Sunday
He reached out and took my hand,
lingering warmth from the early morning
flowed between us.
Bird song piped and twittered.
Gentle spring sunshine
broke through the chill March wind.
By the edge of the canal
I placed one foot in front of the other
and my heart smiled.
poem by Diana Rosser
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Related quotes
Port Albert
The silver gulls mewing in the Village, the fishing boats moored to the pier
The gentle waves break at the jetty in fancy these scenes to me near
The last time I was in Port Albert the black and white bird known as pee wee
He piped in the afternoon sunshine on a flowering pittosporum tree.
Port Albert in Southern Gippsland doesn't change with the passing of time
A fishing Village by salt water the bards by it inspired to rhyme
The artists have captured it's beauty on canvas for to hang on the gallery wall
And all of those who have paid it a visit the memory feel glad to recall
The last time I was in Port Albert in September in early Spring
On a day of bird song and sunshine that memory to me seem to cling
A warm wind blew in from the ocean it was such a marvellous day
A gift from the Goddess of Nature to me for to carry away
From the fishing Village of Port Albert that developers yet have to find
The Utopia of Southern Gippsland are words for it that spring to mind
In the old cafe in the Village we enjoyed cappucino and cake
And I will re-visit Port Albert if only just for old time sake.
The silver gulls mewing on the jetty, the sun shining bright in the sky
As we drove on out of the Village this time it would not be goodbye
For I will return in September in the early days of the Spring
When magpie will pipe on the gum tree and blackbird will whistle and sing
poem by Francis Duggan
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Morning Summer
AS I sit there dreaming of the morning sunshine
heart beating with the teardrops on my face
I never know as you walk away that morning
silent of the moment and my soul remember dim
Everything was dard that morning,
Never had the love of that summer
and my wait cried in the sunshine morning sky.
Watched the bird flied in sky,
to the soft hope for growth again.
But in my heart I hear the love song
as I admit my dream
that keeps me beating, over and again.
poem by Natasa Tocuc
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I am never at my best in the early morning, especially a cold morning in the Yorkshire spring with a piercing March wind sweeping down from the fells, finding its way inside my clothing, nipping at my nose and ears.
quote by James Herriot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aubade
Mystical Morning Song came whispering
It's melodious rhythmic sounds
For the spring time lays in the Garden's
Of lovers floral bouquet abed in the ground
Waiting for your happiness in your love to grow
You continue to wonder in absolute awe
While prolonging whispers of lover's musical breeze
That embraces The Spring and welcomes Winter's thaw
The warmth of the sun rays come in loves burning
Filling all nature and you with serene
Allowing all new Spring buds of love to open
Tantalizing aroma's of new memories to be made
Come the Mystical Morning Song Spring
Dedicated to: Jeri, Aka, Morning Song
With love
A Morning song is an Aubade
Or the regret of lovers that Dawn
Has come too soon
il n'est mie jors,
Saverose au corps gent
Si me consent Dieus
L'aloete nos ment
Transalation:
It is not daylight
O sweet one with the gentle body
So God help me
The Lark lies to us
(-Provencal, twelfth or Thirteenth Century)
poem by Theodora Onken
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Tis Not Of Love Or Love Of Song
'Tis not of love or love of song the male bird ever sing
Or any sense of happiness for to celebrate the Spring
His song born of aggression with borders to defend
In his war cry to his own kind he is not one to pretend
His song at early morning carrying in the freshening wind
Is meant to be his defensive shield against males of his own kind
His neighbour male sings back to him his message too is clear
All through the Spring in their gift of song they play their game of fear
The poets who write of songbirds and of their joy of song
Of songbirds lives and songbirds ways have surely got it wrong
Their songs may seem a thing of joy but not meant to be that way
'Tis not of joy that they do sing at the dawning of the day
He warns his neighbours in his song this is my territory
And if my borders you do cross you have to deal with me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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When The Early Buds In Spring Begin Opening (Persian / Rubiyat Quatrain)
When the early buds in spring begin opening
and each bird a song of joy does sing
I see the sunshine in your golden eyes
and to me your love does great happiness bring.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Spring Did Come.
Spring did come,
On butterfly's wings.
On a flitting bird,
And the song it sings.
Spring did come,
When the flowers bloomed,
When it filled the air
With a sweet purfume.
