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Meteo Jan 2018
in winter the trees forget
how to be green

and all the cars
the same colour
as the road

i am driving you home
springtime is around the corner
Timothy Aug 2017
Sweet Springtime blossoms bud and bloom again
     When all that Winter frost is done away
     Each nodding stem, each petal zephyrs sway
That’s laden with petrichor after rain.
Hard by the lea and meadow grass and grain
     Which toss about in breezes from clouds gray
     Along yon wold where creeks flow all astray
And ferns beneath old oaks trees bend and strain.

     O yet with gentle passing day and hour,
All emerald green trees resort their dress
Which one beholds with awe all eagerly;
     So bask in joy and gather up a flow’r,
Time now to cherish Spring in loveliness,
For soon cold Winter comes on greedily.
12 May 2017 7:50pm EDT
Eunyeong Dec 2018
Late snowflakes fall from the sky
Brighter than the flaming sun,
Winter plays rare tricks on us
When Springtime is on the run.

Wildflowers blossom from earth
Their young faces shiny new,
The beginning of this lovely year
Welcomes us warm and true.

Strange feelings run in the air
Soaked with golden sunshine,
Everything will be alive again
When she comes at Springtime.
Jordan Rowan May 2016
Fallen eyes and wandering leaves
It's a wonder why anybody leaves
Can you help me find my way to nowhere at all?
Can you kiss me up against the tower wall?

Sunglass eyes and sun-dressed skin
A whole city wondering where you've been
Is there anywhere else you'd like to fall in love?
No one here can do it just once

Drink to dream your color queens
Stuck between movie scenes
Where we beg time to just give us a break
And wonder how long this perfect twist takes

Laugh and play and cry and sing
A perfect place perfects all things
Springtime never ends on the Paris streets
Where you can fall in love with everyone you meet
I sit at the window sill
Summoning for spring's till
Of thickets of green mandates fill
The procession and succession with frill
All rise with new blossoms being a thrill
My spring garden fitting the bill
For the little birdies that mill
With their pleas of a worms swill
First, let's arrest the lingering winter chill
The deliberating ill
Citing that bitter bitter pill
That sentences my grief's overspill
With the last backlog of snow on the hill
Of the icy roads that overkill
Free my hammer from waiting still
For the arrival of springs shrill
And the exit of winter's will
My eyes hold court for the first daffodil


Logan Robertson

4/08/2019
When spring arrives here in Anchorage, snow and ice turn to slush,
the blue transition from black and gray. and hibernating bears come out of their dens-not that I want to meet them. It's the time of year that the oven
warms with an apple pie, and the aroma of summer is around the corner. This birthing never gets old and one looks forward as the child springs forth in all of us.
!
Birds sing;
bees sting;
dandelions roar;
bluebells ring;
it's spring!
v V v Jul 2018
I have been to where
the lonely go, and I’ve
seen their luring towers,
calling those who
have no hope, who come
from far away to see

if coming was a mistake.

Will we ever know
who doesn’t go?
and what of those that go
but remain unknown?
Perhaps they go at night.

The horror of it.

To not be able to see the end
but still it comes and quickly.
A silent floating moment
in a winter of regret,
a springtime of longing,
a summer of sunshine,
Or a fall to the end

of the world in 7 seconds.

A super cosmic collider of
meticulous destruction.

Whether we stay or go
its all the same,
multi-layered levels of
brokenness,
no one is immune.
No one is immune.

Some spend time putting
things back together,
the spacing in the levels allows it.
Others break over and over
and over again,
no space for repair

while the pull of the towers,
the flaming red towers and
the fog rolling down
from the west promise silence.

When I stood at the edge and looked over,
the noise was deafening.

The ones without space
cannot hear.
TheMystiqueTrail Dec 2018
Mind benumbed with a dreary monotony;
thoughts rambling like the black and gloomy clouds
trying to break the boredom of the winter sky.
Dark dust of melancholy
clouding the senses to a hazy opaqueness.

I hibernate,
with shoots of life
sleeping inside me
waiting for the knock of Spring
on the frozen shell of my consciousness.

Latent I lie,
with hues of magic trancing in my soul.

