Read Poetry from Spring Vision
IT BEE SPRING
Come on, come on, you sleepy heads
Shake wing and leg, get out of bed
Look at the dust, there's cobwebs too
Patch that crack, yes, that means you
Mum’s awake, wants breakfast now
Get some quick, don’t care how
Check the cupboards, nearly bare
Need repairs, a new door, there
This nursery, it's such a mess
Clean it up, build more beds
Must go shopping, find more food
Need to feed her hungry brood
Up and away, on balmy air
Natures bounty, everywhere
Flowers on daffy, foxglove, reed
Blossomon every bush and tree
Back to dance, and twirl, and bow
What we’ve found, the where, the how
Bulging saddlebags, two by two
Drop by drop, makes golden dew
Buzz busily, bees, make it clear
To all the world, that spring is here
John Shillito
SPRING COMETH HERE
With shallow sunshine on my face
I will quicken up my pace
Winter's icy fingers melt
And lightness in the air is felt
Snowdrops pushing through the soil
They are surely nature's foil
Birds begin to flit about
Soon their mating songs will shout
Muddy patches from the past
Not much longer they will last
Soon the greens will be abound
Signs of spring for us be found
Wakening season it must be
Bees and insects soon we'll see
Blossoms come as if a dream
The land of promises it seems
And as the sun sinks in the sky
We know that time will surely fly
And before we turn around
Spring has gone and summer sounds
Annette Twilley
THE SWALLOWS OF SPRING
Soaring serenity across southern skies
We wander through storms and winds
Across Africa, Morocco, Spain, France
Flying so effortlessly, labyrinth of landscapes
Transform from sand, mountains and sea
Landing in England’s emerald hills, we arrive courageously
Odyssey, our journey’s end, orientating the nests we own
Warbling upon a wing, singing success of coming home
Nicollette Foreman
FROM MARCH TO MAY
Bright trumpet of yellow, herald of spring
Of all the March flowers, this fellow is king
A monarch of glen, garden and field
His colour an emblem, his power to wield
To the sovereign of sunshine all others yield
April showers, rainbows of colours
Runs into rivers and waters spring flowers
Huddles in puddles and pools on the path
Splishing and splashing, kids risking mum’s wrath
When they get home, they’ll be needing a bath
The cherry blossoms bloom in May
Pale pink petals on full display
A gentle rustling of the leaves
Blooms lifted on the playful breeze
Scatter like confetti amongst the trees
Nicole Miller
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SPRING SONG
I hear the cuckoos calm
Sweet madrigal in my chilly breast,
Where winter has a festal.
Fresh spring air, I without a care,
The mountains there, so fair,
I hear the cuckoos call.
I have waited so long, for the
Warmth of the sun, now sweet
spring come to my breast.
Susan Jane Byers
FUTURE SPRING GLORY
I’d like to wake up one spring morning
And open my eyes to enjoy
A meadow full of freshness
And a playground full of joy
And snowdrops springing up in the churchyards
Looking so white and pure
And blossom surrounding the gardens
And daffodils looking radiant, I’m sure
I’d picture lambs frisking and running
Just loving freedom and sun
And rabbits jumping and laughing
All having so much fun
The ponds would be filled with frogspawn
And new life would be seen all around
And I’d feel God’s glorious sunshine
As it dried up the wet, winter ground
Maureen Wilson
THIRSTING FOR POETRY
Whilst our plaintive shadows rest
curled up, glassy-eyed,
on the icy mountain side
having lost all hope
of speaking the slightest truth,
let us forego Plain English
light a fire and roast
that mountain of tired words,
purse our lips and blow
their molten corpses into
glorious shapes of glass,
ready, for when our shadows wake.
Diane C Baylis
Dedicated to my father Clarence and his father John who gave their lives for freedom and the right to speak.
Diane C Baylis said: “Growing up without siblings in Montreal under a catholic regime of terror, I was bullied, told to be quiet and not to speak unless spoken to. Therefore from the age of 14 writing became a safe way of having a voice. Later, I became a councillor within the NHS for ten years and listening made me truly appreciate the power words carry and how everyone has a unique story to tell. When I come to my last resting place I hope our six children remember me for having an appetite for life, home, cooking and chocolate; and for never taking things lying down.”
