Her Eye Colors
spring
lush foliage
buds of flowers
tiny leaves
sprouting from the
twigs
in Hongkong
where there is no
space for gardens
she draws spring
in the colors
of her eyes
shades of green
and pink and
red and
blue for the flowers
the clouds
the horizon
the sun
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Sweet Violets
They are coming up in my gardens
Why, just like wild flowers they grow
A delicious early spring splash of color
That’s why I really love them so
They are pale as a spring violet can be
A lavender color they are
Tiny with a fragrance so special
The best early flower by far
They always infuse with my landscape
I love the perfect way that they blend
With other flowers like blue Forget-me-not’s
And when finished tiny seeds they send
I do so enjoy my flowers in spring
I even pick them for a wonderful bouquet
I wish you could visit my gardens as well
I’d serve you sweet tea without any delay!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Trimming The Trees, Pruning The Twigs....
on the tree of life
there will be more leaves
and twigs and flowers
on spring
and more luscious fruits
for eating
there is somehow a
need for trimming
what excesses are there
twigs that go awry
leaves that lush for too much
shade
and so we do just that
cut some twigs
take a look and cut some
more
remove some leaves
for sacrifices
for us to some more
and some time
see heaven for once.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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A Love Spring
So Spring warm weather upon with you watch
bloom flowers: Tulip, Orchid, Cherry ect..
That awake Springtime beautiful blue sky
With me, feeling of peace with Spring
Pollen of the flowers trees everywhere
To let you know the Spring coming
Green grass with flowers fill us with joy
Outdoor full of activities
Spring gently warm our souls
To the Spring 's love within you and me forever.
poem by Natasa Tocuc
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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 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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It Is Spring....
when you pose beside those flowers
and you tell me
it is spring! it is spring!
and that i should be happy
because it is spring time and all the flowers
are showing
their true colors
i stop right there
it is not actually the beauty that we are
caught inside
the prison of having to stay and
believe and
hold on to life with awe
it is the true colors
that i am stuck with
not even the spring that merely
springs it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fragrant Flowers
I think that we are ready
For flowers in our midst
All colors of the rainbow
The morning dew will kiss
Sunshine will feel so good again
As winter fades away
Oh, don’t you wish that spring
Could forever stay?
For spring is what brings with it
Flowers we love so much
Nothing like a spring bouquet
To give a happy touch
So hold on tight and wait a bit
For spring is on the way
Those fragrant cheerful flowers
Will be here without delay!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Sense Of Spring
Spring is the loveliest season of them all,
A source of life and love and gentle things,
Reward for winter's frost and icy pall.
A time when fledglings spread their tiny wings.
Spring is the gentlest season of them all,
When lambs their frail appendages must try,
The sheep stay close, concerned lest they should fall,
And gently nuzzle them to help them try.
Spring is the brightest season of them all,
Spring flowers yellow, mauve and red and blue,
And grasses growing silky, slender, tall;
And trees whose leaves are green of every hue.
Spring is the shortest season of them all,
Dissolving into summer's eager call.
poem by John Knight
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Rain-tree
Rain-tree
The rain-tree is of cassia family -
Like an elephant it stands on the road, clothed
With thick green foliage, dark against the sky
All along the Bandra-Kurla road in Mumbai.
You have to exert a little and see
Over the top to see the nazuna-type
Of pink flowers sitting above the foliage
In plentiful numbers, with up-thrust pink hairs.
Unlike the African tulip in front of ONGC
At Bandra Flyover visible from the distance,
Here the pink and green does not show off
As rain-tree flowers don’t advertise themselves.
Unlike copper-pod’s bright yellow flowers
The rain tree flowers don’t weave a carpet:
I’ve never seen the flowers on the ground below
Nor do they wither on the tree, how I wonder!
In monsoon rains, the leaves shine specially,
Transparent drops falling on walkers below,
Or with a thud on the racing car bonnets too,
Some choose to fall on road to rise a bit upwards.
I have not understood why it is called rain-tree:
Are they attracted, peacock-like, to the rain-clouds,
Or does the rain-bird which drinks water straight from heavens
Prefer this tree, and inspire Kalidasa to write Meghdoot?
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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I Owe A Debt To Spring
Oh, I owe a debt to spring,
She brought me wild flowers
And hardy daffodils
Beautiful velvet green carpeted hills.
She brought the mist of April showers,
With the promised bloom of May flowers.
Birds came back to sing,
Oh, I owe a debt to spring...
Seeing the colors of a rainbow dancing
Across the sky,
Spring came in with a lullaby.
I owe a debt to spring for
The love you bring,
To me my love,
To me.
Written Feb.21,2008
poem by Dorothy Holmes
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Spring Song III
HERE'S the Spring-time, Sweet!
Earth's green gown is new,
Lambs begin to bleat,
Doves begin to coo,
Birds begin to woo
In the wood and lane;
Sweet, the tale is true
Spring is here again!
I have been discreet
All the winter through;
Now, before your feet,
Blossoms let me strew.
Flowers, as yet, are few;
Will my lady deign
Take this flower or two?
Spring is here again
Make the year complete,
Give the Spring her due!
All the flowers entreat,
All the song-birds sue.
