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#springtime
Ambient sounds on a spring day. The rain falling upon rose petals, At the edge of a crooked park. . Sunlight rises high in the sky, As the day's clock starts to run. There is not much to do here. . Except wait for death. . . A poem by Garry Ventura
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May 4
May 4, 2026 at 6:44 PM UTC
Waiting For Death
The meadows fill with sweetness. The scent swirling thick and deep. Each blooming rose red as blood. As spring awakens with her simple touch. Cradled in the depths of her arms as life once again grows. As the carriage in the sky drags into night we watch her work. From afar, she looks breakable and dainty. Longing for a hand to grab her through a storm. Bright buds hang precarious on their limbs. Their hundreds of digits green and supple. The chirping of birds, Sweet songs they sing. With echoes of laughter and light. The Soft buzzing of bees Hum happy and free. As the heavens sleep above she spends her days quite cheerful. She holds scattered seeds which bloom like a promise. What she carries is not seen at first. It's tucked away where stillness learns to grow. With her hidden smile, she leaves these fields dry, taking back what she once gave. Headed beneath the earth where no one can follow. She’ll have cold days before she can truly take root, frost threading through her breath, petals learning the language of waiting. She has learned to carry warmth beneath winter’s quiet ache. When the leaves start to fade and become brittle to the touch. For she is a goddess of spring, always ready to return when the light remembers her name.
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Apr 12
Apr 12, 2026 at 9:34 PM UTC
The song of spring
At intervals I see you, in silence, in waves Faces hidden away in mires & fog-burdened moors A century of faces stare with disillusioned grins of toothy decay Hands of horror begin the ebb & flow; invisible actors of change reign Fledging flower grown fragile, into a black hole gazing oncemore Peer into the Abyss and it shall return the favour (from the darkest hole on Earth) Winter crystallized her stem, eternal dark blooms gracefully freeze Cryogenic insanity, tectonic memoirs slam & crash, embrace of dire regret & hope Causal relations, twisting geometric fantasy commences in a sea of shifting oculus Too stubborn to live, too young to die The Call of the Void must be answered by One & All Newborn baby thaws as springtime blisters the birthing pains Ostara begins upon awakening Eyes wide open & ready to see The undying Light
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Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 4:37 PM UTC
The Call of the Void
Once upon a wounded blackbird's wings What breeze has wandered upon this fateful thing? And of which shadow is cast upon? A calm feline has cast it's suspecting eye Upon a flurry of birds, appetite whet Clamoring eyes mix with primal instinct Interest persists further as the cat stealths closer to the hopping bird Open green groves house their sociality To adjust for the unsuspecting gale- Dark clouds usher in the maelstrom Oh, this wounded bird of prey! Hopping from grass to stone Worm in beak a-gape Excited feline has cast it's toying eye The mental primal urges stregthen Never suspecting poor odd One Becoming The Gift
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Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 8:55 AM UTC
The Gift
I. If not for all the solitary bees, & their endless voyage of the skies- They that forage honey & nestle among golden pollen pools, Flowers would ne'er blossom for the Lover's romantic eventide. II. If not for anther & stigma, Between pistil & stamen, The colours of beauty would truly seize. The foliage of Spring would forfeit Her wonder, The song of the Hummingbird would dry. III. How temporal, the wild beauty, that fades in Winter's Loom! Flower faces gaze from vistas on high, Oh from perched pergolas, Ivy encompasses the Acacia beams, Where creeping vine leap to & fro; & wood entwine another.
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Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 5:59 AM UTC
If Not For All The Solitary Bees (Part I-III)
The essence of birds Moving through the Spheres Slow pattern rain mutes the palette- How cool the breeze greets this morn Misty eyed daybreak haunts with drops Of water- teeming with wonder, of life Blackbirds visit to & fro o'er the hours On the backs of balmy afternoons Drifting dafadoli fade in the kindred grey Statues of angelic realms cleave to me Sweet shivers alight the aching spine Take a walk in rain but only for a spell I used to scawl sigils in sand Let the ocean wash it all away, Eraser of clutched secrets of my mind I am a shifter of worlds both black & white; o nighttime & day
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Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 4:09 AM UTC
Rain.
