{"id":114,"date":"2013-03-09T20:07:58","date_gmt":"2013-03-09T20:07:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/?p=114"},"modified":"2013-09-08T17:02:25","modified_gmt":"2013-09-08T16:02:25","slug":"spring-poetry-competition","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/competitions\/spring-poetry-competition\/","title":{"rendered":"Spring Poetry Competition to win a Graf von Faber-Castell Fountain Pen"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/pen-company-logo1.jpg\"><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-112\" alt=\"pen-company-logo\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/pen-company-logo1.jpg\" width=\"946\" height=\"263\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/pen-company-logo1.jpg 946w, https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/pen-company-logo1-300x83.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/pen-company-logo1-150x41.jpg 150w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 946px) 100vw, 946px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<h1><strong>Spring Poetry Competition<\/strong><\/h1>\n<p>This competition <span style=\"text-decoration: underline; color: #ff0000;\">has now closed<\/span>, The Pen Company would like to thank everyone for their entries we really enjoyed reading them all. After much deliberation we have chosen&#8230;<br \/>\n&#8230;.<br \/>\ndrum roll<br \/>\n&#8230;.<br \/>\n&#8230;.<br \/>\n&#8230;.<\/p>\n<p>Lesley Fletcher &#8211; The Scripter<\/p>\n<p>Well done Lesley, we will be contacting the winner shortly to arrange delivery.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Calling all poets<\/strong>; at The Pen Company we naturally believe <em>\u2018the pen is mightier than the sword\u2019<\/em> as you can probably guess. To celebrate the written word we would like to invite all budding poets to enter our Spring Poetry Competition.<\/p>\n<h2>1st Prize<\/h2>\n<p>The winner will receive a <a title=\"Graf von Faber-Castell Fountain Pen\" href=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/product\/graf-von-faber-castell-guilloche-fountain-pen\/\">Graf von Faber-Castell\u00a0Guilloche Fountain Pen<\/a> in a choice of colour.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/graf-von-faber-castell-fountain-pens.jpg\"><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" alt=\"graf-von-faber-castell-fountain-pens\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/graf-von-faber-castell-fountain-pens.jpg\" width=\"660\" height=\"507\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p><small>Colours to choose from include;\u00a0<i>Chevron (engraved black), Coral, Indigo, Black, Cognac and Rodium (metal finish)<\/i><\/small><\/p>\n<p>We stock a wide range of <a title=\"Faber Castell\" href=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/faber-castell\/\">Faber Castell<\/a>\u00a0&amp; <a title=\"graf von faber castell\" href=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/graf-von-faber-castell\/\">Graf von Faber Castell<\/a>\u00a0in the UK including pens, pencils and more in our shop, so why not take a look at our range of pens.<\/p>\n<h2><strong>Competition Rules &amp; Entry Requirements<\/strong><\/h2>\n<ul>\n<li>Poems should be themed around Spring (the season)<\/li>\n<li><span style=\"line-height: 1.714285714; font-size: 1rem;\">Poems will be uploaded to our blog, so by submitting your poem you agree to this<\/span><\/li>\n<li>All poems must be\u00a0original\u00a0and not published anywhere else<\/li>\n<li>Entries from all over the world accepted, however they must be written in English<\/li>\n<li>Entries should be emailed to;\u00a0<a href=\"mailto:anna@thepencompany.co.uk\">anna@thepencompany.co.uk<\/a>\u00a0with the subject containing\u00a0<b>Poetry Competition <\/b>and then\u00a0it will be uploaded to our blog (here)<\/li>\n<li>Unfortunately poems containing profanity cannot be accepted<\/li>\n<li>We reserve the right to not publish a poem which we feel is &#8216;unsuitable&#8217; for our website<\/li>\n<li>In order for your entry to count, please share this page of entries on at least one social media site, such as<strong> Facebook, Twitter or Google+<\/strong>&#8230; and why not &#8216;Like&#8217; us on Facebook or follow us on Twitter too!<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<h2>Judging Criteria<\/h2>\n<p>We believe that poetry is best judged by the people and as such we will be using social shares as part of the judging process.<\/p>\n<h3><span style=\"font-size: 1.142857143rem; line-height: 1.846153846;\">Terms and Conditions<\/span><\/h3>\n<p><small>Competition open to anyone, anywhere in the world. Only one entry per person will be accepted. All entries must be\u00a0received\u00a0by 1st May\u00a02013 at midday GMT by email. The winner will be notified within 7 days of the\u00a0competition\u00a0closing. No cash alternatives will be offered as an alternative to the prize of a\u00a0<strong>Graf von Faber-Castell\u00a0&#8211;\u00a0Guilloche\u00a0fountain\u00a0pen<\/strong>.