Best Spring Water Poems
as the heavens cry
tears slip between each petal
the earth breathes new life
03/05/2018
sung buddhist prayers
released afloat spring rivers
a skyward mist
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on March 5, 2018 for contest HAIKU, THEME: WATER sponsored by MICK TALBOT
Deeper still the Woodland calls me
Further yet, she lures, enthralls me
Hapless I, with charms she hauls me
To her unknown hinterlands.
Up, I see the forest giants
Standing tall in self-reliance
Ancient, gnarled, in defiance
Weathering the winter's hands.
Down, I see leaves, fallen, floating
To which place, they are unknowing
In the streamlet's eddies flowing
Dancing to an ageless tune.
Further on, I gaze in wonder
As a river falls in thunder
Misting torrents cascade under
Slanting rays of afternoon.
Scattered rocks are graced with flowers
Breathing in perennial showers
On the brink of Nature's towers
Far above the bustling towns.
Never could an earthly City
Paint a picture half so pretty
Not could sing such lovely ditty
As the Woodland's captive sounds.
In my ear they whisper softly
Whistling bird and peaks so lofty
"Whither went, and for what sought ye
When ye left this tangled space?
For ye find here scenes of splendour
Vistas grande in awesome grandeur
Rugged views they be, or tender
Never could ye leave this place"
For to me she is appealing
I and she, both glances stealing
Lost in unknown depths of feeling
As I see her changing face.
Far from wild clamour ringing
I can hear the crickets singing
See the points of starlight gleaming.
Never would I leave this place.
Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat!
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?
Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...
After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!
My theme is: Happiness In Childhood
Replenished with rain, it rushes on,
Its brown water pours and spills
Like vinegar from the pickle bottle,
Tumbling over, bubbling through
The jagged jumble of rocks,
Those early plants pushed aside to let it pass,
Its running melody ringing clear,
Competing with the robin’s call,
The stream pushes on, its cheerful song
Belies the chill beneath,
As it strives to outrun Winter,
While the fragile sun sighs
‘Too soon, too soon’.
hillside reflections
a riot of spring color~
water coloring
4/6/2023
squishy sodden miles
footfalls bounce
Spring waters my feet
Yogurt.
"I begin the day buying yogurt in a small favorite grocery store."
Not pizza, nor gatorade.
Bananas
although they are imported from afar and grown in monocultures.
Attract fruit flies in August.
Peaches
locally grown with rainwater. I ate all the farmer's peaches alone
stacking them by the railroad tracks.
Water --
rainwater, tap water, distilled water, carbonated water, spring water ?--
deep gulps, infinite sips.
Nuts
in moderation, or not, unsalted, raw, replacing chips. His bowl
of filberts, almonds, walnuts quiet weekday mornings.
Edible plant parts --
roots, leaves, stems, flowers, fruit, buds. In olive oil
or butter.
Potatoes --
look online how best to prepare. Baked or fried. With a little
fish or meat.
Tea and honey,
play and prayer. Swimming and running,
talking quietly.
Bread?
Bread's possible as the Bible. Each is liable
to bloat us.
Wine and dandelions.
Dandelion wine's Ray Bradbury's story. Cans in a pantry, books on a
shelf
to the end of time.
Pasta
we used to call spaghetti, never noodles. I wonder if I can remember
how to make
grandma's sauce.
Tomatoes --
cherry, grape. Grab God's eye
going by.
dusky
salamanders in the spring
pure water
Your waters cleanse
my red-stained night,
my dredged thoughts,
rich petals drenched
between crystal and lace.
Do not pretend to dry of earth
or lips or veins.
Do not speak
without a moistened tongue
of love or spring in bloom.
My softest buds shall wilt,
brittle without your flume
flowing free in streams of rouge.
My reddest rose shall close,
alone to wither, brittle and brown.
For now, deepen in your sleep.
My love's rebirth shall lift your dreams
before they drift away
in June's tides, and I shall
float like moon beams
over your rising waves.
Bright blue skies on a spring day
Fulfills my horizon
Blue birds and robins pass me by
Mountain, trees, and animals
Priase God Abroad
The frsh air bring forth calmness
A quiet serene a waits my soul
Red orange and violets
Represents God's glory
Flowers slowly rise with the sun
And water crickets sings songs of glory
Fresh water arises with the scent
Of of sweet savory of God's spices
Beach rolls in the lazy tide
I sit back and enjoy it all
The art of spring is glorification
Of all tings God created
He's the world famous artist
He
Dancing silver mists
Drape like curtains over stone
Proclaiming the Spring
Shortly after studying consciousness for a few years, It dawned on me why going with my grandfather to clean our pasture spring was such a strong memory.
grandfather
tossing hat on a branch
kneels
As I watched the brown leaves and small limbs being cleaned out, I dimly understood that this was a kind of truth, which I finally realized a few years ago. Cleaning the spring I felt was similar to clearing the detritus from consciousness to experience the clarity.
red salamanders
clean cold clear water
bubbles from source
We are each a spring of therapeutic kindness
and pathological unkindness
emerging from and toward a rising river of time,
flowing down deep through universal oceanic absorption,
ebbing back upriver's EarthBound regeneration
back through time
leaping to confluently touch healthy integrity
if only for a timeless golden moment
Rapturous waterfall of time's compassion
sweeping back and forth
across Earth's ecoconscious eyes,
radiantly elational
swirling smiling joy
in love enjoying OtherPresence
CoPresent.
Kind and unkind communications
among collegial parasitic ecotherapists
often unequal in power over potential futures,
produce both generosity and stinginess of empathy
Which responses ego-consciousness invites
as appropriately proportional
are transactions between mutual time-flow mentors
of gratitude and unforegiveness.
River's Way,
paying love surging forward
and fear ebbing backward,
co-invests our human natured
Business as Fluidly Usual
Water's EarthConscious Way
always prefers co-gravitating
polycultural therapy,
rather than swamps of decay
seeping monoculture's stinky toxins,
ebbing lack of flowing love
as healthy nature's
effulgent spirit spring.