Alive at dawn, nature sounds begin Morning doves begin to duet at first light Sang their brightest tune & then sang the blues Atop an old power line their rhapsody is shared Through squinting early eyes I face the vacant windows My catatonic yet shaky hands secure an old empty ceramic mug Sleepwalking thru my favorite routine I shut the cool cupboard as I pivot quietly in the vacant, sprawling kitchen Only the warmth of the brewing liquid is felt, steam rising in the cold air No warmth of her sleeping tongue this new day yet I go through the motions As the faceless machine coughs & sputters about in its completion Belches of coffee ends the cacophony of uninvited noises I glance back at the blinking wrong time The voice that narrorates our thoughts responds instinctually yet droll my brain numbly responds: "DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME"
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Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 2:04 AM UTC
Alive At Dawn
This cool night sky is an avalanche A smooth violence, just palpable to the touch A warring answer, that is awaiting to be heard. On reigns of fire, the steed drew fast, upon the inky path It's four ancient wheels come jarring to life Over moors, wetland & marsh- The hellhounds bore on Craggy trees are overgrown along this desolation way-to the frostbitten journey of melancholia Claustrophia's burdened down to a quiet, barely perceptible roar The Royal Carriage wore the impending darkness as a jaded crown on the path Wolves present in packs, gnashing teeth & howling shrieks predicated by evil jaws Running further into the arms of Winter's yawning pit of desolation Artic snow berries and holly leaves- vibrant colours contrast the fresh flurries Icy stars blink into space upon the shelf of their circumpolar skies Forlorn, it had seemed, for the moon seemed half-awkwardly set A citadel of moonbasking delight rises Full moon momentum forged in the dark In waves, her moonbeams sensually waver as she dreams a dream, Her lunar spectacle orbits the Earth Staring into the mirror void, I unravel the solar ascension with my third eye Return to woven pleas for sanity Carnality has my immortality's ear My soul embraces it's darkest half once again Far from the shoreline, in the cold embrace of Fear Springtime's redemption awaits the final rescinding chapter of a waning tundra Awaiting for the finality; the end of winter
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Mar 29
Mar 29, 2026 at 2:33 AM UTC
End of Winter
Robins & finches duet as they converse Dancing from bough to bough they go Bumblebees & sweat bees envelope me Dancing to their springtime hop The mania for honey has them stirred The plumage of the grey tailed squirrel Quivers all about in a dizzying fashion As the lady bug crawls into my window Rose thorns & tulip tops both emerge Peeking their plant tendrils up to the sky I see the whole world of nature awake From the edge of my porch...
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Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 2:17 PM UTC
Tempest Vernum
All winter long— I long- for Spring! Because: Spring Sprouts Spring Shines Spring Chirps Spring Cleans Spring Greens Spring Grows Spring Births Spring Blooms Spring Lives Spring Longs Spring Warms Spring Wildlife Spring Rains Spring Renews All winter long— I long– for Spring!
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Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 11:51 AM UTC
Spring Fever
somewhere along the line, my name became springtime. my name became cherry blossoms and delicate blue eggshells and a baby bunny, soft as velvet. and yet mothers and daughters know that I've never been gentle. that I'm not pink petals and green shoots but instead red mud and black blood darker and richer than you thought possible. that I'm the coarse regrowth, the second coming. where death is not a distant memory, it is thick in the air cloying on your tongue. farmers and laborers know that I've never been gentle. that I take as good as I give— in a fit of anger, greedy. that where there is life there must be death. my soft underbelly contains hidden barbs. at least I wasn't named summer with fine corn silk hair and a regularity that borders on cockiness. her fat veins and her easy pleasures rise to the surface of her skin, her body bloated with warmth and comfort. at least I'm still alive with rocks under my nails and sharp eyes that ache in the sun and run when it rains. I am caked with grit up to my elbows from raking the surface of the earth. my body is sore from searching and longing and delivering. I've never been gentle. I'm not the sweet tweet of a fledgling but instead the scream of labour I'm the arm extending from a seed pushing through **** reaching for the unknown.
