POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

SPRING AHEAD – PROMPT #47


With Spring starting this week, we want you to put the stale old thoughts away and put a fresh, bright new outlook in your poems. Spring is the season of rebirth and renewal. It is when the first blooms appear to make this world a little easier on the eyes. Write a “new” poem. Be it a Spring poem, a rebirth, renewal or fresh poem, the arrival of Spring is right on schedule. Spring Ahead!

Marie Elena’s Ummm … What the heck is this, anyway?

(Kate, this one’s for you!)

SPRING BUNNIES

I love Spring,

and bunnies too!

And bunny stew?

And bunnies too!

How cruel of you!

Of me??

Of you!

 But, I love you!

I know you do!

But, bunny stew??

Yes, bunnies too.

What’s WRONG with you?!

What did I do?!

I thought that you

Loved bunnies, too

That’s true!  I do!

I just TOLD you!

 Told me?

Told you!

Now, let’s review:

I love Spring,

and bunnies, too.

SEE? BUNNY STEW!

How cruel of you!

*sigh*

Okay now, let’s start anew.

I love Spring,

And bunnies too…

That’s it! We’re through!

What did I do?!


(If I keep this up, my partner is going to kick me to the curb. 😉 )

 

WALT”S ODE TO THE EQUINOX:

‘TIS SPRING (The Bloomings of Our Souls)

‘Tis Spring, and our souls bloom with these words.
Budding brilliance planted deep within our hearts and minds.
Nurtured and tended with the awakenings of life.
A good life made more perfect by we gentle gardeners,
who encourage the growth of these gifts.
The growth of these friendships.
An eternal sunshine beams forth by the glowing of our gardener hearts.
This sunshine brightens our days
and illuminates our thoughts,
making our growth fertile,
and fruitful and productive.

‘Tis Spring and our souls bloom with
thoughts of these friendships.
Thoughts brought to light
like the first flowers of Spring
as they break the earth
and show their potential.
You as gardeners, care for me
and loosen the soil around me,
as I free your roots to branch out
and allow you to grow full of life.
Full of our verbal beauty.
And we give back to each other,
the “caregivers”, with a very bountiful harvest
of the bloomings of our souls.
We are the gardeners.
We bloom brilliantly together.

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309 thoughts on “SPRING AHEAD – PROMPT #47

  1. Poetic Bloomings on said:

    Though Walt and I don’t make it a practice to comment on our poems here, I just have to add my “amen.” Beautiful, Walt.

    Marie Elena

  2. Marie and Walt, thank you, your poems brought sunshine to a cloudy morning!
    Mine was not written for this prompt, I’ve had it for some time, but I think, it fits.

    ~ Gardening ~

    Last year’s leaves, old worries
    Are lifted off her chest,
    I pile them up and burn them,
    The flames are high.
    She moves, awakening,
    Stirring a thousand of fragrances
    That make my head spin.
    The cardinal on the gray fence
    Is so bright, I have to shield my eyes.
    Life is good.

  3. magicalmysticalteacher on said:

    I don’t know what it is either, Marie Elena, but it’s funny! 🙂

  4. ~A NEW SONG~

    Let’s do away with
    slow snow falling,
    stormy attitudes.
    Let’s instead
    grace our faces
    sprightly smiles,
    gifts of gratitude.
    For Spring has risen
    break out with
    puddle-stomping
    and side-walk chalk.
    Get yourself a-grinnen’
    we’re goin to go a-fishin’
    there’s trout to be had.
    So slip away pout,
    somber sigh and sad,
    replace with traces
    of fulfilling happiness;
    sprout instead songs
    of worth and warmth,
    be uplifted and glad.
    Burst forth bright energy
    lying dormant in your soul
    See and feel the sun’s pull
    Live loudly, bloom, be full.

    © H.G. @ P.B. 3/18/12

  5. Pingback: ~A NEW SONG~ « Metaphors and Smiles

  6. connielpeters on said:

    As I Was Walking

    The sun made my skin smile,
    the brilliant sky delighted my eyes
    and the soft scented breeze
    tickled my nose.

