Spring
I know it ‘aint Spring down here
But with most of you in the Northern Hemisphere
Slowly coming out of hibernation
I thought “why not”
Let’s give it another shot
I await your entries in anticipation
So there you have it, a poem about your new dawn, new beginnings, Spring.
As usual put your entries here as a comment or write a post and link it here.
Closing date March 25, 2014
Boadicea's Chariot 
Soutie, your rap intro is cool. I’ll see if the old muse is lurking anywhere! 🙂
Good old Rogers and Hammerstein could always be relied on at times like this:
“I’m as busy as a spider spinning daydreams,
I’m as giddy as a baby on a swing,
I haven’t seen a crocus or a rosebud,
Or a robin or a bluebird on the wing,
But I feel so gay in a melancholy way,
That it might as well be spring,
It might as well be, might as well be,
It might as well be spring.”
I can’t exactly identify with line 5 but, hey!…….whatever blows your dress up! (Dan, Alabama)
Here’s quickie from me.
Entered with fullest apologies to:
Thomas Gray (1716-1771) whose poem “Ode on the Spring” I have butchered.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173569
Odious Spring
So! Where the dirty Winter snow
recedes from long dead grass
neglected lawn will, as we know,
be seen by all who pass.
The soaking rains, at times non-stop
leave puddles, mud and slop,
into the house to bring.
Grey clouds on gale force winds do fly,
no Sun seen ever in the sky,
and ne’er a bird does sing.
Where’ere the snowplow pass’d in haste
lie heaps of toxic salt
the verdant berm is laid to waste
the growing season halt.
The first mosquitoes have their say
responsive to the first warm day.
My neck the target of their sting
in pestilent clouds they fly
their hard bites causing oafish cry,
a painful rite of Spring.
Now comes the toiling hand of care
the stubborn thatch a’raking
A nose made pungently aware
old doggie turds awaking.
The ground still hard from winter frost
all trees still bare, all leaves still lost
the wind a rasping, biting cold.
Fingers frozen, so are feet,
a glass of red would be a treat.
I must be getting old.
Now contemplating, with a frown
much work, no progress seen.
The lawn is bald in patches, brown
grass which should be green.
”Be patient”, echoes in my ear
it’s still so early in the year
for the results to show.
“How vain, expecting things to bloom”
I say, returning to my room
as it begins to snow.
And here’s a bowdlerised ditty from me (see #2):
‘Happiness is avoiding the news’
I’m as busy as a PR spinning headlines,
I’m as giddy as that skater when she fell!
I haven’t seen the Oscars or the Emmies,
Or Rebekka Brooks’s latest kiss-‘n’-tell.,
But I feel so gay in a ‘fifties kinda way,
That it might as well be spring,
It might as well be, (no not Archbishop Welby)
It might as well be spring.”
Spring is sprung, it’s cold and damp
It’s time to start the mower
The trouble is, my manky knee
Makes me mow the grass much slower
Boom, boom.
Spring chickens, Spring cleans,
Spring beetles, Spring boards,
Spring fevers, Spring boks,
Spring tides, Spring rolls,
Spring onions, Spring greens,
Spring mattress – back to bed.
My first ever poem, and it shows 🙂
Time
I watch the young’uns on the beach
How gracefully they laugh and play
Look in the mirror as I reach
The wilting of my Autumn day
Growing old’s not for faint hearted
When body sags and daily aches
And Mums and Dads have departed
When memories are what day makes
I watch the young’uns on the beach
Running around, doing their thing
Knowing that it’s now out of reach
That glorious time of my Spring
Soutie, did you forget something? 🙂
More Jay, not at all, stay tuned 😉