O Spring season of love for every plant and beast, from early March till later May the charming guest would feast.

In mother nature you’ll see the signs of all Divine designs. You will see the beauty on every face including yours and mine.

Daffodils will sway in open fields and lands that have declined. Flowers shall blossom and roses will bloom on every stem and spine.

Stallions will tease and gallop away in single pairs and lines. Even the birds their mates would mock before they do combine.

You’ll spot the fish of every hue in every pond or lake, but monkeys would scream and run away from every coily snake.

The crocks would stretch on river banks in search of warmth and shine, even  the bears will lazily rest under the shady pine.

lovebirds will flirt and build a nest on every woken tree, music would play and bells would ring in all the lands and sea.

When young are born or even hatch they’ll match the colours of spring, parents would feed and nurse away as the young will proudly sing.

There's a Poet who dreams of a Gateway to Heaven
Not some cold austere Gate bolted and closed in your face
As if to say "Clear off! You're not wanted here anymore"
But instead a lovely warm welcoming Gate  
A brightly colourful Gate with lots of bunting and ribbons on it
And a big banner over the top announcing
"Welcome Great Poet"

It'd be a bit...a bit like Noddy in Toyland
And there'd be all these pretty young girls with bowls in their hands
Spreading rose petals on the ground for me to walk upon
A beautiful path laid out before me, a carpet of sweet scenting loveliness
And there'd be other boys and girls there too strumming lutes and harps
Like beautiful critics... singing my praises
Inside the Gate it'd be like this wonderful Park
With lovely flowers and shrubs and trees
With marble fountains and statues and quiet flowing streams
With radiant kids and beautiful people and  lovely marquees like as if you were attending some wonderful party or banquet,

And then you'd hear a bustle in the hedgerow
But it's only a bunch of publishers vying with one another
Trying to get my signature on a multi million dollar contract
Suddenly ahead of me there'd be this wonderful magnificent throne
It'd be offered to me... offered to me as my true place... my true home
And then a man would come and he'd humbly bow and kneel before me
He'd be offering something to me....
Why! It's the Nobel Prize for Literature
I'd smile and say "Ah shucks guys sure I was only doin' a few rhymes... and a few stories".

I am a plant.
I am a thistle.
                   Cirsium arvense.
                           Creeping thistle.
When you first see me I am a beautiful, colourful flower. But if you come closer, you will notice two things.
1. I can ***** you. My needles are few and nearly invisible, but very sharp.
2. I am not ONE flower. I am a cluster of a hundred tiny flowers.
            I am possibility.


My opportunities were not the best when I was a seedling.
                The ground was dry and the sun burning.
However, as the forest around me, the sunlight that hit me directly lessened. The rain made the ground more fertile.

The ground is still too dry. I need more moisture to live. It is difficult to see the sun at all through the dense trees.  I wish I could at least see a little bit of the sun.

I am a plant.
I am a thistle.

Sun melted to pink, but Sky is still BLUE...
Not everything turns GOLDEN before the end
Only the HORIZON is colourful,
Lemme see...
Yeah, and for a long time sky is gonna be blue

A smile is rare among the crowd
even the sky has a gloomy shroud
colorful flowers replaced with concrete gray
more worship and less pray

It's becoming hard to be human
when everybody is concerned with their toman
loving yourself has become secondary
people's kindness is now nary

the world needs optimistic fools
seeing the good where none is left
chasing happiness in the gloomy seas of depression

I might become a fool
if somebody joins me along the way
and maybe these gray clouds will pour away
and the flowers might bloom again