Needs Only We Can Fulfill
The way green grass grows in Spring,
Returning from Winter's chill...
To renew with an offering that brings,
A missing of what is wished.
If we took time to redo and commit,
With patience to think things through.
Knowing between us feelings felt are true.
The way leaves bud on a tree as done,
And flowers bloom with a brightness seen...
Under the Sun,
Reminds me of how we met.
Just to say we shouldn't do with promises,
What isn't cool to chill us separately...
Since there are needs only we can fulfill.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Winter chill
Winter chill is here
It is getting near
All those christams days
Are different ways
Winter chill will soon go
Everyone is low
Its time to say goodbye
And make spirits high
Winter chill has finally gone, spring is near
When winter chill has gone everyone give a cheer
In spring its hot and sunny
I'll see you there chummy
poem by Hannah Law
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What Spring Brings
I enjoy what Spring brings.
The freshness of the air,
Supplied by the budding of leaves on trees.
A warming of a breeze that once could freeze.
The brightness of flowers,
As extended daylight hours come.
This rebirth witnessed is welcomed.
I enjoy what Spring brings.
And what that means as Winter melts.
A commitment seems to be given,
To all living beings.
As Mother Nature delivers.
An evolution of beauty,
Slowly growing upon us to know.
How valuable we are to God.
And how this is bestowed.
I enjoy what Spring brings.
The singing of the birds.
The blue of the sky,
And the grass so green.
The laughter of children and the innocence of it all.
The presence of promise...
A remembered frost seemed to have stalled.
I enjoy what Spring brings.
Appreciating I do...
The giving Spring brings with its offerings.
The kind only this time Spring can bring!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Morning In Late June
In the cold depths of Winter the grey butcherbird sing
And only nine weeks or thereabouts till the first breath of Spring
Five days ago of daylight hours the year's shortest day
And time it keeps ticking and ticking away.
The drake in the pond performs his courtship display
As he swims by his mate he nods his head her way
And he quacks to tell others she belongs to me
He will be the father of her family.
The buds on the camellias beginning to sprout
In the coldest of Winter their blooms will be out
They will be cloaked in flowers by the end of July
When the chill winds of Winter blow across the sky.
A morning in late June a chill in the breeze
And the rainbow lorikeets chirp on the flowering gum trees
As with their tongues they sip nectar from the pink gum flowers
Amongst leaves rather wet from recent heavy showers.
The sky clouded over and a chill in the wind
And the first month of Winter is close to an end
And old father time he keeps ticking away
And Spring is approaching with each passing day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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~April Fool~
April flipped herself in
Like a brand new paragraph
For i'd left off in March
And winter 'twas still the subject matter
The frost all but got me
Hypothermia of feelings
Once felt
Like coming into a heated June
My feelings they began to melt
But April flipped me in
Much like an April Fool
Vunerable and needy
Forgetful of what i had
Learned in school
And so another paragraph
Was formed
Along with the rain you did bring
Remind me-Mother Earth-
If you will
That not all flowers bloom
In the Spring
Aware that the showers
Are supposed to bring
Some Flowers that bloom in May
But ne'er prepared for
Story-tellers with eloquent words
That ne'er mean what they say
The flowers that later bloom
With brillance-aroma and Light
Take out the chill and hold on me still
During a most troubling dark of night
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Rose Tree Of Winter
In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Beautiful Camellias
The camellias bloom in Winter when the skies are cold and gray
When the sun shines at it's weakest and the Spring seems far away
Each tree an individual by the shade of flowers they bear
An avenue of camellias of one shade of flowers more often than not rare.
In shades of pink and creams and reds the colours one might name
Each is an individual for no two look the same
The beautiful camellias resplendent in their flowers
They bloom in lawn and garden on Winter's coldest hours.
In late fall in Victoria in the Southern Hemisphere
The flower buds on camellia tell Winter days are near
And before the wattles come to bloom towards the end of July
The flowers on the camellia tree lose their petals and die.
The beautiful camellias bloom in the cold winter showers
And long before the southern spring they will have lost their flowers
And on June's coldest and wettest day great beauty I can see
A mass of pink flowers blooming on the green camellia tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Spring (Double Rondelet Triolet)
With a deep touch,
The red poppy awakes the grass.
With a deep touch,
Red wants green's vibration so much,
The sun awakes the sky's watch glass.
The sky vibrates like a string bass,
With a deep touch.
The red flowers bloom in the Spring
When the time of the green grass comes.
The sky vibrates like a bass string.
The red flowers bloom in the Spring.
I see the nature's purest swing.
The wind searches his bongo drums,
The red flowers bloom in the Spring
When the time of the green grass comes.
