En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Forever My Love

The green earth waits beneath a whitened wing,
haunted by memories of budding Spring,
when love loosed its verdure and gathered ground
in groves of splendor by the river's sound.

Now slides the morning on wood and metal,
falling like rain in each snowdropp petal.
The bright mosaic of radiant hues
is a blinding light that each eye pursues.

The seasons change but the memory clings
and hovers around with its hopeful wings.
Search the memories and gather the green.
Lay them beneath whispers of velveteen.

Remembered, reborn, and riding the rail,
love is the wind that releases the sail.
Forever, my love, I remember well,
the glory of love before glory fell.

I sigh for the past and the future too
as tender sprigs of green start peeking through.
The green earth waits like a pearl in a shell.
A dream in a dream is dreaming to dwell.

poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O You Beautiful Flower

O you beautiful flower
Of pinkish and white
Earth blossoming shower
In spring’s new light
Ground is your embrace
With the sun radiance
Each bud is of grace
And splendor appearance

Light wind singing bell
Will swing your sprout
Like a sway carrousel
In its movement about
A dance of new spring
In meadows of green
To ground now sing
Of budding fresh scene

Rose-tinted so fine
Under blueness of sky
Your growth in sunshine
Now mounting so high
O you beautiful flower
Of pinkish and white
Earth sweetest endower
And spring’s delight

poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Distant Spring

I who love the Spring so well
Shall be sleeping, some glad day,
When her hosts come back to dwell
In their old, familiar way.

I shall live, alas! no more
In some distant April hour,
When the Spring finds wide her door,
Calling leaf, and bloom, and flower.

I shall sleep--but I shall dream
In my home beneath the ground,
And my slumbering heart shall teem
With its visions deep, profound.

I shall know, ere you will guess
(Though with life I have no part),
What new golden loveliness
Stirs within the old earth's heart.

I shall hear the first soft sound
When the Spring is born anew,
And rejoice, beneath the ground,
At the bliss to come to you.

And the dreams that I shall dream,
In that Spring when I am dead,
May arise until they seem
Blossoms white and blossoms red!

poem by Charles Hanson Towne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Inner Silence

Noises that strive to tear
Earth's mantle soft of air
And break upon the stillness where it dwells:
The noise of battle and the noise of prayer,
The cooing noise of love that softly tells
Joy's brevity, the brazen noise of laughter—
All these affront me not, nor echo after
Through the long memories.
They may not enter the deep chamber where
Forever silence is.

Silence more soft than spring hides in the ground
Beneath her budding flowers;
Silence more rich than ever was the sound
Of harps through long warm hours,
'Tis like a hidden vastness, even as though
Great suns might there beat out their measures slow
Nor break the hush mightier than they.
There do I dwell eternally,
There where no thought may follow me,
Nor stillest dreams whose pinions plume the way.

poem by Harriet Monroe
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The Budding

The budding.
A rebirth of a season missed.
Spring arrives to lift spirits high.
Clear blue skies are witnessed...
As white clouds drift.

The budding.
Of flowers and grass and the leaves,
On Oak, Maple and Birch Trees.
Welcomes a lilting done of wind,
Introducing a Spring breeze to ease...
With a life that seems to be enjoyed again.

The budding.
Of familiar love known,
Yet hibernated in the Winter...
Amidst snow drifts.

And we smile and laugh and again forget,
That stress we welcomed to separate us...
From identifying those blessings,
That surrounds us to reach for complete happiness.
To explore and experience all of nature's treasures.

As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding.
The blooming done.
And the joy!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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She waits for you across the river (8/20/11)

She waits for you across the river

In the soft untrammelled field

Beneath the warm sun

She waits to hold your head

as it rests upon her lap

To whisper the words remembered well

Sweet and smooth as promised grace

She waits for you across the river

Go to her now, call her name

She has made a place for you

beside her, with her, now is peace

Her hand reaches for yours, her lips call your name

Your battles are over, won or lost, it no longer matters

She awaits for you there, now is only love

Go to her, go to her and rest

Safe in the warmth of her love

Across the river

in the soft untrammelled field

poem by Ryan Cole
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I want to feel the touch of spring

The mountain waits for the snow thru the hot summer,
hurt and burnt by the sun, yet believes the touch of snow
It snows and covers the mountain like a blanket of love
I want to be the mountain to feel the touch of snow.

The sand of a dried river waits for the rain to shower,
dried and chared by heat, yet believes the touch of rain.
It rains and fills the river, to bring the life again
I want to be the dried river to feel the touch of rain.

The flower waits for the spring thru the harsh winter
Frozen and frosted by cold, yet belives the touch of spring
It warms up and the spring arrives, to flower and spread happiness around
I want to be the flower to feel the touch of spring.

