clothes to wear,
though second or third hand.
Their beautiful daughters would wash their hair
then brush it until it gleamed
a small flower was placed with utmost care
A maypole is placed in the village square
With bright coloured ribbons dangling there
The fiddler would play, soon up stepped the gents
follwed by the maidens, with no lover as yet
They weaved and they bobbed shouting with glee
Many a romance started when they danced happily
At the side the morris men would dance
Jiggling their bells sending you into a trance
All made for a happy day, set in your memory
making you smile for another year
before a day free
The may queen was chosen some blushing young beauty
Crowned with a ring of flowers and a small bouquet
She would dance for the people in a small ring
waiting to see who wrote and would recite the winning madrigal
May first brings the spring and buds bursting into flowers
A trillion small petals like a shower would flutter down
the myriad it makes brings a smile to your eyes
Cheers everybody it's spring,
our bodies need this time to relax and survive
Penned 10 April 2015
* madrigal. - a short love poem
Picture taken by an old friend Dave Chang who gave me permission to use it.
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2015
Springtime is a chance to start your life anew,
Dust off your pride and change your attitude.
Bring forth the hidden treasures, of your heart,
Don’t worry about the past that tore you apart.
Let the fresh air cleanse your soul, body and mind,
Release the inhibitions that have kept you blind.
Love yourself, for who you are and what you can do,
Never worry about what others think, it all about you.
Embrace the earth elements and the comfort they bring,
Sit back, relax, and enjoy the results, of your spring cleaning.
Written : © 3/21/16
Submitted for: Second Chance #3
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Copyright © Sarita Milliner | Year Posted 2016
Spring comes, cool breeze flow
conveying the message of peace
with a pleasant and perfumed blow.
Flowers blossom with redolent fumes.
Butterflies worried for their marriage
inviting friends,with paused tune.
Linda, Sandra dress up nice,
Jean, James come with smile,
Andrea, Anne please come in time,
Devnath, don't forget your camera mobile.
Let us rush to Laila Garden, to enjoy
the decoration arranged by spring
the fragrance, main dish of party
served by pleasant wind.
Come with me to bless the couples.
Flowers are brides, butterflies are grooms.
Grass hoppers are there
to welcome us, with melodious tune.
As a beautiful tent, trees stand strong
wearing emerald crown.
To ensure our comfort, earth covered it's surface
with carpet of grass, mild golden green.
I know, you all came with gift
to show your stardom.
Don't worry, I am here
please handed it over to me
without any confusion.
Written on 29th April, 2016
Copyright © Manmath Dalei | Year Posted 2016
Days and nights of hibernation
within the clapboard walls,
winter winds have eased
and only the sound of rain peals
upon the storm glass panes.
The desire to go out, to run, to scream
is strong, yet, on the rain taps a tarantella.
The parting soil unbound from icy grasp
permits the spear of crocus and of daffodil
and though the rain drones
an accompaniment with the clock
sleep does not come.
Knots of lassitude untwine
as child-like upon the open porch I stand
reaching upturned palm into the falling rain
watching as it strokes the waking ground.
Cleansed are we all by sky and rain and wind
rain on, bless the ground, let Spring begin.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2013
Nature poses amidst Her spring
colors with majestic splendor.
For Her garden is dappled with
purple pigments and puce pastels.
Tepid Chinooks melt virgin snows
that swell meandering rivers.
And form long lazy loops snaking
across an emerald prairie.
A rising sun imbues its light
with a sense of hope and magic.
And gilding the edge of darkness
dawn heralds Sol’s resurrection.
A watermelon horizon
marks the birth place of a new day.
And pink cotton candy clouds float
upon a sea of vermilion.
Reminiscent of paradise
the wildflowers are in full bloom.
And atop gently swaying stalks
they reach for an indigo sky.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
Green is made up of blue and yellow
Renowned colour of spring you see
The sun and sky help things to grow
Brings out the blue/green in the sea
Grasses grow and wave in the sun
Some of a bluish tint it's true
Yet still long enough for children to have fun
With old games they think are new
Green are the eyes of a beauty
Whose glance can knock you off your feet
Plus dimpled smile that says hello
Making your day feel so complete
Spring the word is musical
Listen the birds are yearning to sing
The pleasure it gives everybody
Enough to imagine wedding bells ring
Brides love to wed in the springtime
The days are longer sun will shine
The rays show through the stained glass windows
Shining on the couple as they pledge to be thine
Penned 23 March 2015
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2015
Listen as the wind whispers
secrets of my lost past.