<\/small><\/p>\n<h3>Entries<\/h3>\n<p>Below are a list of all the entries in no particular order, other than that which we\u00a0received\u00a0them. If you like one please free free to share it on Twitter, Facebook, or Google+.<\/p>\n<p>View our full range of\u00a0<a title=\"Faber Castell pens\" href=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/faber-castell\/\">Faber Castell pens<\/a> in our online pen shop<\/p>\n<p>[toc\u00a0<strong>label<\/strong>:Entries\u00a0heading_levels=&#8221;5&#8243;]<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<h5><strong>Suzanne Griffiths, Cheshire<\/strong><\/h5>\n<p>A splurge of purple,<br \/>\nteeming mass and blooming tangle,<br \/>\ndances its way through decaying leaves<br \/>\nemerging as joyous, self-effacing crocus<br \/>\nbobbing heads rhythmically<br \/>\nto welcome in the Spring.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5><strong>Peter Finch<\/strong><\/h5>\n<p><strong>The Coldest March since 87 ~ Is This Spring!<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Its March, It should be spring,<br \/>\nThe bright daffodils unfurl and their trumpets herald that thing<br \/>\nBut the bee sting cold ends of my fingers,<br \/>\nIs telling me, winter lingers.Its March It could be spring<br \/>\nLet our moods as one up swing<br \/>\nRebirth re-growth renew,<br \/>\nCamelia flowers bathed in morning dew.<br \/>\nIts March it would be spring<br \/>\nBut winter has us gripped and is spoiling the whole darn thing<br \/>\nIt\u2019s said, hope springs eternal<br \/>\nBut this winter grip is infernal.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5><strong>Karen Manton<\/strong><\/h5>\n<p>I smell spring in the air<br \/>\nCan it be true?<br \/>\nThe country is under snow<br \/>\nThe public are blue<br \/>\nIn my street the sun shines<br \/>\nThere are only blue skies<br \/>\nMy cat ventures outdoors<br \/>\nI see his surprise<br \/>\nChasing his shadow<br \/>\nAmongst new-budded grass<br \/>\nThe bin-men are whistling<br \/>\nHappy as they pass<br \/>\nIt gladdens my heart<br \/>\nI let out a sigh<br \/>\nThrow open the windows<br \/>\nAs winter&#8217;s gone by!<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5><strong>Brigitte Leprince<\/strong><\/h5>\n<p>Now that Spring is almost there, make &#8220;The Pen Company&#8221; your place to share,<\/p>\n<p>New born lambs, buds awakening on the trees, and the scent of the flowers in the air!<\/p>\n<p>The upcoming spleandour of\u00a0beauty and colours of flowers wherever you look,<\/p>\n<p>What a shame, not to write down these wonderful sights,\u00a0for all to read, in\u00a0a book.<\/p>\n<p>A fountain of life appearing everywhere and\u00a0all the people liberated by the purity of the air,<\/p>\n<p>Bees buzzing as they visit each delicate flower, Butterflies appearing, seeming\u00a0to have no care.<\/p>\n<p>Oh what joy to\u00a0all\u00a0the Spring can bring, everything blossoms and the lives of\u00a0new lambs, are\u00a0seen\u00a0to begin,<\/p>\n<p>Birds sing a chorus for all of us\u00a0to adore and the\u00a0winter\u00a0shadow, is lifted once more,\u00a0for the sun to come in.<\/p>\n<p>Spring is a time for all\u00a0to be happy and carefree, just look around you and you are bound to see,<\/p>\n<p>Everyones happier and somehow,\u00a0things always seem much brighter and better than they used to be!<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5><strong>Leah Finch<\/strong><\/h5>\n<p><strong>Muddy Boots..<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I grad my boots, my rainy day hat to keep out the April showers<br \/>\nStroll to the park greeting daffodils and snowdrops on my way<br \/>\nThe swing sway with screams of spring delight from winter hidden children.<br \/>\nWatching the spring lambs jumping with glee, being born and bleating for mum<br \/>\n.. there is no better place than Shropshire in the Spring time..<br \/>\nI grab once more for boots for hoots and screams in the evening air..<br \/>\nreplacing bleak nights of winter chill..<br \/>\nlong now forgotten in spring fresh air..<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Maureen Fleming, East Kilbride<\/h5>\n<p><strong>SPRING<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Spring is here or so we&#8217;ve been told,<br \/>\nbut how can it be if the weather&#8217;s so cold?<br \/>\nand all of the gardens are covered in snow.<br \/>\nSpring is here?<br \/>\nHow do we know?<\/p>\n<p>We can&#8217;t see the flowers or leaves on the trees,<br \/>\nwe don&#8217;t hear the birdsong<br \/>\nor buzzing of bees.<br \/>\nThere&#8217;s no lambs a leaping,<br \/>\nthere&#8217;s no fields of clover<br \/>\nis Nature still sleeping?<br \/>\nis Winter not over?<\/p>\n<p>But wait everyone,<br \/>\nbe of good cheer<br \/>\nI&#8217;ve just seen the Sun<\/p>\n<p>SPRING IS HERE.