To spring (in reply to John Keats)
When the last impact of winter disappears,
the sun starts to glow bright in its longing,
cold days are dissipated by sunshine
you arrive in your pretty enchantment
with joyful countenance,
in a dashing conquering,
causing everything to sprout new
skipping along like a young child capering,
then you spread you bridal gown out wide
run jolly and overjoyed
so that insects, birds unite with you rejoicing.
Everybody are swept away by your jauntiness
when blossoms are snow white, golden yellow, blushing pink on branches
insects, birds, the wind, the weather are in love with you, are your followers
as if everything in your presence have great joy,
I hear your voice in every whispering
while you hop along, spread your hair and are flaunting
as a girl, slender and pure bringing arms full of love
full of life, full of passion and still young,
you sing the whole day long
drunk with love
stretching your arms out to me, circling out wider.
For you, everybody sings a paean
the wind, birds and insects sing glad
as if you sweep the feet out from under everything
from the big enchantment, that everything living gets from you
as if your rule will never pass,
suddenly all living things are exuberantly free
and you are so innocent, so without suspicion,
but for me you stay a love child
blinding with your beauty
and even the first rain worships you
seeks pampering from you.
[Reference: To Autumn by John Keats.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Four prayers during the yearly seasons in the Highveld
I. Spring begins
Spring begins in green almond leaves,
in blossoms appearing snow white in a cobalt blue sky
where the sun sits brilliant white, glowing more intense than golden chandeliers,
where flowers appear and bridge the skeleton of every tree
while rain now pours down regularly,
sieves down in every bush and in the lane
with yellow and pink blossoms
appearing daily, puffing out.
Lord, let these times become a tribute
and what was once dead and winnowed
now become joyous, as a hymn of praise to You,
let fruit appear from the blessing that You are showering,
let my weak youth now overflow splendid, intact
in a life grounded on You, let Your light shine through my branches.
[Reference: Vroegherfs (Four prayers during the yearly seasons in the Boland: Early autumn) by N.P. van Wyk Louw]
II. In this graceful spring
In this graceful spring
a glorious sun is shining so exuberant and happy
that I am straying, caught are astonished by Your world
where branches daily get new flowers:
flowers are spreading prettily on almond trees
peaches, apricots en plums are in full flowering
in colours of yellow, pink and snow white
and insects, bees and birds arrive in a wonder world.
where joy now jubilant without pain
is fulfilled in every flower, in my words
appear as Your biggest blessing
while You let glory come down from Your heavens,
that the whole of humanity, knows of growth and maturity,
insects, birds and the whole world shout out Your glory.
[Reference: Uit hierdie ligte herfs (Four prayers during the yearly seasons in the Boland: Out of this light autumn) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
III. Now the earth is glowing days long
Now the earth is glowing days long,
in the bright light that shines from a cloudless sky
and the last trees are still flowering
before spring disappears with the onslaught of summer.
Everything is still jubilant with flower upon flower
that uninterrupted find secret power,
in full growth devolving to tasty fruit
binding joy, energy and taste
in a harvest serving the Creator Himself,
gloriously taking us to a magnificent experience
where we admire the magic power of His works
and realize how glorious, overwhelming summer is:
that what once could flower
now turn into the best fruit, with branches full everywhere.
[Reference: Four prayers during the yearly seasons in the Boland Winter by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
IV. Summer rain
Serenity fell overnight like rain
on the dry meadows of my existence
and uninterrupted and once unobserved the blessings appeared
from Your hand between the thunders that were falling around me.
The whole wide world is soaked where Your waters go
when my adult life suddenly bloomed,
are standing before new splendid horizons,
and dumbfounded I come to the knowledge of Your faithful love.
Here where I am overwhelmed by Your grace
I presume that You lead all paths to growth,
as Your power, life, light convenes in sympathy
where each life at a time comes to fullness
and even insignificant creature are regarded by You
with Your love that shower on sinners as I.
[Reference: Eerste sneeu (Four prayers during the yearly seasons in the Boland: First snow) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Summer
The year rejoice with grass
that sprouts out bright green everywhere
and leaves covering
plants and trees.