This is the law of nature we have to wait thru summer and winter
hurt, burnt, bleeded, and freezed, yet should believe the touch of spring
God will show Love for those who can enjoy his summer and winter
I want to believe in Love and feel the touch of spring.

poem by Arayath Jathin
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The First Signs of Spring

The first signs of spring bring smiles and joy to us all,

Its the beginning of nature and the birth of the new season,

It brings life and renewal back to the cold plains,

Springing buds that will flourish,

Then open in full bloom for summer,

The young of the cattle and the spring of the lamb,

Are all the signs of spring,

With the snow and freeze temperatures,

Turning into cool breezes,

And clear sunny winds blowing,

Knowing its spring again,

The mundane feelings of winter blues,

Start to diminish in our seasonal affective winter faces,

As the sun shines a bit warmer,

So does the color of our face glow brighter,

And all show well in the spring of their steps,

As even the old can get out some more,

Now spring has arrived with safer passage,

Spring is also a time to clear out,

The unwanted items in our homes as we spring clean,

Then there the things to forget or put in the past,

Is in the spring cleaning of our thinking,

To clear our thinking better for a clearer future,

Then there's the renewal of forgiving,

As we forgive and forget,

Forgiving to start anew,

Is the starting again,

Or re birthing the past,

With a new attitude to help,

Its foundations this time round stronger,

Spring,

Is the time to see how it all begins,

For what is way beneath the ground or hibernating,

In the spring shows itself and nature in it splendor,

For what decays and withers,

The spring shows its second coming,

From what lay beneath the ground all winter,

Springs renews in growth,

And mother nature shows her splendor,

Come the first signs of spring,

We all start feeling somewhat better.

poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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The Maiden's Prayer

SPRING, pretty Spring, what treasure do you bring to me?
Green grass and buttercups, cherry-bloom and may?
Sunshine to be glad with me, and little birds to sing to me?
Warm nests to call me along the woodland way?

Spring, happy Spring, what wonder will you do for me?
Light the tulip lanterns, and set the furze a-fire?
Fill your sky with sails of cloud on waves of living blue for me?
Show me green cornfields and budding of the briar?

Spring, darling Spring, my days will not return to me,
You who see them fleeting, you, all time above,
You who move the whole world's heart, ah move one heart to turn to me,
--Bring me a lover, and teach me how to love!

poem by Edith Nesbit
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I fancy I Can See You Old Duhallow

I fancy I can see you old Duhallow
The swallows o'er your fields wing to and fro
And cows from wintering houses out on pasture
And birds are whistling on the green hedgerow.

I lay upon the bracken slopes of Clara
I see the Kerry hills beyond Rathmore
A skylark sing above the silent mountain
His song bring back to me the joys of yore.

You wear your green cloak of the Spring Duhallow
And your beauty from the mountain side I see
From Millstreet to Kanturk on towards Newmarket
Kiskeam to Cullen and up to Knocknagree.

I often think about you green Duhallow
You were the first great love I ever knew
But many others loved you better than I
And they feel quite content to live with you.

I fancy I can see you old Duhallow
In your green groves the wild birds nest and sing
And swallows fly above your fields and meadows
And cuckoo pipes his fanfare of the Spring.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Empty Nest

I saunter all about the pleasant place
You made thrice pleasant, O my friends, to me;
But you are gone where laughs in radiant grace
That thousand-memoried unimpulsive sea.
To storied precincts of the southern foam,
Dear birds of passage, ye have taken wing,
And ah! for me, when April wafts you home,
The spring will more than ever be the spring
Still lovely, as of old, this haunted ground;
Tenderly, still, the autumn sunshine falls;
And gorgeously the woodlands tower around,
Freak'd with wild light at golden intervals:
Yet, for the ache your absence leaves, O friends,
Earth's lifeless pageantries are poor amends.

poem by William Watson
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green River

Take me back to the Green River
Let my troubles roll on down
Take me when the leaves are falling
That's when my baby's love was still around
My memories take me to the Green River
How plain was the picture in my mind
Autumn leaves were paint in the water
Love was shining in your eyes
How I long for us to return
To the love we had back then
Darling, I'll be waiting a lifetime
For you to take me back again
How I miss the sound of the water
Gently flowing past the trees
How I miss your tender kisses
The way you once loved me

song performed by by Dixie Chicks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dream in Winter

When all the daisies and daffodils
are buried deep below,
and summer's but a memory
hidden 'pon the drifting snow ~
'tis there beneath the whitened glow,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives the dreams of springtime hue
with a gleam of emerald sheen.

