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Maria 1d
I’d like to talk about spring,
About nature’s breathe with fresh
And breezy mornings, sunny days,
About feelings in spring plesh.

I’d like to talk about love,
The one that takes you all, in whole!
It’s in your heart! It is inside!
It makes a magic just for all!

I’d like to talk about myself,
The one that I don’t even know,
About myself with different fate…
But truly, I guess I’d better go.
Maria 2d
I’m cold… You think I’m really fluey?
I’m not for sure… Maybe you’re right.
The weather’s nasty by mischance for now.
And I’m not wearing my cozy woolly scarf.

This February snows a lot and rages.
I’d like to wrap in plaid and not to leave.
I know it’s blues. I know for certain, sweetheart.
You shouldn’t get a feel for me. I’m peeve.

The spring will come. There will be a revival
Of new ideas, follies and delight.
And I will rise, I will return, my dear,
Better than previous. I will be vitalized!
nicole 4d
1-15-25   3:06pm

january
the month where i start to mourn summer
and forget about the sound of the ocean

birds migrating south
darkness by 5pm
layers upon layers of clothing

but we read more books
and the neighborhood cat seeks solace in your home
snow graces the ground
a contrast between light and dark
life and dormancy

a moment to pause
to release and let go
love
shelter
the promise of spring

a slower life

I guess January isn't so bad after all
Maria 5d
What a ridiculous night…
It’s cold.
My body wants love a lot,
It’s bold.
It wants embraces and caresses
Till one drops.
What a ridiculous night…
It’s lachrymose.

What an immoral spring…
It’s obscene.
En masse and at me in whole
It’s too mean.
I thought I could do everything.
I was mistaken.
What an immoral spring…
My pain is untaken.

What an endless year…
It’s torture.
There’s no happiness and pain is
Too often.
I wish I could burn it out
In whole.
What an endless year…
Stop it all!

What a short tiny life…
It’s frustrating.
I thought that everything lies ahead.
And time is unending.
And I can correct everything
And create.
What a short tiny life…
I want it more! Wait!
Mri 5d
Today eve is different
Spring makes me overwhelmed.
Sunset is painting the sky with coral red
Clouds giving touch up with heart shape
Some broken, some full
Overcome the past, present to rule.
A sweet, cold breeze runs through me
Taking away all my worry
Fun and joy, want again to be tension-free boy
A new start, this is the life to enjoy.
Embrace the flaw, the moon smiles
The world is mine, and I am free to fly.
Every person have their favourite season, mine is spring which says it's never too late to start again with positivity.
In my childhood,
This city embraced me—
Open arms, warm and tender,
Like a lover greeting the beloved.

But now, for years,
It has become a dense jungle of people,
A place where no one speaks,
Where gatherings are no more.
Memories are left untouched,
Unspoken, unshared.

The days slip by—
They end as quickly as they begin.
Was there even an afternoon today?
I can’t recall.

Winter barely departed,
And summer rushed in too soon.
The gentle pause of spring,
Its fleeting beauty,
Seems lost to time.

I stand here, puzzled,
Wondering, searching—
Where has the spring of my city gone?
Zack 6d
My face pink with love
The cherry blossoms jealous
You change my seasons
A poem for my Fiance
Winter sun
kissed by the breeze
shakes the limbs
of starveling trees
wakes the bones
of each bare bough
and tells the spring
it’s not long now
*Finnish for awaken
neth jones Jan 29
arthritis tippled wooden relief    plugged in a bed of mud
the leaves that decay to its side                                   
                          comp­liment the carved ones that feather the face
but it is creaked   crevice and sinuous  
  a kind crumpled face  or maybe a stern  yet approving  parent mask
two seasons of weathering                                                    
  ­                            withered   saturated and withered again      
this self unearthing
worth moulded from
the decaying green man
reapplying  for a creative birth
for a visit  on the Autumn hearth
filling in its ****** details     with broken and discarded
school yard pencils   scudded over litter  and mud
soon to be worshiped again...
would settle for a respectful gift        from a child

for all his wonders in spring                                            
              ­                  he has envied the witness of harvest
but attention goes to other gods

he pouts  out of season     for no one here  greets him
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