Life blooms in fruit
that dazzles red, yellow and green on branches
and insects fly swept away,
while the birds sing joyful songs
and the bright white hot sun
hangs high up in the sky.
Lord, give that the fruit coming out of my words
and deeds are not out of conceit
and centred around the I and self, but also stand as a sign
of Your infusion and flower full-blown and great.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Ode To Spring
I
Lovely spring, like an enchanter freeing
the hard dry earth from being dead,
the first of your works I am seeing
while sprouts appear from winter’s bed
on branches blooming flowers glow
in colours of white, yellow, pink and red
while the early summer wind does already blow
more flowers are rising from the grave by your magic will
while your powers works high and low
from the marsh up onto the hill
and there is new life everywhere,
that comes so suddenly from your great skill
while insects, bees and birds flutter in the air
and not a single leave is shed
while in flowering you take great care
while like a princess you veil covers your head,
your wedding dress over all of nature is spread.
II
Your helpers are busy with a big commotion
while into the air with pollen they surge,
while your kingdom stretches over land to the ocean
and from existence, time’s verge
to earth you have constantly life given
with happy awakenings from winter’s dirge
constantly to supreme beauty you have striven
as if by magic coming from fortune’s height
and away you have the touches of winter driven,
away you have swept that dark dying night
while rain fell water are flowing in streams,
back you have brought frivolity and sheer light,
you have turned whimpering screams
into the magic of coming summer dreams.
III
Where you come there is no fear,
no suffering that you bring,
only the jolly songs that one hears
as more and more flowers are awakening
coming to the summing of what joy should be
while your presence is gorgeous and striking,
a gift with love that is coming totally free
while you rush about at great speed,
to nature are bringing growth and tranquillity
coming at a time of dire need
to transform over night when winter is gone
while unseen suddenly you proceed
bringing fruits and the summer on
as of all seasons you are the loveliest one.
poem by Gert Strydom
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To summer (in reply to John Keats)
Season of bright hued skies and great fruitfulness
intimate lover of the raging sun
forever baring fruit in great supply to bless,
from the very beginning your beauty was spun
to supply in sheer kindness
by the Eternal One
as the greatest in beauty, in sheer shimmering
and forever more
a follower of the dainty spring
with sweetness, splendour and fragrance at your core
as spring has gracefully waved you in.
Even children wander stricken through your orchards
in reverence to taste, to smell and your sheer beauty
following the greatest mother, holding you in the highest regards,
but I see thee as utterly witty and past lovely, very pretty
the mature bride that is ever blossoming, ever fruitful
and ravishing, you wade through life, really fair,
always gentle, never reproachful
with the sky, the sun, the wind in your hair
and you make you palace among bed upon bed of flowers
as a immortal queen bedecked in lovely green
fulfilling your duties in the passing hours.
The songs, the joys of blossoming,
are sung in your presence, with thunder and rain
are spent, are swept away, are withering
while you bring forth without pain
and all the elements sing of your great glory
and never like that of spring
with even insects, birds in accessory
your praises sing, with voices that ring
while you rule supreme over your territory
while you feed and heed every living thing
and at your passing, you remain the sweetest memory.
[Reference: To Autumn by John Keats.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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A New Spring (In Answer To Ernst Van Heerden)
There is something radically new to this spring
something fresh, matchless, pure, even bright
it continually brings the realization of new life
of unfolding growth, hope and true love
if we continually love each other, will I already
see you glow in early pregnancy
when the Seven Sisters, Orion and the Southern Cross
glow romantically, with candles smouldering to their ends?
And now when you lie warm in my arms
with your body enchanting, I feel your heart beating
the moon gleams golden and magical
every moment is full of passion
It is visible that the earth is different
trees are covered in exuberant new buds
the grass is full of life and green
when butterflies are fluttering, bees are working buzzing
while thunder blazes down blue-white
with the rain pouring pattering, bringing life
the fluttering, flapping of chattering birds
over glorious trees, at flowers that are blooming, at crops
is a glad exaltation where the farmer, the gardener
and every lover of nature
see the splendour of new life
knows that God does answer prayers
brings rain, wind and sunshine at His time
and in the fishpond goldfishes stare
in love at each other
while the mirror image
catches nature full of life
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Wedding Gown Of The Spring Is More Fair (Rondel Prime)
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring,
when many trees do their bright garments wear
and day and night birds do rejoicing sing,
while insects buzz and flutter in the air
and happiness is in everything living.
