Archives for posts with tag: spring

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MAY HAIKU
by Matsuo Bashō

The sun’s way:
hollyhocks turn toward it
through all the rains of May.

IMAGE: “Hollyhocks,” watercolor by H. Cooper. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Matsuo Bashō (1644–1694) was the most famous poet of the Edo period in Japan. During his lifetime, Bashō was recognized for his works in the collaborative haikai no renga form; today, he is recognized as the greatest master of haiku (then called hokku). He made a living as a teacher, but renounced urban life to wander throughout the country to gain inspiration for his writing.

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THE TREES
by Philip Larkin

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old?
No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

PHOTO: “Branches with Green Spring Leaves” by Elena Elisseeva. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Philip Arthur Larkin (1922–1985) was an English poet, novelist, and librarian. His first book of poetry, The North Ship, was published in 1945, followed by two novels, Jill (1946) and A Girl in Winter (1947), and he came to prominence in 1955 with the publication of his second collection of poems, The Less Deceived, followed by The Whitsun Weddings (1964) and High Windows (1974). He contributed to The Daily Telegraph as its jazz critic from 1961 to 1971, articles gathered in All What Jazz: A Record Diary 1961–71 (1985), and he edited The Oxford Book of Twentieth Century English Verse (1973). His many honours include the Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry.

Spring coffee
OUTSIDE OR IN
by Marcia Meara

I may go out to the garden today,
Where the sun is bright in the watered silk sky,
And a ruby gem flits from tree to tree,
As a cardinal, woos his love with burbling songs,
And goes about the business of building a nest,
Promising new life in the weeks ahead.

I may go out to the garden today.
The dog days of summer are drawing near,
Threatening to bake the roses,
Scorch the herbs, and wither the grass,
In a sweltering, impossible heat,
Which will trap me inside by the end of June.

I may go out to the garden today,
To sip icy tea from a sweating glass,
Catching my breath between the chores.
Pruning and weeding, and raking the paths.
Racing the pages of the calendar,
As they flip through the last days of spring.

I may go out to the garden today…
Or maybe I’ll laze indoors, instead,
Beside the window, in a comfy chair,
The stack of books nearby, a siren call,
Luring me to open their covers,
And visit those gardens blooming inside.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Marcia Meara is a native Floridian, living in the Orlando area with her husband of 28 years, two silly little dachshunds, and four big, lazy cats. She’s fond of reading, gardening, hiking, canoeing, painting, and writing, not necessarily in that order. But her favorite thing in the world is spending time with her two grandchildren — nine-year-old Tabitha Faye and one-year-old Kaelen Lake. At age 69, Marcia wrote Wake-Robin Ridge, her first novel, and Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love. She has just published her second novel, Swamp Ghosts, set alongside the wild and scenic rivers of central Florida. Marcia is now working on the next Darcy’s Corner novel, a sequel to Wake-Robin Ridge, and will soon start on the next Riverbend novel, the sequel to Swamp Ghosts. In the past year, Marcia has also had her poetry appear in four Silver Birch Press anthologies: Silver, Green,Summer, and Noir Erasure Poetry.  Her philosophy? It’s never too late to follow your dream. Just take that first step, and never look back. You can reach Marcia through her blogs and other social media: Bookin’ ItWho’s Your GrannyFacebookTwitterPinterest.

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April Showers Bring May Flowers
by Karen Chappell

April showers bring May flowers,
That is what they say.
But if all the showers turned to flowers,
We’d have quite a colourful day!

There’d be bluebells and cockleshells,
Tulips red and green,
Daffodils and Chinese squill,
The brightest you’ve ever seen.

You’d see tiger lilies and water lilies,
Carnations pink and blue,
Forget-me-not and small sundrop
Glistening with the dew.

We’d have fireweed and milkweed
And many more different flowers.
Mexican star and shooting star,
Falling in the showers.

And if all the showers turned to flowers
On that rainy April day,
Would all the flowers turn to showers
In the sunny month of May?

IMAGE: “Spring Flowers” by Tom Gari Gallery-Three Photography. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

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MAY WITH FLOWERS 
by Thom Amundsen

A melancholy ordinary day
while traveling along a dusty way,
I thought of the month of May
how sweet to see your eyes today.
 
That’s when the flowers begin
a sojourn outward from within.
In May our hearts long to pin
us down with sweet romancin’
 
Remember those distant afternoons
we’d linger passing minutes in swoon
I might now in May recall a tune
making love underneath the moon
 
I would believe in you in May.
A saucy time when hips would sway,
dances while your eyes made me stay
in your arms – please don’t go away.
 
Let you hold me in your arms tonight
I want to comfort you too if I might
we can win the war of evil tonight —
May flowers bloom in morning sunlight
 
Spring is in the air, it’s May everywhere
so don’t despair, soft wispy eyes so fair.