Latent I’ll lie,
till the soft brush of springtime
paints my world in a
flurry of psychedelic colours.
The Lenora Apr 4
Renaissance of love and wisdom
Arise in the air
Springtime flowers bloom
To defeat despair

Yet here lies all
The secrets told
To live this season
With a spirit that is old
written 4 April 2019.

by The Lenora.

All rights reserved.
Jesse stillwater May 2018
.

He liked to gather up the silence in the springtime
  Pack it up and carry it in an old timeworn leather rucksack
From a distance it looked like he was a senseless fool
  Picking up handfuls of nothing then putting it in an empty jar


No mind is paid to the fleeting glance in the corner of a stranger's eyes
  They were out of reach from the box he was living in
He kept gathering up the endless silence like missing pieces of a lost soul
   It seemed to be everywhere ―  and in it heard,  the only voice he knew


Supposing all his thoughts pondered come forth of silence
  Often resting sheltered beneath branches where it grew on the trees ―
It wasn't just the songbird that broke the stillness in dappled sunlight
  It was the dearth of love that rivers through a strong heartbeat’s
silenced words ...


Jesse Stillwater

04   May   2018
Thank you for reading and considering "gathering silence"
Eryri Jun 1
The weather was changeable,
A warming sun for the previous hour,
Then, without warning,
The wind rose high,
The roof rose higher:
No use running for cover, I thought,
Since the cover had gone the way of my courage.
You see, I had a role to fulfil
Sure, its fulfillment in sunny spells was a breeze
But in a Force Ten gale?
(Cue howls of laughter)
Progress was at the pace of a snail
And nerves are torn to ribbons
(Much like the poor flags).
Was it life or death?
Well, it depended on how much you didn't wish to die.
Luckily for me, my aim in life is not to witness death
And that is why I pushed on,
And huffed and puffed
Until we got our Lifeboat to the stricken drunken Jetski pilots.
Enchanted by spring’s
rustling whispers
     ... whistles swirl
in the pungent springtime breeze;
steeped with a bedazzling
        cadence
   heart dancing
to a hummingbird’s
         whirs

   waves of breath,
of little wings waft,
whooshing throughout
twining honeysuckle lattice
       a
tiny manger
beset of hidden gold
precious speckled eggs, 
silver lining of smallest hopes
   fruits of fruition
   continuum beheld prize,
concealed in interwoven rootlets;
   
potently perfumed flowers
       while away
the waning dark hours;
swollen full flower moon
           waxing yellow,..
         heavenly fragrance
sweetly-scented suckled nectar
  
the one with eyes of a child,
   wonder ― hidden inside,  
   marvel in the light of grateful eyes
imbibing an unholdable moment's
    spellbinding elixir 
    ... poetry alive

air  so poignantly perfumed
       with blossom
        moonstruck
by spring’s frolicking cadency
a reverent moment's
edifying intoxication

       a sobering beauty that just is...



someone ... May 2017
King Panda Mar 2016
I laid an anemone
on the mask of a crying girl
the young mother
the crouching woman
I am beautiful
says the sirens
says the ever-youthful vegetation
of God

I mixed my blood and nectar
on the mask of a dying man
the decay of kiss
the resurrection
I am beautiful
says the anemone
says Adonis in his grave

I burned their leaf-stems
on the mask of an artist
the eternal springtime
the life-death-rebirth deity
I am beautiful
says the martyr
says girl as she wakes
to the sirens

I am beautiful
says the head on the platter
I am beautiful

and the woman descends
the bronze invading
the bronze high-handed
the bronze opening
to the gates of hell
Vicki Kralapp Jul 2013
You're hot, like Death Valley in July,
so hot, one touch could make me cry.
Hot, like the face of the summer sun
and in my heart I know you're the only one.

I try my best to keep my cool,
not wanting to play another man's fool,
But I've been patient for far too long
to tell you what I feel is strong.

You call my name and I grow weak
and struggle just to find my feet.
You make me feel like I was young
like springtime or a song that's sung.

You're hot, sizzling like the sun at noon,
like the sunshine on a desert dune.
Can you feel the love that you've inspired
and give me what my heart desires?
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
there is a saying:
"all flowers are beautiful
until you're sneezing"
SE Reimer Sep 2013
Beside His still waters,
He leads me I'm told,
From mountains of triumph,
To valleys below.

Yet each river I walk,
Cool waters so sweet,
Flows to an ocean,
Churning and deep.