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring,
than the silence that is cold and bare,
when some birds do frolic, to and thro wing
their way and gladness is in their flying
until the sun's late afternoon red glare.
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Year Is Revived In New Blossoms
The year is revived in new blossoms
with a golden sun in the cobalt sky,
in my life only Your principles bloom;
bright flowers are preparing to carry fruit.
Days are hot, full of promises stretching forward
to a time of fruitfulness, of full maturity,
when suddenly nature works secretively,
when love in my life comes to expression;
the loveliness of flower upon flower is astounding.
When the loveliness of flower upon flower astounds,
there are birds everywhere singing of joy,
the year spins around from winter to summer
when Your blessings pierce the darkness,
life becomes more full of love and perfect
without any type of strange hindrance
when You create living things to Your image
when new life sprouts out after the pruning,
the year is revived in new blossoms.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Child
My child
Read this book
Mother has bought for you
After which
Mother will bring you for
The usual evening walk
Through the greenery
Rejoicing under the
Light of dusk
With your innocent voice
Filling the air
Remember not to run too far away
Don't hurt those little lives
I know you want to catch
Those jumping insects
To feed your colourful fishes
At home
Leave them alone
Play around
Let's be good friends
With all living creatures around
My child
Your teacher has taught you to sing
Some sweet songs today
Sing them now
And sing them loud
As you run on your little two feet
Mum feels the love for you
Even more in this
Wonderful environment
Of sublime beauty
Those myriad flowers
Welcoming us with
Scintillating fragrances
Bright red roses
Morning glory
Wild orchids
And the hynotic chirping
Of the little birds
In the nearby trees
Welcoming each other
Back to roost
And sharing
Their adventures
Of the day
My child
Let's go home
Dont say ''No''
It will be too late
Once the sun goes to sleep
Darkness will set in
Turn around
And be home
For your study
And bedtime stories
And then sleep sweetly
Till the sun rises again
Brining us the cheers
And promises of another
Wholesome day
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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When I Was A Young Girl
(A Song of Old Ballads)
WHEN I was a young girl, all in a green arbor,
When I was a young girl in Springtimes gone by
All the long days I went singing and smiling,
Down by the roses the sweet days beguiling,
Love in the arbor and love in the sky . . .
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, how happy was I!
Oh, the long days I must sit at my sampler,
Oh, the slow way that the still time would go!
I longed to be running across the bright heather,
'Off with the silk gown and on with the leather,
Following the raggle-taggle gypsies, oh!'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, a long time ago!
When I was a young girl in days that were golden,
When I was a young girl, and life had no smart,
All the world seemed a place for my playing,
Full of great lovers to come to me, saying,
'Madam, I give you the keys of my heart . . .'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, and dreaming apart!
When I was a young girl, I dreamed of my lover,
A tall cavalier who should whisper me low,
'Love, on your lips are red roses a-blowing,
I am your true love, and fast is time going
Am I your true love? Oh, say yes or no!'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl–
When I was a young girl, a long time ago!
When I was a young girl there came my true lover,
Swiftly I knew him in glad days gone by;
Never a sword or a lovelock or feather,
But oh, at his touch 'twas our hearts came together,
Love in the arbor and love in the sky . . .
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, how happy was I!
poem by Margaret Widdemer
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Something About The Girl Called Spring (Sonnet Corona)
I
Just after winter you are back enchanting
with unfolding blossoms on hot sunny days
playing your roles in all your beautiful ways
as if every day is a grand setting
with colours and smells alluring, inviting
man, animals and insects to stray
in orchards, gardens and in the veldt to play
wherever you may be wandering
while insects and birds sing sweet melodies,
even the breeze is charming
in the season that you bequeath
that becomes a time of sweet memories
while everywhere life is swarming;
flowers are as fragrant as your breath.