It howls at my melancholy miseries,
shrieks at my heinous sins,
warning me of a fatal future
that is sure to be my looming last.
My destiny lies in my hands
as I linger in indecision
with your shadow in my heart.
For I cannot stop loving you
I cannot live a normal life
I hunger for food of love,
Only I can find none.
Wither shall I go?
The future is dark and uninviting.
My past is filled with fear,
my present is full of sorrow.
I think of you and my starved heart beats
in dangerous arterial fibrillation.
I close my eyes in anguished hope
but cannot calm my tattered nerves
as the wind continues with its howls
for winter is sure extending its days
although I believe and sincerely hope
that sublime spring is coming soon.
11 March 2017
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017
Fall to Winter, Rise to Spring
Fallen, down and out
Frozen, not dead nor decayed
Rising, faith with wings!
Kim Patrice Nunez
Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2014
has long died;
she comes to pass.
across open yards,
blotted white -
then, one last
escapes with might
to southern breeze.
transform with ease.
slowly brighten -
in budding delight,
they sleep no more.
soft to touch,
in wake of warmth
and bubbling sounds
of children’s laughter.
Under a hearty sun,
bare feet and legs
long to lilt
as passion follows
out to taste the open air,
waiting for night
to kiss in the flush
of descending moonlight –
as shooting stars
sleep no more.
last sparks in the fireplace
cool, no longer needed
to kindle romance.
I soften to the touch
of spring dew,
the joyous music -
fresh falling rain;
taking her time
to seed waking soil
until she voraciously
like a lost love –
a restless gypsy
on a journey-
she sleeps no more.
Spring dresses earth
in liveliest colors…
and I smile,
Overwhelmed with the beauty
touching my soul
and sun showers falling
on sweetened dreams.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
(a Salute to Howard Moss)
Although it is not yet warm,
we have shoved to the backs of closets
snow-boots, gloves, and woolen scarves,
locked tire chains and ice scrapers
into trunks of automobiles as if
tomorrow the first bloom appears.
Oh, stiff wind blow, hold back snow,
whose flakes unwelcome gust
while hearts claim lilac scent.
Oh, pale moon, come, lend your light.
Oh, songbird, drop your sweet notes here,
while old men's hats sail past
and girls push down their skirts—
with both hands—as purses cling
on hunched shoulders and hair-strands
blow against cheeks.
What is this howling wind
and who brought this mournful song,
this wild, feathered up-surging
as if tomorrow the world upturns.
We've shoved our gloves,
our boots and scarves behind
the racks in backs of closets,
locked away the sacks of salt,
and scoured the ground for signs
of hyacinth buds or crocus flush,
while old mens' hats sail past
and girls hold down their skirts
as purses sway and hair-strands
whip against their cheeks?
And though it is not yet warm,
there is the mystery of spring.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2015
April's last Flowers
I was watching carefully
The last stems
Of April's Red flowers
Which were spreading their beauty and smile
Unconcerned with the destiny
That after April
There would be almost no such flowers
Of red Lily
For another one year.01
The flowers were smiling
As if, it makes no difference to them
Whether, they would be here or not
When the hot winds of summer
Would try to wither and make dull
The beauty and grace
Of every human face
As often they succeed in withering
The beauty of flowers and life
That exits and breath
Without the love drops of life giving water.02
The last flowers of April
Were also unconcerned
That they would shrink and would get dried
By the heat and dust of summer
In the days to come
When the scorching Sun would
Burn the Earth, Sea and Water
To create the wonders of rains
For thirty lands and sky of the earth.03
What a great way to live life
In these smiling last flowers of April
Alas! If only humans can understand
How to live a life with the pleasure of love
And get lost forever
Without the worries of tomorrows.04
The flowers were enjoying
Every moment of their existence
With the butterflies and black bees
Which were hovering on them
Since day one
And were trying to please and praise them
To win their hearts
Like men praise and please the women
When they want to attract and win their heart. 05
The hovering butterflies and bees too
Were trying to show their love
To all the beautiful flowers of April
Before the alluring beauty of these flowers
So that these alluring flowers
May allow them to come close and kiss them
In the flowering season of spring.06
Every time these symbols of love
The black bees, butterflies and
Even the little black tiny bird
Were coming close
To kiss and to touch the petals of flowers
They were charging with a new energy
After getting the love drops
From their beloved red flowers
And they were flying
More and more high in the sky
Perhaps to touch the those lofty heights
Which can only be seen
When nectar like love drops
Creates its magic on these searching lips
Filling it with the energy of love
Which get reflected in every new flight
Of these beautiful creatures
When they fly from one flower to another. 07
And I was watching silently
With a Camera in my hand
The last of these April flowers
To catch the glimpse of
Any of these memorable moments.08
Their silent game of nectar and pleasure hunt
Continued in that bright sunlight
As more and more new creatures
Were coming to please and to win their beloved
Standing there with its ravishing beauty
So that, they may welcome them
With a smile and beauty
And may allow them to taste
The nectar of these red beauty and love
Which starts pouring it's magic
With the approach of April
In spring every year. 09
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpur India 2nd May
Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2014
Through a fluttering veil of luscious hues,
Fair Lady coquets with the majestic Sun,
As the wicked Wind caresses her tender cheek,
The harshness of Winter all undone.