'Twixt the green and blue
Let Love wake and reign,
Let me worship you--
Spring is here again!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Spring's Accomplishments
Spring brings with it a warm, gentle breeze
Along with the trees sprouting their baby soft leaves
Gently tapping the ground are the soft showers
Bringing around soft, springtime flowers
Now here they come, the butterflies and the bees
Attracted to the gardens and newly awakened trees
The trees emanate such a calming scent of sap
And the birds nestle down for a peaceful nap
As Easter approaches, the sunshine gets stronger
And as spring continues, the days get longer
The spring goes into a deep slumber
And who takes over then? It's summer!
poem by Caroline Bulleck
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Spring's Best of Show
The set is ready and everything is fine
the weather is perfect and so divine
The media is waiting holding their breath
The flowers of spring will show their best
It's spring time and the colors stands out from all the rest
Mothers are walking their strollers in the parks
From mouths of mothers and babes alike
There comes a chorus of oohs and aahs
The sunlight glows and flowers will grow
Spring time is showing its best of show
The colors are everywhere standing out
Beauty in nature there is not doubts
Children are playing and singing songs
The family picnic is coming on real strong
The trees are greening and the plants are growing tall
Soon more will add to this bountiful affair
Summer this year will be such a wonderful time
Baseball and games to the children's delight
With the dance of colors to start off the show
Spring is here and see all the colors so dear
So come on out to the gardens and parks and cheer! ! !
poem by Michael Brock
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Petals & Things
It’s my very favorite time of year
Yes it’s spring, oh glorious spring
The world is alive with changes
Like delightful petals and things
Precious tiny leaves peek out
All along the branches
Buds are getting braver now
Flowers about to take chances
Color is fresh and new again
The fragrance wafts in the air
Gives us hope for tomorrow for
There is not so many cares
For nature is filling in the voids
Without a single string
Let’s enjoy what spring gives us
Like wonderful petals and things!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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I Owe A Debt To Spring II
Oh, I owe a debt to spring!
She brought me wild flowers and
Hardy daffodils,
Beautiful, velvet, green carpeted hills.
She brought the mist of April showers,
With the promised bloom of May flowers.
Birds came back to sin,
Oh, I owe a debt to spring!
I see the colors of a rainbow dancing
Across the sky,
Spring came in with a lullaby.
I owe a debt to spring for the love
You bring to me, my love, to me!
I shall plant moss roses, dear spring,
To dance at your feet,
Spring time is the best time for nature's
bouquet of happiness complete...
O, I owe a debt to spring, for you, my love,
For you!
Dorothy Alves Holmes
A Poet Who Loves To Sing
poem by Dorothy Holmes
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To K.M.D.
In the buds, before they burst,
Leaves and flowers are moulded;
Closely pressed they lie at first,
Exquisitely folded.
Though no hope of change they felt,
Folded hard together,
Soon their sap begins to melt
In the warmer weather.
Till, when Life returns with Spring,
Through them softly stealing,
All their freshness forth they fling,
Hidden forms revealing. [606]
Who can fold those flowers again,
In the way he found them?
Or those spreading leaves restrain,
In the buds that bound them?
Trust me, Spring is very near,
All the buds are swelling;
All the glory of the year
In those buds is dwelling.
What the opened buds reveal
Tells us—Life is flowing;
What the buds, still shut, conceal,
We shall end in knowing.
Long I lingered in the bud
Doubting of the season,
Winter's cold had chilled my blood-—
I was ripe for treason.
Now no more I doubt or wait,
All my fears are vanished,
Summer’s coming, dear, though late,
Fogs and frosts are banished.
poem by James Clerk Maxwell
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A Country Path in Late Spring
The path of mossy ground nestled
In between maternal hedgerows,
That overgrew atop, dimming down
The brilliance of the day.
Embosomed, a calm-cool vision –
Abstract takes of nature, in
Leaf-spattered green shades;
Stem-speckled brown hues;
Shards of sunlight percolating
Through the random flaws to
Up glittering sprites upon the leaves.
And avian chatter bounced along the burrow,
Smattered by the crosstalk
Of busybody insects;
But outside the green comfort zone,
Other worlds of other sounds of other life
Otherwise gave a hint of
Other dozy goings on.
Hawthorn filled the air,
Filled the nose,
Filled the head –
Pungency had overpowered all –
Gave the late-spring-early-summer haze.
Here and there a break of colour:
Odd bluebells – escapees from nearby woods –
Blue-blushing bell faces glancing down,
Aware of their erectness in the stem;
The flaming wing of red admirals
Broke through a hedge hole to
Break up the calm backdrop,
While flitting blue tits gave
To greater-bodied animation.
Nature’s warm narration –
The undertones of life.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Verdant Lands of Spring
(from the title of an NLP anthology) Spring rains begin, to refresh the land,
An' beautiful spring flowers begin, to make their stand,
Orange pink blue yellow and every pretty color,
Decorating the hillsides, in a truly rich splendor,
Making their appearance, after cold winter nights,
And the cold wind that to me, seemed really a fright,
Yet now everywhere, it's turning luscious green,
An' beautiful spring birds, will soon be seen,
Now sweet peas blue bonnet flowers an' daffodils,
Are coloring an' dotting the meadows an' hills,
An' springtime can last as long as it wills,
An' I'll never complain o' the fresh spring rains,
That refresh an' green up, the lovely hills an' plains,
An' meadows for sheep an' cattle an' stallions alike,
An' am getting myself ready, for a long fiel' hike,
An' there will be calves an' lambs, an' colts very soon,
And plenty of grass and plenty of room,
As the verdant lands of spring, burst into bloom.
poem by George Kick
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First rain
The past winter had come
with black ripe
and had turned the green grass,
even the flowers into dead,
yellow withered things
but now in this early spring,
rain was showering the earth
with thousands of kisses,
bringing back life
and the sweet smell
drifted up from the wet sand
as if something great
had come forth
out of the creator’s hand
and later a rainbow
with brilliant colours
stretched from horizon to horizon
against the dark black clouds
while in the distance
lightning bolts were crashing down
one after another
and in my imagination
I could already see
tender shoots sprouting.
poem by Gert Strydom
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