II
Flowers are as fragrant as your breath
and outside the sun does shine
where flowers and insects ephemeral awaits death
living just as small specs of the will divine.
There are tales about flowers and butterflies that you tell,
about all the minute things, before the first shadows fall
but you have to mention the Creator as well
who fathered everything, created all.
His gardens fill the earth in sheer exuberance
while in summer and spring, in daylight hours
bees, butterflies and birds dance
around the fragrant flowers
in their winged flight,
from early twilight.
III
From early twilight
you are everywhere sent
until the dark night
for the whole world’s enjoyment
and flowering fair
you dance along
without a moment to spare
singing a cheerful song
as a seasonal creature being sweet,
dressed very serene
dancing with fairly like feet
as the essence of the productive machine
and nature everywhere tells,
spring is awaking in smells.
IV
Spring is awaking in smells
with birds singing
rising from the valleys and dells,
sounding in joy about the beauty she is bringing
even every bird, deer and bee,
as the blessings have come
as a time of tranquillity to some
until all of nature is happy and free
when love is finally finding its home
and spring is especially dear to me,
in the air above there’s a vibrant hue
as if it’s a living kind of blue
specked with flocks of birds in their flight;
spring is dressed in white.
V
Spring is dressed in white,
dressed for her wedding day,
when she blesses wherever her flowers stray
in celebration in every day and night
while she dances from early morning light
inviting all her guests, the birds and bees to play,
while she lingers everything is gay
in colours jubilant and bright
with butterflies filling the air,
humming yellow and black bees,
even joined by flying birds that in joy sing
roaming among the almond, peach and pear,
flying to and fro from the blue gum trees
in the unfolding of spring.
VI
In the unfolding of spring
it came to my mind
the words, the deeds and every thing,
of the troublesome kind
that man does to his fellow human beings
as if he is inclined
to act only to his own interest without any feelings,
as if so designed
but around me the new awakenings
are totally unrestrained
in days and evenings
with beauty that is gained
while everywhere flowers are rising,
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing.
VII
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing
as if the Godly plan
in a place where everything is living,
is still in effect for man,
where the songs of birds through the hubbub ring
as if the singing birds are right here
bringing pleasure to everything
making existing so sweet and sincere,
as if from the very beginning
the Lord God was near,
even before human beings were sinning
when these joyous songs fall on the ear:
.
with all of the love that God is granting,
just after winter you are back enchanting.
poem by Gert Strydom
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On Hearing A Magpie Sing
The magpie sings in the bright sunshine of a humid and a warm day
Perhaps he is telling us something that rain is not that far away
For birds do sing in changing weather on a very warm day when birdsong you hear
You know there's a change in the weather that thundery weather is near.
Birds and animals are more sensitive to Nature than we are since nearer to Nature they live
They pollinate plants in their feeding from Nature they take and to her other things give
They are more Nature friendly than we are and on her resources less of a drain
The huge increase in the human population on Mother Nature does place a huge strain.
So little I know about Nature and so much of her I'd love to know
I fell in love with her as a schoolboy now that seems a long time ago
A wise old lady once did tell me that when out of Season the birds sing
That they detect a change in the weather Nature is a marvellous thing.
The magpie he sings in the sunshine on a warm day of thirty degrees
In his song he is trying to tell me that he senses the rain in the breeze
He can detect changes in Nature of her ways he knows far more than I
In his song he tells me that rain is not distant though there's not a rain cloud in the sky.
poem by Francis Duggan
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September's Brought The Spring
The golden whistler whistles on the gray gum tree
And lyrebird in good mood for mimicry
And magpie piping in the morning gray
And currawong tell rain not far away.
I love the hills of Sherbrooke in the Spring
When wattles bloom and all the free birds sing
The voice of yellow tailed black cockatoo
And spotted dove utter his mating coo.
The rhododendrons flushed with bright pink flowers
And the trees look greener after cool spring showers
September brings with it rich greenery
And nest building birds prepare for family.