I see His love
Like a white lily among thorns.
I see His love
Like in clefts of the rock, a dove.
When red flower its grass adorns
And her dead Winter, Spring mourns,
I see His love.
Shadows are inlaid in color
When red poppy awakes the grass.
When the land is multicolor,
Shadows are inlaid in color.
When the cuckoo is a caller,
The sun awakes the sky's watch glass.
Shadows are inlaid in color
When red poppy awakes the grass.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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The heart of a tree
With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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August The Thirtieth
The sky overcast the rain comes down in drizzle August the thirtieth the date of today
This time tomorrow yes this time tomorrow Spring will be just a few hours away
Some birds are nest building others on their eggs sitting male magpie is piping on the stringybark tree
At this time of year he attacks without warning even humans who venture near his territory.
The clock on the Winter is ticking and ticking time on anyone or anything does not wait
Fragile pink blossoms on the fruit trees in the garden such things of beauty that Nature create
Spring brings her youth to this Southern Country spreading her greenery everywhere she goes
Wildflowers by the creek are coming to bloom now pink on the buds amongst the thorns of the rose
August the thirtieth the Winter is dying Spring is a beautiful time of the year
White flowers in clusters amongst the pittosporums the flute of the butcherbird pleasant to hear
Everyday nearer to bloom and to sunshine the year one might say fast aproaching it's prime
Winter is dying the year's coldest Season Spring brings her green with her fresh and warm clime.
August the thirtieth the second last day of the Winter rain fall in drizzle from an overcast sky
Pink flowers are fading upon the camellias blooms of the Winter in early Spring die
The Goddess of Spring she is quickly approaching over the cliffs of the southern bay
On this time tomorrow from this Southern Country she will be only a few hours away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Wintery Day
The sun hidden in dark gray clouds Winter wears her shroud of gloom
But on the camellias and the magnolias the pink and white flowers bloom
And though the wind with a damp cold chill is blowing from north to south
Even in the depths of Winter Nature's beauty is about
The soft chirpings of the crimson rosellas so pleasant for to hear
Their notes do not seem to vary at any time of year
And the flute like notes of the magpie in the wooded hillside ring
In this their breeding Season at night his kind does sing
The harsh calls of the white sulphur crested cockatoos one never could mistake
One does often hear them in the wood at nightfall and daybreak
And the bubbling song of the grey butcherbird melodious and clear
Brings to the gloomy Winter's day the joy of Nature's cheer
The rain it falls in drizzles and the breeze has a cool chill
And the dampness of the Winter hangs around the wooded hill.
poem by Francis Duggan
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This Affair Belongs to Spring
Sweet is the smell of trees.
Budding in the sunlight.
When Winter has gone...
And Spring begins to spread.
Creeping from a Winter unforgiving.
Green are the grapes on vines,
Growing in some gardens.
Lifted are blades of grass,
Surrounding flowers yet to bloom.
Making room for Spring,
Has got to have Winter whimpering.
So much laughter now has passed,
With holidays and memories to last.
But stored and packed to dust.
Cleaning up we must for Spring.
To witness beauty Spring can bring.
When we are in fresh air...
It is easier to leave the past alone.
Leave it there!
This affair belongs to Spring!
And Sing we do
To reunite
What this all means,
As Mother Nature brings new scenes!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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False Spring
False Spring
End of September is a strange interlude
in Algarve´s countryside.
Flowers suddenly bloom and yellow grass
turns green, for a few weeks it looks like
spring before sinking back to winter gloom.
The cork tree, dark and nude its dress has
has been turned into bottle stoppers and
and no leaves protect its misery.
Still it is looking inwards pretend not to be
there while waiting for spring, when
my almond three strews pink snow flakes
on the sandy lane and life begins again.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Spring Has Sprung
Spring has sprung
With the abundance
Of blossoming flowers
The feel of affection
With kindling of love
When two souls meet
The spring bring such delight
In the early morning light
With hearts of satisfaction
Spring brings sweet smells
Of lily of the valley
Where the green grass grows
Where the water flows
And children are playing
With fun and laughter
One would say that
Spring has sprung
With such loveliness
That can only be felt
This time of year
With such an exhilaration
poem by Scott Austin
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Those Green Fields Of Kilmeedy
Those green fields of Kilmeedy I do remember still
They meet the gorse and bracken at the foot of Clara hill
A place of peace and beauty with mountains all around
Scarce touched by man's pollution where Nature's joys abound.
Even in summer in Kilmeedy the dawn comes with a chill
But skylark he is piping above the bracken hill
Through Spring and through the Summer he sings all through the day
And I fancy I can hear him o'er mountains far away.