Sparrows perched upon the towering trees,
Whistle sweetly at the colorful array.
Fair Lady hums and sways in warm ecstasy,
As the wicked Wind drifts away.
The sinful Sun glows after a wearying day,
And spans its gaze upon the fields of fruit.
Fair Lady drowsy, lies upon the prickly grass;
The darkness envelops as all goes mute.
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2010
free as the wind
in song and verse
visions tumbling within my soul
quenching my poetic thirst
as vibrant as the wild daisy
each teardrop upon my face
I twist and turn in posy
lapping up the springtime rain
with each pitter patter
racing to greet my heart
I melt with each breath of beauty
drowning as I impart
forever in crystal showers
as I fall back to paint the day
from the rumbling clouds of dynasty
quickly I am taken away
free as the wind
in song and verse
this euphoric poetic birth
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2013
Frigid, knife-edged winds from the northwest
sweep down like hungry raptors on
pewter gray skies. Feral eyed, keen on destruction.
Late May. Sullen skies discharge sleet and glacial,
stinging rain. Threatening each newly exposed
green leaf and sprout. Frozen rain. Unrepentant.
People, startled by the velocity of a winter-spring
storm put the parka back to work. Vibrant summer
birds topple dead from their refuge or tree limb.
Daffodil, crocus, and lilac suffer the slow suffocation of ice.
Hedgerow and tree leaf are burned by ice' frozen fire.
The sun, moon, and stars hibernate for days.
Frail light and little warmth. Bleak optimism.
Grim moods darken. Wildlife endures.
An emerging cycle of life has been altered.
Days are lived in half-tone and sepia.
The sky makes no act of contrition.
The unseen parallels, the lands, ice and cold
north of the Arctic Circle visit their wrath upon us,
erasing much of a slate-gray board of life.
A new and boundless spring is cast aside.
Souls pray and await warmth and golden light
to renew and reincarnate a missing Spring.
Copyright © Brian Baumgarn | Year Posted 2015
Soft sunlight streams through Nimbus clouds
A sign, a foretaste of coming spring
When hills and fields bring forth rich foliage
From humble green grass to royal heather
Flaunting peacock colors to honor the day
As clouds release their crystalline drops
Lovers’ laughter echoes as they run for shelter
B’neath the old willow tree, they stand; lost in warm embrace
Soon, a hush will fall as sweet jasmine floats
When hungry lips taste the first kiss of spring
Note: For Russell's "Spring Showers" Contest
Copyright © Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2013
Aquafirs miles away in my mind
with springtime sun
lapping upon the
shores of my memory
movements to my legs
to music echoing in my limbs
5th. Symphony catapults me out the door
into glorious sunshine
dormant for months (seems like years)
staring at boulders
basking in the sun
touching bark on trees
grooves of my
smelling the earth dug up with my
sifting my life
turning my face
towards the sun
warming tidal planes
in my mind
recalling the ebb and flow of
upon this land
marking my scent in
the woods (as men do)
tracking the sun as
it moves across my day
as earth releases
pausing to lay
down in prairie grass and nap
refilling all my
I have still to travel
I have still to travel...
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2014
Mountains put away their winter caps.
In warm sun, soon they'll take their naps.
Rivers stuffed full of melting snow;
running swift to trim, then they will slow.
Brooks frozen silent, now breaking free
to babble on their way to warming sea.
Lakes throw back thick icy covers;
their warm waves calling swimmers and lovers.
Smoke, donning perfume of fireplace logs,
now wears a new scent of burgers and hot dogs.
Trees, that for months have been stripped bare;
knitting dresses of green, they're soon to wear.
Spring hastens in beautiful gardens to tend.
New lives begin at Winter's end.