    I wanted to laugh out loud,
    sing praise songs
    at the top of my lungs
    and dance in the street.

    At that moment,
    I was homesick for heaven
    where I would be free
    to do all of those things.

    Yes, there is a heaven!
    For if there was no home,
    how would my soul
    know to be homesick?

  7. claudsy on said:

    Ah, Marie. I see you with our friend, having this conversation, hearing the frustration in her voice as misconception follows misunderstanding that follows a simple expression of joy. I can see her grin when she realizes that you’ve come to and Abbott and Costello routine, only to make it a personal one.

    Walt, how you come up with such moving and memorable verse is beyond my ability to imitate. It was lovely and soothing to the soul.

    Now I’ll have to think for a few minutes before trying to ut something together for this. I’ll be right back.

  8. claudsy on said:

    Last Stand

    Winter stole in on a sigh again,
    Flakes, massive and wet,
    Filled sky and covered ground
    Until… all was white and gloried.

    Silence descended on my world,
    Forcing ears to prick, eyes to squint,
    Against the purity that Winter brought
    To hide its withdrawal from our midst.

    Others have blossoms of Spring’s joy
    To liven their mornings, scent their days,
    While rivulets of winter’s passing flow
    Across our path into Spring’s arrival.

    Winter’s last stand is melting now,
    Disappearing from view, not memory.
    Spring rains will veil his visit’s traces,
    Promising better scenery to come.

  9. It’s Poetic. This morning it comes with the (new on the menu) Silly-Sweet Sauce. 😉

    (back later)
    b

  10. THE WINE GLASS

    When I looked at my wine glass
    The trees turned upside down.
    The grass was on the top now
    The clouds were on the ground

    As I touched my wine glass
    My thoughts were all aspin.
    The eyes so used to looking out
    Were somehow looking in.

    When I stared at my wine glass
    I saw a whole new world.
    The once uncertain future
    Before me now unfurled.

    When I picked up the wine glass
    My spirits lifted too.
    My gray and dreary prospects
    Now looked bright and blue.

    When I put down the wine glass
    Much to my surprise
    A more enlightened wholeness
    Did it suddenly comprise.

    The problem with the wine glass
    Was that when the liquid was done
    I was back to my reality
    And all those dreams were gone.

  11. Marie, someBunny loooooooves your poem, and is so glad that she will be able to say she knew the next Shel Silverstein “when.” 😉

    And Walt, “A good life made more perfect by we gentle gardeners…” Indeed. Just beautiful.

  12. Marie! BUNNIES!!! (Okay, I’ve used up my quota of exclamation marks… )

    Marie Marie, I love you, too;
    I know you won’t make bunny stew.
    (The bunnies aren’t so sure of you,
    but, then, they seldom have a clue… )

    Walt, I like your poem, too, even though it has no rabbits in it. And now I’m off to read the others–so many already!

    • Poetic Bloomings on said:

      I’m so glad you like it, Friend Kate! And of COURSE you replied in the cutest possible way. 😀

      Thanks, y’all, for the fun and sweet and generous comments. Whatever it was, it was fun to write. 😉

      What a great start we’re off to today! You guys ROCK!!

      Marie Elena

  13. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    Loved everyone’s work, thus far! Springtime has brought allergies so I am just hoping to feel better. Have fun! Hen

  14. I Planted A Dream

    I planted a laugh
    a sand box burst forth
    I planted a smile
    a rainbow smiled back
    I planted a toy
    songs that children sing flourished
    I planted despair
    harvested secrets we keep from ourselves
    I planted hate
    a hungry sinkhole appeared
    I planted love
    a marriage blossom endeared
    I planted a whimsical moment
    sap squirt me in the eye
    I planted a four-leaf clover
    a leprechaun waved goodbye
    I planted a snowscape
    a pathway grew
    I planted a dream
    that led me to you

    by Randy Bell

  15. janeshlensky on said:

    Walt, yours is a bloomin’ beautiful poem today. Marie, yours is such a frolic of Who’s on First? with bunnies! Loved ’em both.

