Springtime Is Here
...and springtime is here
flowers blooming everywhere
white masks on faces.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Where Have Gone Those Masks?
Where have they gone?
All those masks of the past!
Many masks hiding faces of the ones clever.
One was of love pure,
Another was of friendship innocent
And another was of care entwining.
Those masks had a power
That mesmerised the weak minds for some time.
Where are those masks?
No one sells them as the marketeers
Don`t have much to fill the wallet
From these little transparent masks now.
Masked faces have faded out from amidst us all
And there walk many without faces at all!
The poet himself has none.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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And blooming
Blooming blooming
You are blooming.
You are white tulip
You are tube rose
You are passiflora
You are mutabilis
You are marigold
And what not
What not you are.
Your world
Wonderful world
I am
With You
You are blooming
Blooming blooming
And blooming.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Blooming
Spring already
Flowers blooming
Birds humming
Sing their sweet
Sweet song
The air
Full of blossoms
Blooming flowers..
Blooming plants…
Blooming love
Spring is clean..
Spring is fresh…
Spring is that new beginning
We pray for in the end
poem by Alexsis Daniels
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First Day Of Spring
I know today's the first of spring.
I wonder what the spring will bring?
I know it will bring blooming trees
and pollen that will make some sneeze.
I know it will bring lots of flowers
to stir our senses and feelings for hours.
I know it will make the earth come alive
and bees and wasps building a hive.
I know it will start the ritual of love
and an increase of cloudless skies above.
I know it will bring springtime rain
that will end with rainbows that can't remain.
I know it will make me happy to see
the warmer days and tranquil sea.
What I don't know is what I will do
if springtime wishes don't come true?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Like A Fresh Brook Flows
Winter is gone.
And again Spring is here...
On the scene.
Dawn leaves its chill to a warming.
As birds are heard chirping.
And all of nature seems to sing.
Smiling faces seen to grace,
In places where we go.
Letting known their feelings shown.
As blooming flowers are exposed.
And laughter shared among the children,
Bring instant memories.
And romance filled remembered dances,
Slowly...
Like a fresh brook in a forest flows.
Winter is gone.
And again Spring is here...
On the scene.
Dawn arrives with Sunrise warmings,
As nature scents with a lingered tingling.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
As blooming flowers are exposed.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
And romance again like a fresh brook flows.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
As blooming flowers are exposed.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
And romance again like a fresh brook flows.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Come Springtime
come springtime
vienna, austria
your flowers
i shall smell
your mountains
i shall trek
your air i shall
breathe
come springtime
on the month of june
with her.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Days Are Now Hotter Than They Were Before (Rondel Prime)
Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find
while the spring brings out what it has in store
in a time that is gentle, sweet and kind
while glory waits just outside the front door
and happiness is even in the slight wind.
Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find
and spring feels as it will last forevermore,
will it brings the most joyful times to mind,
when people in fun do each other adore
as if they can all unhappiness rescind.
Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find
poem by Gert Strydom
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There Are White Flowers In Her Hair
There are white flowers in her hair,
blue-white stars when she laughs
in her eyes shining like rainbows,
with a own innocent beauty
with the coming of spring in the air
between the blooming flowers,
in rainbows shining like her eyes,
she finds where the prettiest flowers grow,
she is bounded to loveliness,
she notices roses that are dark like blood
in her eyes shining like rainbows,
but in her cheeks there is a gloss.
Delighted she stands at corn fields
clouds dark and white,
in rainbows shining like her eyes
there is somewhere a pot of gold.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Missing Spring
I know that the spring will be here soon
and the flowers will start to bloom.
What I do not know is when it comes
will it take me out of this gloom?
I live with the days that still are cold
and rub my hands together.
I'm tired of waiting for warm spring days
and worrying about the weather.
But what if spring does come this year
and I don't see your face?
Then springtime might as well stay away
for it can never replace
the absence of you and how I feel
and all the flowers will only steal
the warmth of my springtime day.
So the winter might as well stay.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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1,2,3!
I did it once,
You did it twice,
They did it trice;
1,2,3!
Playing around in the garden of love when,
The beautiful flowers started blooming;
But, there is no place like home.
Pump, dump, lump, crump, clump, jump!
And by doing what is right always;
For, the beautiful flowers have started blooming.
Rump, trump, grump, slump, sump, hump!
For, i did it once and you did it twice;
But, they did it trice! !
1,2,3!
Playing around in the garden of love when,
The beautiful flowers started blooming;
But, there is no place like home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Undress me! ! ! ! !
Living under a cover
Hiding me.....
Undress my emotions
I want to break free
The inside clown
Long left the stage
Under his mask
A human disguised
Friend, foe or love
This human decides
Changes identity
Changes faces
Amidst the crowd
Masks to change
How do i select? ? ?