Spring did come,
On the morning's breeze.
Spring did come,
On budding leaves.
Spring did come,
On blades of dew.
Spring did come,
In skies of blue.
Spring did come,
With a joyous ring.
Spring did come...
Welcome, Spring!
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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Today A Back To Winter Day
Today a back to Winter day a chill is in the breeze
In early Spring in Victoria we do get days of under fifteen degrees
Today between the heavy showers a brief burst of sunshine
Yet compared to the heavy rains of yesterday today seems even fine.
September came in with a sunny smile only twelve days ago
But the past few days seem so different it seems cold enough to snow
Old Winter goes into early Spring some have been known to say
In that assumption there's some truth or so 'twould seem that way.
A pair of young red wattlebirds out of their nest unable yet to fly
Their parents utter their warning cries if danger lurks nearby
Each passing hour to them makes a difference tomorrow they might enjoy
With the help of their strengthening wings the freedom of the sky.
Today a back to Winter day though bursts of sunshine between the showers
And raindrops glittering in the sun on the beautiful wildflowers
Old Winter goes into early Spring and a chill is in the breeze
Though frail pink blossoms are in bloom on the nectarine trees.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Early In The Morning
Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring Shine
The warmth Spring, soft touch my face
With bloom the flowers everywhere
The sunshine meets the blue skies
Watch the beautiful morning
Feel the flowers of spring, so fresh,
The morning of spring fills with joy
I dream of touching the moon light,
Staying in the heaven
Where, I will call his soul
And sweet moment spent with him.
The warmth breeze, whispered to my ears
With the happiness of sharing life together
Listen to the soul of the spring
Where, I ‘all dream of the perfect love
Till I give my life to him.
poem by Natasa Tocuc
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The Wind Of March
Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling, I watch the shaken elm-boughs, knowing
It is the wind of March.
Between the passing and the coming season,
This stormy interlude
Gives to our winter-wearied hearts a reason
For trustful gratitude.
Welcome to waiting ears its harsh forewarning
Of light and warmth to come,
The longed-for joy of Nature's Easter morning,
The earth arisen in bloom.
In the loud tumult winter's strength is breaking;
I listen to the sound,
As to a voice of resurrection, waking
To life the dead, cold ground.
Between these gusts, to the soft lapse I hearken
Of rivulets on their way;
I see these tossed and naked tree-tops darken
With the fresh leaves of May.
This roar of storm, this sky so gray and lowering
Invite the airs of Spring,
A warmer sunshine over fields of flowering,
The bluebird's song and wing.
Closely behind, the Gulf's warm breezes follow
This northern hurricane,
And, borne thereon, the bobolink and swallow
Shall visit us again.
And, in green wood-paths, in the kine-fed pasture
And by the whispering rills,
Shall flowers repeat the lesson of the Master,
Taught on his Syrian hills.
Blow, then, wild wind! thy roar shall end in singing,
Thy chill in blossoming;
Come, like Bethesda's troubling angel, bringing
The healing of the Spring.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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A Need For A New House....Or Home...
early morning
when the doors are still closed and the windows still tipsy
like the whole house
you fly away
the sun comes out with the clouds
early morning you fly away
away from it all
the clouds are floors and grasses
and you are a lonely bird among a flock of chairs
early morning you fly away
thinking about nothing
you fly away and you feel like a leaf inside
that gentle beast
it is a ride-awA Need For A New House....Or Home...ay
among the paradoxes of life
and its ironies
early morning there is this flight that takes you to a stop-over
of your life
no one knows that you are grieving
over a search for what you feel
the one you had which you lost
intentionally
among the flock of chairs landing early morning
on unstable floors
early morning you take a cab
you choose still
which house
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lost Spring
I was born, once, in a spring,
When the mountains bloomed,
And the snows melted;
That very spring in March.
The skies filled with the song of birds,
The air with the fragrance of flowers,
The water shone like diamonds;
That very spring in March.
Oh I wish, I wish, to go back,
Once more to my childhood,
To that lost paradise;
That very spring in March.
poem by Alina Luiz
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The Best Day Of The Year
This morning very early I heard the magpie sing
And suddenly it dawned on me it's the first day of Spring
The dawning of September and on the stringybark
The white backed magpie whistled sweet music in the dark.
