Best Natureeaster Poems
If I were a flower, the one I’d most like to be,
is a big and beautiful Calla Lily.
I’d stand so tall, in the garden by my friends.
My bloom would stay open even when the sunshine ends.
The aroma I emit would tell all that it’s spring.
To children's faces, I’d bring a grin.
I would let everyone know that Easter is near.
Winter is something no longer to fear.
Now they have taken and done strange things with me.
I come in just about any color that you’d want to see.
I not only come in just white, as before.
Now I am purple, yellow, black and more.
I know that I don’t last very long.
My life each year is short lived, but strong.
So of my beauty you must partake in a hurry.
I’m usually here after the last snow flurry.
Well I guess it’s time for me to go now.
I’m being moved to a different place.
I think I’m going to a hospital,
to put a smile on somebody's face.
.
There once was a garden in Thomaston
But all the hidden flaws show now in sun
Bombarded by winter cold
Delicate Easter dress bold
Became frozen, tattered, falling undone
Now that lovely garden in Thomaston
Back in early spring's golden rays of sun
Rose blooms, tulips open tips
Flawless are flowers no thrips
Remember Rose Trellis_ love's embrace spun
It's supposed to be Spring,
Though snow's on everything
Winter weather's no longer a charmer,
But Easter Sunday should be warmer
My budding flowers may soon die,
Because the temperature is not high
Global warming must be the reason,
For snowfall in the wrong season
Afternoon, late March, delivering promise
of respite from errands, long lines at the post office,
queues of cars at red lights, what, if anything, is in
the offing for supper. A glass of wine is nice, will soften
the mind's noisy dissertation, news of unrest in
distant lands, world hunger, and men on South Africa's
Wild Coast who believe raping small girls will cure
their AIDS. For respite, I turn to the wood storks
and two world-class pines, sending perfect drifts of straw
and symmetrical cones into the protective lake-growth
ornamenting edges with a scrim of airy viridian: birth-
right of sea birds needing evening asylum. Now,
there's an unwanted invasion of enormous jaws, taking
no prisoners on a battlefield of buzz saws. Machetes
fell pines, artless shrubs and perfect palmettos that greedy
landscapers treasure to decorate the yard-scapes of
costly homes. Development, New Construction? Words--
glamorizing rape of wetlands. The birds are flying out,
now, from across our lake, where once in heart-
stopping numbers, they bivouacked against the arrival
of night. This day, this hour, they take wing, bird
by bird in a ghostly exodus, taking their "Reflection
of nearly all light from all visible wave links," whiter
than masses of lilies on an Easter morning. O,
lost blessing, these birds, taking healing
and our hearts in their exodus.
Young ladies in their pastel Easter dresses pooffed out with crinolins dancing in the Eastern
Sky on this early Sunday morn added a aura of cold to the frosted grass in the pasture. The
sun was brought up by the constant crowing of the roosters across the creek. Their necks
must have been stretched to their full extent for it to be possible to produce all that powerful
sound and bring such color to the morning sky...