Contest: Winter's End
Sponsor: Skat A
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2015
Uprooting the dreams
time sows the seeds
And clouds shed tears
of April rain
as winter wanes
and warmth abounds.
Fleeing far flung
start heading home.
And on the winds
of open sky
try new found wings.
usher in the
first days of spring.
And tulips flaunt
their waxen bells
atop stems of
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
that wonderful sound
Your beautiful noise
Your fantastic gift
Copyright © James Peranteau | Year Posted 2015
in my memory today
Perched on a manicured hill
after the last bell
All my friends surrounding me
She strolls by, I catch blue eyes
glance quickly my way
A scented letter...
I rent a white tuxedo
for her Sorority dance
She's dressed in blue silk
We are formally announced
Arm-in-arm I escort her
through a flowered arch
to that shining floor...
The band sings a sweet slow song
I breathe in her perfume scent
she snuggles ever closer,
humming the same melody
softly in my ear...
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2010
I feel sad to day
I feel sad in heart to day, to see what is happening all around me
The season of spring is singing the tune of autumn
The Koyals* and nightingales have left without singing,
This beautiful garden and the trees,
Before the spring would have bloom them to sing,
In full throated ease and beauty
They have left the nest and the tree and even the Garden
To see all this
I am very sad to day, sad, very sad in heart
Adieu my friends, you are the birds, who could have sung,
Many more songs and would have given many more dreams,
To those who are still in the garden, in the hope of a Koyal’s melody
But these are the dreams for awaken eyes
And not for those who are sleeping
As day dreams can be put to shape, but the dreams of sleeping eyes
Very rarely get a shape and are often get lost in sleep alone
I feel very sad,
To realize and to see things as they getting all around me
Kanpur India 31 01 2010
*Koyal . A melody singing bird of India (like the Nightingale of John Keats)
Koyal mainly sings in the season of spring.
Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2010
So sweet a kiss
The murmuring tunes of Spring
In the fragrant breath of night
Hums within my slumbering ears.
Like the whispering trees dancing
In the softest dews descending
From the vapours of the skies
When the soothing night
Was young with the glimmering moon of May.
The poor labouring clouds expanded wide
In the muted distance ripe with coldness
While the storming of the Eastern wind
Drifted through the blossoming fields
Graced by the sultry springs in the lulling hours.
I pulled the weary drapes
When the night grew old with silence
From a crystal window
Mirrored against the dumb fields
Black with the night.
A soft mist exudes the dead wind
Curled around the nodding branches.
Then I stealed away to the vacant spot
Where a crackling fire
Invaded the mournful breath of silence.
Lipsing sounds intrudes the night
Upon the quiet slopes and verdant span
Where the blossoms gently bow
Kissing soft the silver spray
Fluttering in the starry distance.
There sauntered I
Under the gladsome sky
To pluck a cherry from its stem
Outstretched beneath the sobbing moon
That in the dawning misty hours
That silver orb of light expires
When the sun had greet the day
With a golden sigh!
Copyright © Mustapha Mohammed | Year Posted 2013
Icicles on leaves and branches of trees
They begin to melt down bit by bit
Rays of sunlight appears, as winter cease
Freezing air fades, as glow of sun increase
Squirrels, rabbits run wild and free
Birds of various speed soaring high
Their mellifluous tweets, a melody
Piebald butterflies dancing merrily
Leafless, lifeless trees in healthy living
Colorful buds of daffodils, magnolias around
Their natural beauty, a wonder, stately astounding!
Rain falls, softening the earth as new shoots abounds!
Frozen grasses before, now stilled with energy light
Blossoms as well, humbled with new beginning
Seeds scattered rises as in springs
Snows gone, as sun's refulgence a revering bright
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2014
Hark! Don’t forsake me.
Search for me.
Look down low, in the underbrush.
I will be good for you.
Though I’ve been given just a little of our endless world,
I have the glowing fire of raging cordilleras,
The blazing sunsets of Equatorial skies,
The lustrous skin of succulent citrus.
I am orange truth.
Copyright © Sergio Silveira | Year Posted 2013
~The Butterflies Dance~
(A Double Whitney)
The sun is
So warm and nice
There is cheer
Spring has sprung
One more time and
Winter so cold is now gone
Have returned and
And the roses
To my delight
Now I see butterflies dance.
Dorian Petersen Potter
The "Whitney" is a syllabic poetry form or style, that was created by Betty Ann Whitney.The "Whitney" is also known as an American Asian Poem.
Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2016