The first day of September the best day of the year
That is if you are living in the Southern Hemisphere
For Spring the Season of beauty and of greenery and youth
A time of bloom and grass growth when seedlings take to root
The Spring came in at midnight from places far away
She crept in through the darkness for her annual three months stay
And magpie he woke early on the stringybark tree
And for the welcome visitor piped his sweetest melody.
This morning very early before the dawn of day
The magpie welcomed the visitor from places far away
And the first day of September the best day of the year
That is if you are living in the Southern Hemisphere.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Victoria's Weather
On fifth day of September five days into the Spring
The currawongs the birds of rain on the high gum trees sing
And weather back to Winter change and chill the breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
In latter days of Winter the weather nice and fine
And morning paddocks gray with frost that melted in sunshine
And temperatures rose through the day to near twenty degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze.
Victoria's weather changes quick it's always been that way
And a heavy shower of cold Spring hail has left the garden gray
A high of five a low of two that's what the forecast say
In the only place that you will get four Seasons in one day.
The currawongs the birds of rain sing on the tall gum trees
On this the coldest day of Spring it's only five degrees
And through the wood on Selby hill the chilly breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Home To You
Heart is feeling like a sunbeam
In a distant land
I am soaring cross the surface
Coming home to you
You are far away from me
I’m holding like a song
Love song in the tailing wind
Coming home to thee
Sunshine in the window glass
Face in golden light
Planet surface under me
Flying home to you
See the home in hearting sound
See you there for me
Feel the distant starry sky
Sailing home to you
Wind is tugging at the wings
Banking on the breeze
On the back of bird in sky
Soaring home to thee
Bird is flying to the place
Of planet earthing line
Moving to the grounding place
Moving home to you
Landing on the tar place run
Sinking on the land
I am here my beauty one
Coming home to you
Heart is pounding, you are there
On the surface place
Heart is soaring like a bird
Beating home to you
Hand is stretching out to you
You your gentle touch
Feel it burning on my skin
Holding home to you
Arms around me, round me here
Body holding firm
Spirit soaring like a sail
You are here with me
Walking to the home place laughter
Hands in moving rhyme
You are with me, you are here
I am home with you.
poem by Jonathan Drane
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The Summons
In morning
you sent
towering clouds
and fine ice driven
into spring roses,
red petals scattered
on pure white ground
and took my breath away,
so now I seek you
like death
clear and clean
in lingering day
as green and golden,
long shadows flow east
and birdsong fills
nodding trees.
Breathless
I hear you
in gentle rhythm
of swaying wind
I hear my father’s
song again
empty at last
fulfilled.
poem by Steven Federle
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His Footstep
To Lady Wemyss
The boy will come no more
Although I listen and long;
The sound of his foot on the floor
Was like an old song.
His foot had the music in it,
And now the music's dumb --
Like the song of the lark or linnet
Glad that Spring's come.
There's nothing stirring at all, --
'Tis quiet all by yourself, --
But a wee mouse in the wall,
The clock ticks on the shelf.
Like the song of the lark or linnet,
That's singing early and soon,
His foot had the music in it
Like an old tune.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Something Deep Down In My Heart (2)
something deep down in my heart is so beautiful
it is like a blue bird with black shiny beak
one early morning it sings a song
it is lovely
it is sweet
it is gentle
something deep down in my heart is a beautiful poem
that once you have read and shall never forget
it is crisp and fragile
and it is for you and it says deep down from the bottom of my soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spring
Good morning dear daddy,
Good morning dear mum,
Good morning dear Teddy,
It looks the spring has come.
Awakened at the dawn
My dream at once has gone.
I’ve heard the song of starling,
Our feathered friends are coming.
The sparrows are chirping,
The titmouse is whistling,
The starling pours the trills,
The warmth of spring it feels.
The magic sounds fill the world
The drops from roofs are pearled.
These drops are ringing,
The whole world is singing.
The sparrow’s song cares the ear,
Its sounds are magic and fair,
And here was my thought:
On its wings the spring was brought.
Birds are scurrying around
For a nest to be found.
All around is in the motion
Seeking for the devotion.
The starlings rise into the sky.
I also wish to fly.
My heart began to think,
The sun began to wink.
***
The days are getting longer and brighter.
A lot of time for a poet and a writer.
A lot of time to think everything over
And…….to become…….A Doer!
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
March 20th,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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