Were I a bard born with the gift of rhyme
I'd write a song for Sherbrooke in Springtime
And I'd sing my song that some might wish to hear
Of Sherbrooke in September of the year.
The yellow robin singing in the wind and rain
And the sky turn bright and the sun shine out again
And in Sherbrooke woods the wild and free birds sing
And September's come and brought with it the Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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When Days Get Long
I
When summer days get extremely long
the sky becomes a much deeper hue,
a myriad of birds fill the cobalt blue,
constantly singing their gorgeous song
it is as if everything do belong
to the coming spring, are singing true
like some beautiful birds and insects do,
while colourful swarming in their great throng
over the gentle meadow and the valley
filling the tranquil grey evening sky
softly singing a sweet kind of medley
while in jubilance they still do fly
over fields of hay and fields of barley,
sunny day after sunny day pass by.
II
Sunny day after sunny day pass by
with almost a kind of smothering heat
the fields, the open veldt and dirt road lie
far to hot to tread with just bare feet.
Everything shimmers, the poplars that rears
like huge fingers pointing to the sun,
massive broad oak trees of many years
and grass and flowers where life has just begun
glitters in a new emerald green sheen,
the wind rustles things touching one by one
as if finding things where there had not been,
between huge black boulders rocks and stone
the sun blazes on every day the same,
I see the sun making wings of hot flame.
III
I see the sun making wings of hot flame
on the few white clouds in dazzling colours
and in the west there are some small wild game
drinking water while the evening hours
brings the white and blue stars out dazzling clear
with night predators in the pitch black sky
and some more wild game are drawing near,
I hear the hyenas laughing, wild dogs cry,
the growls of lions, the howling of jackals,
I get the smells of the earth and the bush,
I hear some leopards growling, their calls
that are where they are lying in ambush,
at night the predators are hunting prey,
making a living in the dying day.
IV
Making a living in the dying day
swarms of birds fly calling with flapping wings
poplars, cedars and many trees do sway
while the twilight is grey, full of life, brings
as if by some magic, all at play
flying leaves, bats insects and flying things
with a few that lonesome away stray,
most are flying to nests in trees that swings
and eventually places of rest receives
the many small things that are fluttering,
the wind settles among the moving leaves,
the numerous evening birds start to sing
until the full moon shines its silver rays,
when night fades slowly as on other days.
V
When night fades slowly as on other days,
man is still bound by nature and destiny
to the world in which he works and plays
as it probably will be to eternity.
The yellow sun, the cobalt blue heaven
is like it has been from its very birth
with its joyous bright splendour even
like any other day upon this earth
but a time will come when man will be free
from all death and all kinds of destruction
from heartache, the sorrows that he see
with a new amazing introduction
to a place that’s holy, pure and bright;
now suddenly it is silver twilight.
VI
Now suddenly it is silver twilight
and the sheer darkness of night flees away
before the coming new breaking day
with the blazing sheer redness of sunlight
constantly reflecting against the bright
unclouded sky open in its solid grey
with the red blossoming as if its to stay
and in the veldt guinea fowl flees in fright
while a small jackal laughs out its delight
and the few milling dark clouds do stray
before a strong wind as if in spite
and through bushes and grass rocking it plays
churning up eddies before going out of sight
while the hot sun rises with its golden rays.