When all the trees are bared and bent
against wintry winds that blow,
and spring is but a wistful sigh
'pon the branches that bow low ~
'tis there within the boughs so wide,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives the buds of springtime hue
with a gleam of emerald sheen.

When roses fade 'pon winter's morn
as their petals flee on frosty breath,
and thorns are left to sadly yearn
in their bed of beauty's death ~
'tis there beneath those roses grown,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives a vision of springtime hue
with a gleam of pastel sheen.

When winter brings a world of white,
a wonderland of icy glow,
and ends the seasons of green, and gold,
hidden 'neath a field of snow ~
'tis there the sleeping earth awaits
in a bed of springtime green,
sighing softly through winter's chill,
'pon a dream of emerald sheen.

poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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I Like To Get It Before It's Gone

In the midst of the budding of a birthing Spring.
I stood at the edge of a forest green.
And sought a path to walk through,
When Summer made it.

And the bees would hum,
As the birds did sing.
While I did this one on one,
With Mother Nature doing her 'thing'.

In the midst of the budding of a birthing Spring.
I stood at the edge of a forest green.
And wanted these days to happen.

I love to walk through the park at dawn.
Just to see what's going on.
And breathing clean fresh air everywhere.

I like to get it before it's gone.
Before the noon is born.
When the noises in the air aren't there!

And the bees would hum,
As the birds did sing.
While I did this one on one,
With Mother Nature doing her 'thing'.
In the midst of the budding of a birthing Spring.

I love to walk through the park at dawn.
Just to see what's going on.
And breathing clean fresh air everywhere.

I like to get it before it's gone.
Before the noon is born.
When the noises in the air aren't there!
Or anywhere.
Peace and I,
Choose to be!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Lives Beyond the Tomb

Love lives beyond
The tomb, the earth, which fades like dew-
I love the fond,
The faithful, and the true.
Love lies in sleep,
The happiness of healthy dreams,
Eve's dews may weep,
But love delightful seems.
'Tis seen in flowers,
And in the even's pearly dew
On earth's green hours,
And in the heaven's eternal blue.

'Tis heard in spring
When light and sunbeams, warm and kind,
On angels wing
Bring love and music to the wind.
And where is voice
So young, so beautiful, so sweet
As nature's choice,
Where spring and lovers meet?
Love lies beyond
The tomb, the earth, the flowers, and dew.
I love the fond,
The faithful, young, and true.

poem by John Clare
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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A Spring Garden

The blossoming of new life
A spring garden of beauty
To prepare you to embrace
The season with freshness,
To offer her benevolence
A smile of love and vigor
The beauty of flowers budding
Bees and butterflies rejoicing
Spreading fragrance of spring
To awaken you in her blossom
To begin a new day's chore
To offer your due diligence
To receive her gift of loyalty
To bask in spring’s newness
To immerse in her novelty
To enjoy the season as it unfolds
To soak up in her divine beauty
Wrapped in evening splendor!

poem by Oyekake Satty Joshua
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Last Spring

THIS morning at the door
I heard the Spring.
Quickly I set it wide
And, welcoming,
'Come in, sweet Spring,' I cried,
'The winter ash, long dried,
Waits but your breath to rise
On phantom wing.'

A brown leaf shivered by,
A soulless thing--
My heart in quick dismay
Forgot to sing--
Twisted and grim it lay,
Kin to the ghost-ash gray,
Dead, dead--strange herald this
Of jocund Spring!

I spurned it from the door.
I longed that Spring
Should come with song and glow
And rush of wing,
Not this, not this!--But O
Dead leaf, a year ago
You were the dear first-born
Of Hope and Spring!

poem by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
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My Own Shall Come to Me

I come, I come! ye have called me long;
I come o'er the mountains, with light and song.
Ye may trace my step o'er the waking earth
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves opening as I pass.

I have breathed on the South, and the chestnut-flowers
By thousands have burst from the forest bowers,
And the ancient graves and the fallen fanes
Are veiled with wreaths on Italian plains;
But it is not for me, in my hour of bloom,
To speak of the ruin or the tomb!

I have looked o'er the hills of the stormy North,
And the larch has hung all his tassels forth;
The fisher is out on the sunny sea,
And the reindeer bounds o'er the pastures free,
And the pine has a fringe of softer green,
And the moss looks bright, where my step has been.

I have sent through the wood-paths a glowing sigh,
And called out each voice of the deep blue sky,
From the night-bird's lay through the starry time,
In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime,
To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes,
When the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks.

From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain;
They are sweeping on to the silvery main,
They are flashing down from the mountain brows,
They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs,
They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves,
And the earth resounds with the joy of waves.

poem by John Burroughs
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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