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March Poetry competition – “Spring”

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

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Categories: Competition, Creativity, Poetry
  1. February 28, 2014 at 6:05 pm

    Soutie, your rap intro is cool. I’ll see if the old muse is lurking anywhere! 🙂

  2. February 28, 2014 at 6:10 pm

    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)

  3. February 28, 2014 at 9:07 pm

    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.

  4. March 1, 2014 at 7:39 am

    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.”

  5. Four-eyed English Genius
    March 1, 2014 at 9:13 pm

    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.

  6. March 2, 2014 at 8:17 am

    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.

  7. March 7, 2014 at 7:19 am

    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

  8. April 1, 2014 at 8:00 am

    Soutie, did you forget something? 🙂

  9. Soutie
    April 1, 2014 at 8:17 am

    More Jay, not at all, stay tuned 😉

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