VII
While the hot sun rises with its golden rays,
you come from a country where rivers meander
where the rain sieves down for many days
where some beautiful wild birds do wander
in lush overgrown tranquil water-meadows,
far away from the busy big city,
filled with thick green living hedgerows
where many bright wild flowers are pretty
but I still do wonder what you will see
in a land where vicious savage beasts
have no civility and do roam free
where the natives have very weird feasts,
where the flaming sun does spare no one,
when summer days get extremely long.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Be Free With Your Love
Be free with your love
Free with your love
Be free with your love
Free with your love
Two young babes in a foreign land
Draw no milk from the dusty sand
Close heir eyes from the night so cold
Feel the love in their mothers hold
Two old men on their different shores
Stretch the world with their tug of war
Tension pulls on a tightening cord
Spread your love over mans discord
Lifes your reward
So sing it to your lord
Be free with your love
Free with your love
Be free with your love
Free with your love
Science stands on threshold of life
Man could be cut by a blow of its knife
Time to live by a new resolution
In the spirit of loves evolution
Two young girls shining in the sun
Feel your pain but they dance for everyone
Beauty lives in their innocent glow
Things so dear should be free to let grow
So let your heart flow
And sing it to your soul
Be free with your love
Free with your love
Now baby
Be free wih your love
Free with your love
Two young girls shining in the sun
Feel your pain but they dance for everyone
Be free with your love
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes Its As If My Childhood Days Come Back
Sometimes it's as if my childhood days come back
and it's as if the colour and texture catches me
when I am astounded by the sheer beauty of things,
by the smell of flowers hanging in the air,
where I see clouds as flakes,
and it's as if the colour and texture catches me
that is spread over the bright blue in small pieces
that brings me back to another time and place
where I see clouds as flakes,
and I am again full of joy and happiness
and the whole sky is full with specks between the blue and white
that brings me back to another time and place,
to the memories of my childhood days
when I see the summer sun rising golden
and the whole sky is full with specks between the blue and white
and the birds and insects are of the loveliness some proof.
Sometimes it's as if my childhood days come back
when I see the summer sun rising golden,
when I am astounded by the sheer beauty of things.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Second Childhood
Some deem I'm gentle, some I'm kind:
It may be so,--I cannot say.
I know I have a simple mind
And see things in a simple way;
And like a child I love to play.
I love to toy with pretty words
And syllable them into rhyme;
To make them sing like sunny birds
In happy droves with silver chime,
In dulcet groves in summer time.
I pray, with hair more white than grey,
And second childhood coming on,
That yet with wonderment I may
See life as in its lucent dawn,
And be by beauty so beguiled
I'll sing as sings a child.
poem by Robert William Service
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La Belle Dame Sans Merci (Original version )
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful - a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said -
'I love thee true'.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!'
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill's side.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
poem by John Keats
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I Begged God for My Life
I cursed the birds
Their droppings soiled my clothes
I cursed the animals
Their droppings soiled my feet
While walking on the beach
I cursed the insects
For eating flowers in my garden
I took a gun
Killed the birds and the animals
Sprayed deadly poison
On the the insects
I was feeling happy
As if I had conquered the world
I heard god’s voice
What should I do with you my son?
You soiled my world
By killing my
Birds, insects and animals
For your greed and lust
I begged god for my life
Promised him to
Treat man, animals alike
Preserve his world
With all my might
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Is Such A Beautiful Evening
Than Spring it is far more like Summer a summery warmth in the breeze
And sunshine on the old Town and Parkland and sunshine on the bushes and trees
The greeness of Spring all around me such beauty that cannot fail to please
The weather quite warm for September well over the twenty degrees.
Though early Spring few birds are singing in the warm sun of the day
They sing in the cool of the morning or in the twilight's fading gray
The Winter is finally over though Winter weather was far from severe
We may be due for an el nino a warm Spring is looming this year.
The heaths and prickly bushes are covered in their blue, pink and bright yellow flowers
They came to bloom in the late Winter in the cool and invigorating showers
The pardalotes by their nest entrance in a tiny hole in the ground
Wee wren sized birds spotted and pretty where they live small insects abound.
It is such a beautiful evening the swallows they chirp as they fly
And the sun with the warmth of Summer is glowing brightly in the blue sky
And the first brown butterflies of September are flitting in the balmy air
Alone and contented with Nature such moments are precious and rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing can compare with the beauty of spring
Nothing can compare with the beauty of spring,
with branches filled with blossoms
in clusters of pink, yellow and white
and every day has a bright sunny look
and everything is pure and lustrous
with fragrant cups that are opening, everywhere it lives
with new energy, as if everything is filled with joy
in the branches birds sing a tribute
bees and butterflies caper,
the sky is open and sapphire blue,
birds fly up and down
and my heart is overflowing
from every loving glance from you,
is knocking stormy almost out of control.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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