It's mouth opens wide,
Like a traitorous friend,
Emotions poured out,
It feels like the end.

Fresh swallowed by salty,
As in life so endured;
Anguish consuming,
Joy flooded by tears.

Yet through my distress,
In lesson replete, for
There’s growth at the mingling,
Of bitter and sweet.

His sunshine and rain,
My weakness unseats.
His springtime and harvest,
His plan He completes.

And its here that I realize,
There’s no end to His will;
For whether ocean or river,
They are His waters, still.
~

post script.

written in a very dark period of our lives, while still reeling from the loss of a son, this simple muse was not in itself an answer, but rather a small piece of a much larger truth, one a guy named Job came to realize eons before i...   simply stated, i do not hold the keys, nor is it even mine to claim i should be able to understand the ways of my creator.
ConnectHook May 1
­        by Robert Herrick

GET up, get up for shame, the blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.
       See how Aurora throws her fair
       Fresh-quilted colours through the air :
       Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
       The dew bespangling herb and tree.
Each flower has wept and bow'd toward the east
Above an hour since : yet you not dress'd ;
       Nay ! not so much as out of bed?
       When all the birds have matins said
       And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin,
       Nay, profanation to keep in,
Whereas a thousand virgins on this day
Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.

Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen
To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green,
       And sweet as Flora.  Take no care
       For jewels for your gown or hair :
       Fear not ; the leaves will strew
       Gems in abundance upon you :
Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some orient pearls unwept ;
       Come and receive them while the light
       Hangs on the dew-locks of the night :
       And Titan on the eastern hill
       Retires himself, or else stands still
Till you come forth.   Wash, dress, be brief in praying :
Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying.

Come, my Corinna, come ; and, coming, mark
How each field turns a street, each street a park
       Made green and trimm'd with trees : see how
       Devotion gives each house a bough
       Or branch : each porch, each door ere this
       An ark, a tabernacle is,
Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove ;
As if here were those cooler shades of love.
       Can such delights be in the street
       And open fields and we not see't ?
       Come, we'll abroad ; and let's obey
       The proclamation made for May :
And sin no more, as we have done, by staying ;
But, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.

There's not a budding boy or girl this day
But is got up, and gone to bring in May.
       A deal of youth, ere this, is come
       Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
       Some have despatch'd their cakes and cream
       Before that we have left to dream :
And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth,
And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth :
       Many a green-gown has been given ;
       Many a kiss, both odd and even :
       Many a glance too has been sent
       From out the eye, love's firmament ;
Many a jest told of the keys betraying
This night, and locks pick'd, yet we're not a-Maying.

Come, let us go while we are in our prime ;
And take the harmless folly of the time.
       We shall grow old apace, and die
       Before we know our liberty.
       Our life is short, and our days run
       As fast away as does the sun ;
And, as a vapour or a drop of rain
Once lost, can ne'er be found again,
       So when or you or I are made
       A fable, song, or fleeting shade,
       All love, all liking, all delight
       Lies drowned with us in endless night.
Then while time serves, and we are but decaying,
Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.
my boy Robert H. lived from 1591 to 1674.
Jude kyrie Mar 28
This night's aromas are steeped in fragrance
Springtimes first blush touches my face
My heart overflows with the
heady perfumes of all things renewing.

The last touches of a winter sky
Fade in the warmth of the newness.
Above a silhouette of squawking geese
Fly in a perfect Vee formation
With the slightest of gaps
Between their outstretched wings

Springtime sends it coded signals
Rich from the memories of  eons past
to all living things to live be beautiful
Multiply and bear fruit it calls.

A night breeze stirs  my hair
Like a mother's touch.
And my spirit rejoices
At a winters death.
Just LOVE springtime
Jude
Mark Sep 2018
Remember me in spring when blossom's blush
and petals flair a - light in morning mists
that'll haze a rainbow hue - of flowered plush
to portrait mine as every bud untwists.

Upon the birding bath as robins splay
the warbling chirp shall voice as tho' from me
for you my sweet, in springtime bloom of may
shall hear the larking flute of my decree.

The dancing leaves shall tap and Ivy's birth
and Snowdrop's bow as daisy eyes unveils
as fragrant, olive air shall scent of mirth
that once were lost, now shrines as spring prevails.

Vernal rebloom shall stream that pulse of mine
then seek that earthly glow, and there I'll shine.
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