    Spring’s To-Do List

    Turn up the sun a flame or two
    and let the moon reflect like new
    in skies so deep and clear that ponds
    mirror up’s depth below, beyond.

    Send rain to wake the wintering ground
    and stir the trees ‘til leaves abound
    with flowers and first golden hues
    painting with pinks, whites, yellows, blues.

    Release the pollen! Send a wind
    to pollinate the earth and then
    send birds and bees and butterflies
    to fill the air with wings and sighs

    that nudge each seed and bulb and bloom
    to seek the light and dress its room,
    spreading green tendrils up and out,
    a living, flowering new day shout.

    Send flocks of birds and herds of beasts
    back to their springtime grazing feasts
    to raise up a new generation
    of their kind, a celebration

    of life that says the world is greening
    to hope and light and love and meaning.
    If people don’t praise spring anew,
    let them breathe deep, and sing “Aaaachhooo!”

  16. janeshlensky on said:

    Begun at PA, this is the rewritten version of a poem for my mother. Spring and growing things always stir her in me, and I find myself talking with her as I weed and plant. She would have loved these poems today, all sprouting and green, for she was a poet herself of two collections. I miss her every day.

    Chances

    Some days my memories with you fog,
    and I cannot imagine your voice
    or mine, as we were when you were
    most yourself. Still, my hands are yours,
    worn and busy, stained with foliage,
    and my hair, white long before its time,
    traces a gene back to your mother.

    I carry you in me, as I concentrate
    on opening earth to seedlings,
    trying to sense seasons’ change,
    smelling soil and new buds,
    spring rains and twilight,
    checking old growth bark for new life—
    all learned from you.

    I gather words together, arranging them
    like posies, pruning and shaping
    just as you taught me,
    a poem helping us share a moment
    of observance, a recognition
    of overlooked wonders in need
    of second chances: the first crocus,

    a jay’s feather, a gnarled twig like a cross,
    a stone laced with red veins pulsing
    the heart of the earth,
    a dead hummingbird
    curled like a small fist,
    lying still
    among wild flowers.

    I know when you became uprooted
    from yourself, you longed for death,
    but I could not wish you gone,
    even knowing all I’d learned
    of pain and loss, that death is not
    the worst thing, still I could not imagine
    a world depleted of you.

    I cannot now say “never” in a line
    that has you in it. You are ever.
    As long as I can remember,
    I will feel you living
    and seeding in me
    and take every spring’s resurrection
    as a chance to hold you again.

  17. spring

    If I
    were
    a fainting goat
    I would be lying on my stunned hairy side
    in constant goat-shock at the
    white *faint*
    white *faint*
    white white white white whitewhitewhite
    petals falling off the trees
    and this happens every spring
    *faint*

  18. Another’s Spring

    I pause to watch the robin perched
    atop the viciously pruned crape myrtle,
    surveying the partially green yards and
    announcing his arrival to the females present.
    Cardinals, bluejays, sparrows (and based on
    my dawn awakening, an early rising woodpecker)
    all vying for airspace and prime nesting spots.
    Wipe the sweat, a drink of water,
    grab the shovel and bend my back to
    another of many loads of mulch.
    I think I prefer the bird’s rites of spring.

  19. Walt and Marie, Such different poems, and each one outstanding.
    (Glad I don’t eat rabbit!)

    Here’s mine:

    Shoots in Stress (double shadorma)

    Winter wandered off
    Early spring
    glided in.
    Green shoots sprung up rapidly,
    challenged and bullied

    by a cold air snap.
    We worried
    watching buds
    shivering `til Spring swept back
    in. Buds yawned open.

  20. Great prompt! And surprise, surprise, this isn’t dark and depressing – yeah, I’m shocked too 😛

    A New Season

    Warming rays
    Bring a welcome thaw,
    Ending my
    Infinite
    Winter, leaving the drama
    In my icy past.