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A PROMISE OF SPRING
When earth is still and gripped in cold,
When frost layers sparkle and shivers take hold.
When snow falls silently on woodland floor,
When wind blows drifts against the door
Then one day warm breeze will blow,
Then it will slowly melt the snow,
Then shoots of nature’s softest green -
Then galanthus navalis is seen,
Looking like the last snow shower,
A drop of snow, a snowdrop flower.
Small, white, marked with lighter green
This is a promise that spring will be seen.
Daffodils, primrose and crocus will follow -
A snowdrop’s to spring as summer to swallow.
Sheila Barnfather
Dedicated to the members of Penn Poets who have given me much encouragement to write.
Sheila C Barnfather said: “I am a retired medical secretary and in 2008 my husband died, which left an enormous gap. My hobbies are singing in a choral society, church choirs, playing the flute in a concert band, reading and gardening. I am a member of the Methodist Church and joined Penn Poets, an ecumenical group in 2009, which was the best thing to happen to me. I wrote my first poem in February. This poem is my twenty-fourth and I am now working on my twenty-sixth. It is rewarding to crystalise one’s inner thoughts and emotions in writing poetry.”
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THE ESSENCE OF SPRING
In the essence of sweet fragrant spring
An English season scents the fresh sentience
As the misty morning dew delights the growing garden
Sunlight streaming beyond the new day
When showers fall fleetingly in the elemental skies
Almost bursting into new buds becharming
For the first flowers cup the gentle lush lawn
In the delicate wind the sun warms the crisp breeze
And in the country lambs are born on the land
Where a shepherd tends his flock
Farmers sow their seeds for the plentiful year
The wayside wayfarer walks beside the village path
Gathering flowers picked in the spring season
At Easter there is a spirit of nature
As the crocus crown the meadow grasses
Songbirds cry in the soft sunshine
Singing melodically in musical chorus
For the beauty of spring enraptures bliss
And cupid gives love for immortal souls
A vision of romance in poetry
Elizabeth Tittensor
SNOWDROPS
Winter is almost over now and spring is in the air
The snow is melting fast and the weather is turning fair,
The early morning sun has risen, and there, peeping through snow
The tiny heads of snowdrops begin their springtime show.
They have lain asleep beneath the snow while the months were cold
Keeping warm till the time was right, and spring sunshine made them unfold.
They stand on tiny miniature stems, looking delicate, fresh and clean
Amidst the whiteness of the snow, a perfect springtime scene.
They are certainly a spring vision that tells us without a doubt
That spring is here and that summer days soon will be about.
It’s such a pleasure to see them, and so refreshing now they are here,
For they give us all the promise of the start of another year
Jan Imeson
EVENING FALLS
The flowers in spring are in full bloom
I wish you didn’t have to go so soon
The birds that soar so high in the sky
I love your smile, it makes me feel high
The trees that surround us, the flowers at our feet
Remind me of you, so pleasant, so sweet
The day is drifting into evening, I see the moon
I keep asking, why you left so soon?
It’s that time of the evening when the earth starts to thrive
Everything seems much more alive
As the rain falls lightly to the ground
It makes the most delightful, beautiful sound
You remind me of dusk, so magical to me
You’re with God now, now you are free
I love you so much, I’ll never let you part
Because you are forever, forever in my heart
Michèle Wood
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MOTHER EARTH
Warmth had taken winter leave
Snow had decked the world in white
As if dressing a bride
For an Easter wedding
And safe beneath this glistening gown
Life awaited consummation.
The clock struck spring;
In holes and hollows
Small hearts awoke
Hunger-thin limbs stretched
With blinking eyes
From their long confinement
They stumble-crept
And stiffly foraged
In the fresh-filled larder
Renewed, they lie and drink the warmth
And if they could smile, they would
And if they could sing, the air would tremble
But they have life
And need no more
Roger Manns
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