IMAGE: “May Blossom” by Priska Wettstein. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Thomas Amundsen has been writing poetry nearly all his life, but recently attacked it with a feverish urgency, enjoying dabbling in many different variations of verse. He is a family man, teacher, director of theater, and an uncertain poet. Visit him at thinkingoutloudagain.wordpress.com.

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ODE IN MAY
by William Watson

What is so sweet and dear
As a prosperous morn in May,
The confident prime of the day,
And the dauntless youth of the year,
When nothing that asks for bliss,
Asking aright, is denied,
And half of the world a bridegroom is,
And half of the world a bride?

MORE: Read “Ode in May” by William Watson in its entirety at poemhunter.com.

PHOTO: “The Bride” by Joana Kruse. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sir William Watson (1858–1935), was an English poet, whose reputation was established in 1891, with the publication of ‘Wordsworth’s Grave,” thought by many to be his finest work. After WWI, he was largely forgotten, until a number of literary men in 1935 issued a public appeal for a fund to support him in his old age, but he died the following year. He was an example of a writer who, though initially popularly recognized, went out of fashion because of changing tastes. (Source: Wikipedia.org.) Read his collected poems at gutenberg.org.

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MAY
by Nimuae

Welcome the May as
life weaves a new spring from her
pink and white blossoms. 

IMAGE: “Pink cherry blossoms” by Sonja Quintero. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

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HAY FEVER
by Caitlin Stern

Some view the coming of Spring with dismay
as May flowers blossom from April showers
and more pollen wafts on the breeze every day.
Noses sneeze mayday messages that last for hours
eyes water, and throats catch. For those it seems
the flowers and new leaves in glorious hues
deliberately wreak mayhem on outdoor dreams
of picnics or bike rides—only stuck indoor blues
unless with luck and medicine they can find
uncongested breathing and maybe peace of mind.

IMAGE: “A Single Wish” by Amy Tyler. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Caitlin Stern grew up in San Antonio, Texas, where she read in trees, avoided team sports, and “published” her first book in elementary school. As she grew, she wrote and read more, developing into an avid bibliophile and writer. She followed her love of books to Angelo State University, where she worked as a tutor at her school’s Writing Center, and later as a Teaching Assistant while she earned an English MA. Recently, she has edited two mystery novels and a poetry collection, and had poems published in Silver Birch Press’ Summer Anthology and Noir Erasure Poem Anthology.

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MAY
by Hilaire Belloc

This is the laughing-eyed amongst them all:
My lady’s month. A season of young things.
She rules the light with harmony, and brings
The year’s first green upon the beeches tall.
How often, where long creepers wind and fall
Through the deep woods in noonday wanderings,
I’ve heard the month, when she to echo sings,
I’ve heard the month make merry madrigal.

How often, bosomed in the breathing strong
Of mosses and young flowerets, have I lain
And watched the clouds, and caught the sheltered song —
Which it were more than life to hear again —
Of those small birds that pipe it all day long
Not far from Marly by the memoried Seine.

PAINTING: “The Seine at Port Marly” by Camille Pissarro (1872).

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Joseph Hilaire Pierre René Belloc (1870–1953), born in France and raised in England, was a writer, orator, poet, satirist, and political activist. He has been called one of the Big Four of Edwardian Letters, along with H.G.Wells, George Bernard Shaw, and G. K. Chesterton. Belloc observed that “the first job of letters is to get a canon,” that is, to identify those works which a writer looks upon as exemplary of the best of prose and verse. For his own prose style, he claimed to aspire to be as clear and concise as “Mary had a little lamb.” (Source: wikipedia.org.)

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MAY
by Jonathan Galassi

The backyard apple tree gets sad so soon,
takes on a used-up, feather-duster look
within a week.

The ivy’s spring reconnaissance campaign
sends red feelers out and up and down
to find the sun.

Ivy from last summer clogs the pool,
brewing a loamy, wormy, tea-leaf mulch
soft to the touch

and rank with interface of rut and rot.
The month after the month they say is cruel
is and is not.

SOURCE: “May” appears in Jonathan Galassi‘s collection North Street, available at Amazon.com.

IMAGE: “Apple tree blooming in late spring” by Steve Kuzma, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  In addition to publishing two volumes of poetry, Morning Run (1998) and North Street (2000), Jonathan Galassi is an eminent translator of Italian poetry. Galassi studied poetry at Harvard University with Robert Lowell and Elizabeth Bishop. He is the recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship and is an honorary chairman of the Academy of American Poets. In addition to acting as poetry editor of the Paris Review for 10 years, Galassi has served as a senior editor at Houghton Mifflin, and as executive editor and later president of Farrar, Straus & Giroux. In 2008, he received the Maxwell E. Perkins Award, which recognizes an editor, publisher, or agent who “has discovered, nurtured and championed writers of fiction in the U.S.”