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Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 8:03 PM UTC
season of rebirth
Take this sorrow, and give it back to the earth, for it will come back as something brighter. Eventually, in the breeze, or the rain, or the vibration of hearty laughter, you’ll remember how you hurt, and realize how you learned to love.
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Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 4:43 PM UTC
Everything goes back to the soil
Perfect morning scene Full quality of light Fruit tree flowers flush So very pink against A sky so very blue Honey jasmine air Star petals frosty white Burning bottle brush with scarlet flames not quenched by glinting candy dew *Leaves drink up the sun See all the clocks In all the trees Sense shifting balance favour less the nighttme, more the day Triumphant feeling flows The equinox In quiet passing Led to colours loudly telling that the light will have its way* Impossible despair When nature shines like this Warming every part From gloomy winter shade To hibernating cheer A message penned in glow Unable to resist Thaws the chilly heart Where sprouting joy is made And bliss is running clear *Less the nighttime, more the day The light will have its way* Now spring is here
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Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 4:41 AM UTC
Equinox
poetry & spontaneity, are one in the same, each piece its own, spinning wheels on different days, reminiscent of springtime rain.
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Apr 25, 2025
Apr 25, 2025 at 10:30 AM UTC
Poetic Spontaneity
It’s that time again, Where we forget the rain. The sun pours light, On blossom lane. Cherry trees Disperse the breeze. A vibrant sight To attract the bees. As the axis tilts, Chills turn and hide. Like we’re up on stilts, Spring turns the tide.
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Apr 22, 2025
Apr 22, 2025 at 4:45 PM UTC
Spring
Soft breeze Warm sun Hungry skin Bees hum Heart throbs Sap rises Body softens Flower opens Spine tremors Simply divine This, Spring Time.
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Apr 21, 2025
Apr 21, 2025 at 11:09 AM UTC
Springtime
Springtime frost confronts apricot blossom— Destroyed, damaged, and disappointed— Leaves the garden to rely on cherry and plum.
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Apr 16, 2025
Apr 16, 2025 at 7:46 AM UTC
Cherry & Plum
I can't wait for spring when its officially mine flower fields in my mind lets lay down bathe in the sun seven playing in the background... beautiful so he calls me take a look in the mirror has he seen his face? has he seen his soul? oh the potential of us together he's something new just like the springtime everything comes back to life makes everything new again what more can I explain he is spring
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Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 10:39 PM UTC
spring
In sweet Springtime the fields are abuzz, while the breeze whispers the scattered secrets of compassionate couples, who met during the season.  A picturesque paradise, is peppered with flowers that gracefully sway atop the rolling hills with their blooms held high, colorful and confident. Forest leaves rustle quietly sighing softly like a lover dreaming of their soulmate, as birds flit between branches, making their humble abode in the boughs of fond memories. Spring rejoices for a while, bringing beauty out of burrows and sprouting the shyest of seeds before it carefully takes the earth, and almost reluctantly, places it into Summer's waiting hands, as it wholeheartedly promises to return once again, as it always has, every year.
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Mar 28, 2025
Mar 28, 2025 at 9:15 PM UTC
The Loveliest Season
Among the the floral sea of pastels and petals The fairy folk flutters alight in the gentle breeze Colors of spring array as morning dew settles Life's renewal from cruel winter's deep freeze Tending and working hard for every natural thing Fairy people minister to mother nature's gardens Melody rising, carries above canopy as they sing Giving attention to every manner of care, regarding Smiling down, looking upon her happy caretakers Mother Nature gives a quick wink of her approval Cheers so jovial abound the animals to their makers Love's color of soft rouge twinkle as a magic jew'el In a world so balanced in an array of majesty Comes, springtime friends to heal Earth's wounds Life gives and takes within perfect align infinity Gathers spirits thereafter soothing under the cool moon
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Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 4:43 PM UTC
Springtime Friends
Springtime has truly begun And sweet scented flowers Fill the air and the little Birds all sing a happy Soothing song a Chorus to the fresh display and Springtime is fresh and bright And the flowers will smile In the morning sunlight and Spring's gentle kiss the world renews With colourful flowers beautful and bright And all the land rejoices in the springtime.
