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Spring is here to stay
For three months, hooray!
More bluebirds are chanting
More tulips are blooming
More trees are growing
And dusts are in the air.

The weather is cool, not cold
More houses are being sold
More joggers run in the streets
More retirees are warming the seats
More athletes are at their meets
And allergies are in the air.

Spring is here to stay
For a quarter of the year, hooray!

Copyright © March 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
AJ Fredrickson Apr 2016
She’s leaving soon and she’ll take my heart with her
Care for it my dear, for it’s the only one I’ve got
Drunken evenings spent on balconies
Do you think I can fly?
Maybe tonight I’ll take a swan dive
Spread my arms and just soar
“If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, Why, oh why can’t I?”
It’s 2 AM and I’m dreaming of you
Dreaming of what once was
Nightmares, really, is what I guess you would call them
Are you even alive?
This empty bed is just a reminded of all that I’ve lost
All that once was, never was, never will be
Was I dreaming this whole time?
Did I just barely awake?
Were you even real?
Maybe tonight I’ll sleep on the lawn; fall asleep under the stars
Wake up drenched in the morning dew
Maybe tonight I’ll drink myself stupid
Pass out on the kitchen floor
Maybe tonight I’ll actually fall asleep
Maybe I won’t dream anymore
Erin Atkinson Dec 2015
There are bluebirds flying all around
Inside my head
And I am reminded that tomorrow,
I may not hold your hand again
and I may never feel your teeth sink
Into my skin, again
                                      and wasn't that
                                   supposed to be
                              a good thing?

I'm left cleaning up the scraps,
the mess we leave behind
Like it's my responsibility
to carry your heartbreak, too.
                                         wasn't it
                                   supposed to be good
                              when I was with you?

I read somewhere
                       This is where you fire your musket,
              and this is where you fall and die

but I've fired my musket-heart
and I haven't fallen and I'm still dying
for you to look me in the eye
Like you still mean it;
Like there isn't some line in the sand
you have drawn arbitrarily
to measure what has been inside my heart
When you never cared to ask.
Love, those bluebirds are making it hard to see
through all their Pulsing wings,
But in their eclipse,
I'm finding a ring of light.

— The End —