    Time has come
    To spread my branches
    In salute
    To the sun,
    Time to grow and blossom as
    I always should have.

  21. Sonnets of Spring…inspired by today:) as I spent the most unseasonably warm day outside!

    The cattail sheds its ragged over-coat
    The pond, released from winter’s icy clutch
    Lies mute, an amber gem on earth’s dull throat
    As sepia landscapes ache for April’s touch
    The sun frolics among the tumbled hills
    Of cumulus and cirrus rivalry
    And in the maple tree a robin trills
    In carols of dissonant harmony
    Ah spring, push back stark winter’s stricken shroud
    And wash the earth with tears from heaven’s cloud

    Renew love’s song upon our tepid lips
    And stir within our hearts re-surging hope
    As earth responds to verdant fingertips
    We tune our ear to heaven’s calliope
    For nature throbs with newness and with life
    The old has passed away and it is done
    Come; thrust aside the chains of harbored strife
    Redemption sings in violet undertone
    No merit dwells in trampled husks of loss
    Come, leap for joy, as sorrow sheds its dross

    As surely as when winter turns to spring
    As surely as the bud inspiring bloom
    As surely as faith’s quiet offering
    So too, God’s grace dispels our cloak of doom
    Come; cast aside your worry and despair
    Tomorrow’s needs have never yet been met
    Inhale the passion tinting fragrant air
    The darling of life’s seasons lifts her head
    With promises, not coin-tossed in the dark
    She spreads her garments over hilltops stark

    The thunder meditates in vaulted plains
    It rolls in afterthought along its berth
    Delivering the tune of sudden rains
    To limbs up-lifted from the patient earth
    And now the dormant still-life bursts with zest
    As emerald kaleidoscopes of glory surge
    An ocean rushing to the azure crest
    Where land and sky in one grand hymn converge
    Ah spring, the harbinger of sun-filled days
    We lift with nature’s voice our songs of praise

    • I’m not going to write another line in my whole life. I’m too intimidated.
      So, you just strung those words together?.. And she doesn’t think she’s a poet.

    • When I was younger, Playboy magazine would annually list the best party schools, the colleges and universities, and my home favorite, Wisconsin, was not among them. Then I noticed a footnote which explained things, saying “Wisconsin is not a part of this equation because it would be unfair to compare amateurs to professionals.” When I read your words, Janet – even your comments below others’ poems – that’s how I feel. It is not going to stop me from writing, nor even from posting, but I certainly understand my place in the world. You are a positive miracle in our world.

    • Janet, this is so lush and beautiful. And Madison is indeed beginning to bloom; I live on the East Side! All hail Miss Forward and the Badger State. Peace, Amy

      • I would like to thank each of you for your beautiful kindness in your words. Daniel, thank-you for your understanding in everything you didn’t say:) I think your poetry is wonderful. As for the rest of you…your words help me keep the fear demons at bay! Seriously. I feel blessed mightily by your friendships. There is no one like a poet to understand a…poet?! See? I said it:) I have a serious case of spring fever as I stroll through this garden bursting with renewal!

        • Poetic Bloomings on said:

          You said it! YAY US!! It is the truth, Janet. You ARE a poet, and one who is obviously greatly admired.

          Your sonnet today blew me away. That is my favorite form (along with haiku), but it doesn’t just skip easily off my fingertips. I am truly painstakingly slow at writing. To pen one such as yours today would have most likely taken me 2-3 hours of thought, writing, and rewriting to get it “right.” You amaze me.

          meg

    • Feels like I’m back in another century, reading an amazing poem.

    • janeshlensky on said:

      Janet, I just love the beautiful images–I would paint it, compose it, dance it if I could. So rich and wonderful. In short, wow!

    • Work of ART!! ❤ Janet!