When i've lost the clown......
Humans are not unique
Indeed not
Carrying their masks along
Identical and fake
My lost identity
Glued with masks
Shed me off this burden
Undress me
Undress me............
poem by Royston Serrao
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This Time Is My Time
This time is my time to think about the spring
and all those little bluebirds that have a song to sing.
And when my thoughts are on them
my heart is singing too, singing like a fool
that's so in love, so in love with you.
This time is my time to take it in my stride
and show the world I love you and never let it hide.
Let all the springtime flowers make me feel like them,
blushing with rosy red colors over and over again.
There won't be another time like this.
I can't let it pass me by.
For when the springtime's here again
if you're not here I'll cry.
Now this time is my time to think about the past
when all those little bluebirds flew
'cause springtime doesn't last.
Then sadly I'll remember when I had to say
good bye to love, goodbye to you
'cause my time went away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Confidence
he does not really care
how he appears to her
a mutuality she shares
with him: they are like
flowers
blooming independently
with their white petals
always focused to the face of the mighty sun.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Multiple Faces And Vulnerability
shall i pretend to you that i have only one face forever?
you are silent
you think like a deep river
despite the storm when the waters from the mountains come
force you to rise and run and rage
you are my night and day
you have seen the changing of my hues
i turn red like a rose
become white like a carnation
become sturdy like a bark of the oak tree
sometimes i turn into stone
you see me and touch me with your wind and mist
like a diamond i wear some corners
some faces for me to glitter
to find meaning in the life that i carry within my arms
a lull
rocking of my feet
mechanisms of my coping up
in your silence i set aside my masks
and face you
shed off some faces and look at you
i become so vulnerable
as you kiss me in my lips
i quiver
i become so light
i become so alive
i become so real
all the other faces fade like a fume from the funnel
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why blame the masks
arche revolving phases
of a laughter or of a cry
arche living faces
life ful though doomed to die
arche fetish turning
its empty holes into our eyes
the sight of self to fulfill
better try healing what you cannot kill
what's lightless in us or ill
why blame the masks
it's not them
it's us
us in slums of fear of us
us in rage against us
us in shields from us
us in the dark caves of us
or even us with the light masks of us
it's me and you
never really knowing
who is protecting what or who
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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March...A Springtime Tease
Just a touch of Springtime
Only a spritzle or a pat
That's all of Spring
That March will bring
You can bet your butt
On that!
April will be more fruitful
With showers, flowers and such
But March is just a springtime tease
Promising way too much
March is like a Model T
As a month it should be retired
It's only got enough Spring, you see
To make your butt feel tired.
poem by David Whalen
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How Solemn As One By One
HOW solemn, as one by one,
As the ranks returning, all worn and sweaty--as the men file by where
I stand;
As the faces, the masks appear--as I glance at the faces, studying
the masks;
(As I glance upward out of this page, studying you, dear friend,
whoever you are;)
How solemn the thought of my whispering soul, to each in the ranks,
and to you;
I see behind each mask, that wonder, a kindred soul;
O the bullet could never kill what you really are, dear friend,
Nor the bayonet stab what you really are:
... The soul! yourself I see, great as any, good as the best,
Waiting, secure and content, which the bullet could never kill,
Nor the bayonet stab, O friend! 10
poem by Walt Whitman
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Exaltation On A Cool Kitchen Floor
I wanted to come visit
you waiting in the springtime
When the leaves change
I wanted to come visit
You waiting in the springtime
When the leaves change
The ground outside is begging
For that newness that surrounds us
As we dance back through the screen door
In the sunlight of mid-April
But the glow won't stop the smiles
That are spreading on our faces
As we fall down on the kitchen floor
And she's laughing
about something
that she had heard earlier
And I can't help noticing that she
Is sitting closer to me
Than she ever has before
song performed by by Bright Eyes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do not linger to gather flowers to keep them, but walk on, for flowers will keep themselves blooming all your way.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Spring and I
What is it about a springtime morn
that makes me feel I've just been born?
Is it the air smelling so sweet
that creates for me a new heartbeat?
Or the blossoming petals all anew
that creates new visions for me to view?
Maybe it's the tranquil blue skies
that's encouraged me to arise
and see the world differently
with uninformed opinions
an unadulterated sensitivity
that makes me feel brand new.
Maybe it's the springtime rain
that falls with purpose and poise
like a lullabye devoid of noise
that soothes my newness and my form.
Is that what makes me feel newborn?
If it is then let it rain each morn.
But as the grass and flowers grow
it is with sorrow that I know
that my feelings of rebirth
will join the ages of the earth.
The springtime is just a short respite
like the older form that I must fit.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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