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Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 12:17 PM UTC
Springtime
Maybe I don’t need the sunlight to blind me, but gentle sunshine to bathe me with its life sustaining light, engulfing me in its warmth and making me feel at home; at peace; finally. The best days at Gladstone park were not the summer days or even fall, they were springtime days with a promise of a full bloom come the summer. Summer never came and the just about blooming flowers started to wilt until they died in my heart. Maybe summer is not my season, it is too hot and scorching towards my soul. Maybe it burns so brilliantly that it erodes my life away and I’m lost in a sea of light that is so bright that it’s hard to make out night from day. Maybe I need to stay in the promise of the bloom, for young love and my groom.. maybe I need to be not where I want to be in a place or time, but with a person who is mine… who calls me “mine” and claims me. Maybe I can enjoy the park again when it’s spring, maybe I can go to a different park that reminds me of him.. there is a park that I have been to, where ducks quack in the pond and the fish swim too.. it felt like spring, it was spring.. even when the chilly breeze grazed my skin, his touch kept me warm amidst our spring. Maybe I need to be not where I am, but where the spring is as the spring is the perfect weather for my hair and skin too, it is just cold but sunny but windy and there’s green leaves too. Everything is better with a promise of spring and when the spring springs onto us, it is always a beautiful day too.. like a daydream, too unreal but realistically within reach too. I just need to be, where the flowers bloom for spring and my heart sings too.
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Nov 19, 2024
Nov 19, 2024 at 4:21 AM UTC
The Promise of Spring
Maybe I don’t need the sunlight to blind me, but gentle sunshine to bathe me with its life sustaining light, engulfing me in its warmth and making me feel at home; at peace; finally. The best days at Gladstone park were not the summer days or even fall, they were springtime days with a promise of a full bloom come the summer. Summer never came and the just about blooming flowers started to wilt until they died in my heart. Maybe summer is not my season, it is too hot and scorching towards my soul. Maybe it burns so brilliantly that it erodes my life away and I’m lost in a sea of light that is so bright that it’s hard to make out night from day. Maybe I need to stay in the promise of the bloom, for young love and my groom.. maybe I need to be not where I want to be in a place or time, but with a person who is mine… who calls me “mine” and claims me. Maybe I can enjoy the park again when it’s spring, maybe I can go to a different park that reminds me of him.. there is a park that I have been to, where ducks quack in the pond and the fish swim too.. it felt like spring, it was spring.. even when the chilly breeze grazed my skin, his touch kept me warm amidst our spring. Maybe I need to be not where I am, but where the spring is as the spring is the perfect weather for my hair and skin too, it is just cold but sunny but windy and there’s green leaves too. Everything is better with a promise of spring and when the spring springs onto us, it is always a beautiful day too.. like a daydream, too unreal but realistically within reach too. I just need to be, where the flowers bloom for spring and my heart sings too.
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Today I woke a happy fellow Saw dancing daisies in the meadow The sun was up to greet me so With golden smile all aglow Its rays of light of sparkling bliss Did plant upon my cheek a kiss Then wrapped me in warmful embrace And set my beating heart apace For springtime's grace has superseded Savage winter which we heeded Its colours blend a joyful soul With heavenly palms we extol The beautiful spring that whispers love That fits my hand just like a glove Today I am a happy fellow Dancing daisies in the meadow
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Sep 7, 2023
Sep 7, 2023 at 9:03 AM UTC
Dancing Daisies
Sitting here in the car with the windows semi-down there is a bloom of content as the door is swung open to receive a cool breeze which breaths on my face and glides over my feet relishing their woodland walk my body embracing the warmth of the end of May as Springtime collides into summer
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May 27, 2023
May 27, 2023 at 10:52 AM UTC
Almost Summer