  22. Spring Song of Praise

    He fills the night sky with celestial diamonds
    Imbues with enchantment, dirt road and dull field
    He embellishes dawn with mercy resplendent
    And covers the earth in Hope’s infinite shield

    He fills each moment with uncharted mystery
    Lavishes meadows with gold diadem
    He breathes on the bud, stirring from tight-lipped prisons
    Ravishing garments for nature’s bare limb

    He nudges the pulse of the seed, deep in slumber
    Urges the soil to unclench its cold fist
    In translucent whispers He flings without number
    Petals of promise to vales heaven-kissed

    He brushes the sky-line with wonder, bold, blazing
    Quiets the daylight with unfettered grace
    From the height of the mountain to the floor of the ocean
    To the hearts of mankind, He does not hide His face

    Sing to the One who appoints every season
    Victory embraces cold-hearted defeat
    Praise be to Him who with love beyond reason
    Showers His glory to bloom at our feet

  23. AT LAST

    The long gloomy grey
    grinds to a halt.
    A glimmer of green
    begins to be seen
    against stark brown trees
    Emerge from the winter cocoon
    into sunshine and cheer
    with primevere,
    dandelion and daisy.

  24. Marie, your poem is so delightful (kept me giggling), and I do love Walt’s idea of blooming brilliantly together.

  25. Pingback: Savage Signs of Spring « Magical Mystical Teacher

  26. ten day hiatus
    a fresh coat on the outside
    her mind ignites

  27. Cultivation

    she shuttered her mind for ten days
    stepped out of her routine
    and for those ten days
    she planted seeds
    and now that she is back home
    back into her routine
    she is ready to open the shutters
    and cultivate the seeds
    to see what might bloom

  28. Pingback: Seven Signs of Spring « Magical Mystical Teacher

  29. Sanguine Spring

    Yes spring, how I love you so
    with your ravishing pinks, yellows, greens
    blooming in front of my eyes like a helix
    or a kaleidoscope of pastels washing away
    winter’s sadness. No longer must I trod
    through sullen fields of sticky maple
    dreams, walking cane in hand, wishing
    for relief in a later day. With a flip
    of nature’s switch, almost overnight it
    seems, I see the lily and tulip budding
    sanguine promises of new beginnings, fresh
    starts replacing gray winter’s grief
    and doubt with hope-filled sunshine.

  30. Metamorphosis

    Her spring
    has sprung
    and she’s looking for something new.

    This fling
    has flung
    her precarious petals far and few.

    Something
    has stung
    her honeyed heart to the very core.

    These wings
    unwrung
    she unfolds, and flies out the door.

  31. Pingback: Honest Thy Ploughs (Sun Scribblings, Poetic Bloomings) « Sharp Little Pencil

  32. Honest Thy Ploughs

    Honest thy ploughs
    for the coming of Spring
    That fields mayst be planted
    their bounty to bring

    Honest thy wits for
    the work to be done
    From fertile ground’s goodness
    thy foodstuffs be won

    Honest thy soul for
    the days yet ahead
    For labours be grateful,
    no prayer left unsaid

    © 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

    Dedicated to independent organic farms and the farmers who strive to stay small and grow healthy food, while Monsanto, et al., seek to buy them out, blanket fields with chemicals, and cram Frankenfoods down our throats.

    For Sunday Scribblings (honest – a bit of poetic license, arcane use of the imperative verb form for “hone”) and for Poetic Bloomings (poems about Spring).

  33. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    (No particular form)

    SPRINGTIME HAPPY 🙂

    Spring in my step,
    Spring in my song,
    Spring in my Heart!

  34. Poetic Bloomings on said:

    Thank you for this prompt, Walt. Reading all these refreshing poems gives the same sense of calm beauty as walking down a blossoming lane.

    meg

  35. Pingback: Hope, in Bloom (a shadorma) « echoes from the silence

  36. HOPE, IN BLOOM
    (a shadorma)

    the winter
    solstice behind me,
    forgotten ~
    before me,
    the promise of renewed life
    seen in each spring bloom

    2012-03-19
    P. Wanken

  37. Pingback: Seven Springs Ago « Magical Mystical Teacher

  38. HEATHER ON THE HILL

    The chill is gone from my weary bones,
    I feel the therapeutic warmth of a summer’s sun
    in this diminished preview spring offers.
    The mist upon the loch rises ever slightly
    as the brightly coloured hues hibernate
    awaiting their blooming. Soon, the hills
    will be awash with the beauty reborn.
    And my worn and tattered heart starts to feel
    the reel that the pipes provide and it can not hide
    the thrill I find in Heather on the hill!
    (And Heather doesn’t mind it either!)

