Spring winds blow their sound,
Winter now is bound.
Knees in,
Melted, sludgy-browned,
Green peaks through the ground.
These in,
Nature's own impound,
Exiled now, grave mound,
Squeeze in.
Snow tries to reason,
Get one last freeze in,
Surprise!
Vernal, yet weazen,
March smells a treason,
The lies!
Mad by degrees in,
Arrogant season,
Reign skies!
Hasten Cold's demise,
February spies,
Be drowned.
Viridescent eyes,
Vegetation rise,
Be gowned,
Prep and lionize,
Time yields yearly prize,
Be crowned!
Youth love broken;
bitter lament, low earthen floor.
Dreamed a dream, dominant image spoken,
painful idle no more.
Defile taste of the grave-mound as they lie crumbled.
Painful overwhelming grief they stand and stumbled.
Muddle, confused, down they tumbled;
precious memories of love and strength awoken.
6/21/2019
Poetry Contest: Enter the 'Writing Challenge 1, June 2019, Crumbling Rhyme'
Sponsored By: Dear Heart
She is the rustling of the leaves upon the trees
She is the buzzing of the bees
She is the reflection in your tear
She is the whisper of the wind that brushes against your ear
She is a sunflower growing tall from the ground
That is her name upon the grave mound
She is a butterfly, swaying around the flowers
She is the one who brings the April showers
For she is always near, she is what you hear.
My sisters memory is very dear.
Find a Cure
Pulmonary arterial hypertension
For my sister Kaysha Dendinger
Sept 15, 1992 - July 21, 2018