The robin he is piping on flowering hawthorn tree
Across the miles of distance his music comes to me
And dunnock on the hedgerow and dipper in the stream
And song thrush piping gaily on ash by old bohreen.
All through the Spring and Summer the wildering flowers are seen
But green fields of Kilmeedy not always quite so green
In November and December the winds of Winter blow
And January and February bring frost and sleet and snow.
In mid March in Kilmeedy the first wildflowers appear
And weather still quite chilly though days of bloom are near
But April brings her blossoms and leaves behind her green
And May comes o'er the mountain the summer beauty queen.
Those green fields of kilmeedy I see them every day
And I hear the skylark piping o'er hillsides far away
And dunnock on the hedgerow and the dipper in the stream
And those green fields of Kilmeedy have never looked so green.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Autumn Falling Leaves
When all have been and gone away,
Like leaves from green to amber orange,
Falling down and to decay,
Is the time for all in nature to fall,
And the leaves on the trees show it all,
Autumn and its falls of fall,
Where all the branches have dropped their leaves,
All have gone except the evergreens,
Showing signs to us that live among,
Four seasons weather,
Where Autumn is,
Just like in life,
When full circle of life is known,
A start in spring where buds appear,
Then in summer full bloom trees will be,
Hence, fall shows all,
When nature falls,
Begining another season,
Winter and chill tempetures,
Where nature decays,
And leaves do fall,
To generate again,
Renewing its life,
Come spring again,
Untill then,
Autumn sheads its leaves of blossom and blooms,
And soon again autumn begins,
From new to old,
And then old to new,
Buds in spring and leaves of green,
Showing birth from what did decayed,
And brought forth from,
What was bear on the trees,
From where beneath was where once,
Those Autumn falling leaves.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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The First Of September
The morning it is breaking cloudy and gray
It does seem another cool late Winter's day
But the birds in the Parkland they whistle and sing
Believe it or not 'tis the first day of Spring
The first day of September the day of the year
When to Australia in the Southern Hemisphere
The Spring she arrives for her three months stay
With much warmer weather just a few weeks away
The Spring has arrived with her wildflowers and green
And her beauty in gardens and parks to be seen
Spring she arrives and she brings with her new life
And in parks and gardens Nature's beauty is rife
For the first day of September a cool chill in the breeze
But the birds chirp and whistle on the bushes and trees.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Manchester of South India!
Coimbatore is cool in summer,
I was in Red-fields in Coimbatore,
In the ground floor of a house,
Surrounded by flower plants;
Green everywhere,
With red and yellow flowers,
Hot is not felt,
Water is chill;
Weather is cool,
Summer is not felt,
Cool Coimbatore,
Manchester of South India!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Love Has Its Seasons
A cool chill sweeps through the air
winter is approaching
soon the grass will have a blanket of white
nights will get longer
then soon it will be over for another year.
Spring will be with us
new growth will spring up from the ground
the days will get warmer
when summer once again appears
spreading its colours everywhere.
Then it is back into autumn once more
and the chilly air that it brings.
Love has its seasons also to share
sometimes it can be frosty
and winter chills fill the air
it can be cold
like the white blanket of snow.
Love can be like spring
imparting new life as it begins to grow.
The glow that if offers
is like the warming summer sun
that blossoms into beauty
before the ravages of autumn come
and the years trickle away.
poem by David Harris
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The Beautiful Azalea
The beautiful azalea is a woody shrub that never grows into a tree
But the pink flowers on the azalea are so beautiful to see
In the cool to warm days of October when Spring is in the air
And beautiful Mother Nature flowers on her green cloak wear,
How lovely the azalea in the cool shade of the trees
In her mass of pinkish flowers gently stirring in the breeze
Such a thing of natural beauty for to beautify the Spring
In the nice days of October when the nesting song birds sing,
In her tiny leaves of light green and her mass of bright pink flowers
The azalea she is blooming in the sunshine and Spring showers
But time it keeps on ticking and the years go quickly by
And how many more Octobers will i live for to enjoy?
The sight of the beautiful azalea in her pink flowers in the shade
A thing of such rare beauty by Nature only made.
poem by Francis Duggan
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This First Full Day Of Spring
Today is the first day of Spring in the southern hemisphere.....
With spring the seasons start anew
The cycle starts again
As each fresh shoot begins to show
And pollen flowers send
The stirrings of this fecund time
The sun higher in the sky
A time of new awakenings
Set free from winter’s sigh
And so each spring time happening
With the promise that it brings
Reminds us all of life itself
And we give thanks for many things
The heady days of summer
Ripe autumn’s harvesting
For all that will be comes to us
This first full day of spring.
poem by David Keig
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