  39. Speaking of rebirth, I have breathed new life into the stodgy old “Say Aye to the Heart” giving it a fresh new and brighter look than the dreariness that had resided there. I wouldn’t be adverse to have you come by for a glimpse and a spot of “verbal tea”! All are welcome.

    http://ayetotheheart.wordpress.com

  40. Andrew Kreider on said:

    BREAKING NEWS
    (A new email service from our Local Paper)

    County denies wood grinder move request;
    two trucks battle house fire on Lexington;
    high school wrestling coach moves to job downstate.

    Ninety-year-old woman who protested
    in a fur-trimmed bikini is found dead;
    tributes pour in for her citizenship.

    Food reporter sets out on “Cupcake Quest”
    Boys basketball team lose in semi-state.
    Tornado watch until 7pm.

  41. SIGNALS OF FOREVER

    The sudden sound of birds this morning,
    the sun so tender and light,
    the color of green so much greener,
    oh,
    so much greener.

    Facing the smell of fresh air never breathed,
    sensing the warmer winds,
    bodies and souls,
    discovering
    this little newborn herald,
    oh,
    where did you stay
    before?

    Listening,
    hearing myself say yes.

  42. @Hen, I’ve often been so sorry that I couldn’t write to you directly, my winner companion – you have no link. And I’m here to say that you’re on my mind and that I wish that you’re fine now spring is all over us.
    About my poem, no. But maybe yes! My first poem I ever wrote is called “Yes.” It’s not a very good poem for anybody else than myself, I guess. But like this one I toiled for a long time. No, I think I toiled with the poem, “Yes,” for more than half a year to get my words right – and would you know? I never posted it anywhere but I always feel good when I return to it. And with this one, spring topic, it’s the same. I have been working. But you’re right. Suddenly I see the link to that old poem I wrote so many years ago. I only didn’t see my husband in it before you wrote your comment. Thanks.
    And sorry, I might change it. Here I am, feeling like I am in a workshop – so please know that I very likely will change it – most of all because I don’t feel completely that it’s finished.
    Hen, again, thank you and best wishes!

    • Henrietta Choplin on said:

      Andrea!!! So nice to hear from you. Yes, me, ever the “writer”, read this poem of yours and imagined this scenario: Andrea has met the love of her life, on her little island paradise and is so very busy falling in Love and writing sweet poetry for him. He must have proposed marriage, and this is her way of telling him “yes”, with this lovely poem. 🙂

      Okay, so that is my runaway imagination. It was a fun story for me to make up. :)!

      Still, the poem is a lovely tribute to Spring! Thank you for sharing! Hen

  43. Here’s my contribution. Hope you like it.

    “Beautiful Trickster”

    I’m on to you
    Beautiful Trickster
    with dewey blooms
    fragrant and colorful
    breathtaking and new

    Oh, let’s not forget babies
    so cuddly and cute
    promises of youth
    the world again renewed.

    But youth will lose it’s luster
    Spring can never last
    This elegance before me
    Doesn’t baffle me at all

    I’ll look at the vibrant colors
    but I’m on to your sick scheme
    Spring is just the promise
    That winter will negate.

  44. Put this on my own blog today, but it fits your theme this week too (and that so rarely happens!), so I’m putting my 2 cents here too. 😉

    Spring Equinox

    All things being equal,
    (dark & light – day & night)
    spring arrives right on time
    sunrise – true east, sunset – due west
    astronomical alignment
    beautiful balance
    Jupiter & Venus
    March across night sky
    your sun directly over my equator
    bearing us onward toward summer solstice
    everything in perfect harmony
    in this corner of
    the galaxy

    PSC

  45. Pamela, a great celestial view. Nice, liked it.

  46. Walt, Marie E, loved your poems. Gardening is my heart, so spring is a longed-for moment. It’s the giving back by nature that is so sweet, for just a few caresses and a little care we offer.
    And I DO like bunny stew.
    Late on my offering, here’s my poem.

    When They Smile

    I love it when the waking world
    responds to me.
    It hears me yawn
    in my garden,
    and sees my arms stretch wide,
    and feels my back and neck bend back,
    like a waking tree.

    I love it when the morning
    then yawns back,
    while I inhale the steam
    of a morning tea,
    and visiting yesterdays plantings
    I sip,
    and the thirsty sky licks
    its longing lips.

    I’ve been longing for a drink
    of greening dawn like this
    all winter , when,
    as deep as my dark garden dirt
    I wanted things to live and grow
    again.

    I watch the dancing willow;
    which song sways the tree?

    My sweet peas tease the trellis.
    Their tendrils caress the slats,
    and I, too, feel the tickle
    inside of me.

    I love to hear grass
    weeping for gladness
    with tears of dew.

    And I love it when my
    baby zinnias smile at me,
    and I smile at them,
    too.

  47. Chicago Good Friday Afternoon

    A tide of traffic surges
    beneath the elevated
    where Spring is riding in.
    She pokes her fingers down
    into small damp yards
    finds one skinny tree
    dressed in garish pink
    Shouting “I am the resurrection and the life!”
    to anyone who stops
    long enough to listen.

    • Henrietta Choplin on said:

      Oh, beauty, amidst all the hustle and bustle.

    • This is subtle, very. Still, there is a direction for me to follow and that’s what’s great here. I like the sound, the rhythm, and I like that I’m brought to Chicago finding a tree – and I stopped to listen and smiled when I thought what people would say if someone claimed to be the resurrection out loud here where I am. That’s where you hit the description of a city and that’s where you hit me. Thanks!

  48. Haven’t had much of a chance to read or write this week. Hope to get back and enjoy all the great work.

    A New Spring (a shadorma)

    Oh Springtime,
    you are here it seems.
    With warm sun,
    gentle breeze,
    bringing everyone outside.
    You were not gone long.

    © 2012 DawnAudio Productions

  49. FRICASSEE OF MARCH HARE

    Gone to pasture
    the farmer’s faithful horse,
    oakened an d choked and tilling
    the remains of winter from the soil.

    Up and over, under and above,
    seeds holding their positions, each
    tucked into rich duvets of earth
    like new-born swaddled babes.

    The spring soil is moist but still
    chilled from winter’s trials. Calendars
    know nothing of this; numbered boxes
    and pretty pictures. Might as well

    sow with the sharp edge of moonbeams
    as trust pretty pictures. The farmer watches
    March hares boxing along the bare
    hedgerows. A dozen or so more

    are spinning circles and leaping
    backflips, trying to catch rain clouds
    in the sky. Rabbits, he growls,
    on my freshly sowed fields.

    His wife grabs her cookbook.

  50. Pingback: Prompts Rounded Up: Friday Freeforall « Margo Roby: Wordgathering

  51. Finally I got it. I really worked with this one because I wanted the dimension of eternity to be there. So here again but in a new version: Oh, and thanks for your comments – they encouraged me – thanks!

    SPRING

    The sudden sound of birds this morning,
    the sun so tender and light,
    the color of green so much greener,
    oh,
    so much greener.

    Facing the smell of fresh air never breathed,
    sensing the warmer winds,
    bodies and souls.

    Discovering
    this little newborn herald,
    oh,
    this little good old friend
    here with me again
    whispering
    for ever.

    Listening,
    hearing myself say yes.

  52. Pingback: Conjuring Spring Rain « Magical Mystical Teacher

  53. Poetic Bloomings on said:

    You all make it seriously SO hard to choose only one “Bloom.” Several of these pieces made me think there is no way that I can NOT choose them. It’s like this week, after week, after week. Walt and I are blessed!!

    meg

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