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Dawn Rodgers<\/h5>\n<p><strong>March<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Too early,<br \/>\nbuds push through<br \/>\nwet soil.<\/p>\n<p>Seeing grey skies,<br \/>\nthey bow their heads<br \/>\nin frosty air.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Krish Desscan<\/h5>\n<p><strong>The Season of Prosperity<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The calm stillness of the air at sunrise,<br \/>\nSpring has resurfaced note the sun\u2019s reprise.<br \/>\nThe dew that glazes the awakening grass,<br \/>\nGlistening and enriched by the nurturing forecast.<\/p>\n<p>In the newly laid Aspen tree which was recently bare,<br \/>\nA gilded Goldcrest\u2019s tune chirps through the air.<br \/>\nA fluttering butterfly weaving its way,<br \/>\nInherent within the splendour if for only one day.<\/p>\n<p>A myriad of colours splattered across,<br \/>\nDahlias and orchids and Wall Screw moss.<br \/>\nBlossoming and resurgent the embodiment of hope,<br \/>\nPromise flickering brightly within spring\u2019s flourishing scope.<\/p>\n<p>The subtle beauty of Cherry blossom alluring,<br \/>\nSunglow strands and carnation petals incurring.<br \/>\nThe sweet aroma of Honeysuckle emitted,<br \/>\nThe faded stifled colours of past seasons omitted.<\/p>\n<p>Spring being nature\u2019s way to cicatrize,<br \/>\nWith its subjects rejoicing following winter\u2019s demise.<br \/>\nThe cotton clouds which sail on by,<br \/>\nNow have free wonderment to roam in the sky.<\/p>\n<p>What the equinox started the solstice will end,<br \/>\nInto astringent darkness we will now descend.<br \/>\nBut the blessings that the refulgent season has planted,<br \/>\nIlluminating simplicity, spring leaves us enchanted.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Svetlana Barashko<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Spring<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Every twig is so fresh, it shakes my flesh,<br \/>\nIt sends fragrance to everybody,<br \/>\nSpring yawns and I become a helper to its yawn.<br \/>\nWe mingle all together to be in harmony with God<br \/>\nAnd sky of Weather.<br \/>\nEvery drop of Spring pretends to be a ring,<br \/>\nRinging loud and absolutely proud.<br \/>\nEvery drop of Spring has a twin,<br \/>\nIt is like me and you aspiring at sin.<br \/>\nIt is a core twist transforming every mist.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Ayesha Sahar Mirza, Karachi, Pakistan<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Beautiful Spring!<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The wonderful colour green,<\/p>\n<p>Can now be seen peeping out of the leaves.<\/p>\n<p>The soft twittering of the birds,<\/p>\n<p>Can now be heard.<\/p>\n<p>The vibrant colours of the earth,<\/p>\n<p>Are now meeting the eyes of life on earth.<\/p>\n<p>The shy Sun hiding from the world,<\/p>\n<p>Can now be seen smiling upon the world.<\/p>\n<p>The pleasant voices of children\u2019s play and pleasure,<\/p>\n<p>Give the tense old folk\u2019s some sense of leisure.<\/p>\n<p>The withered old trees,<\/p>\n<p>Can now be seen as well as they can be!<\/p>\n<p>The flowers that the winter had cut,<\/p>\n<p>Are now forming into bloomingly beautiful buds.<\/p>\n<p>As the night approaches,<\/p>\n<p>The young moon in the west recurves, and shining low,<\/p>\n<p>Looking like a slender shaving thrown up from a bar of gold.<\/p>\n<p>Suddenly, the harmonious night air was filled with a sweet melody,<\/p>\n<p>Of a band nearby playing a charming melody.<\/p>\n<p>All singing tunefully a musical phrase:<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Spring is a beautiful creation that God has ever made!\u2019<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Patsy Collins<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Flowering<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>petals opening<br \/>\nbirds and bees sense they&#8217;re welcome<br \/>\nsweet perfume envelops<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Lelia Valois<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Signs of Spring<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The nights get lighter,<br \/>\nThe sun shines brighter,<br \/>\nNew flower&#8217;s greet the day.<br \/>\nThe rabbits come out<br \/>\nAnd run about<br \/>\nChasing Winter away.<\/p>\n<p>And one last thing<br \/>\nThat heralds Spring,<br \/>\nIt is a merry sound.<br \/>\nThat tinkling tune<br \/>\nJust after noon,<br \/>\nAn ice cream van on its round.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Peter Walsh<\/h5>\n<p>Blossom petals on warm breezes,<\/p>\n<p>Birdsong in the trees.<\/p>\n<p>Sunshine sneaking through the clouds<\/p>\n<p>And lambs gambol in lush velvet fields.<\/p>\n<p>Spring jolts our senses from Winter&#8217;s drear&#8230;.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Sally J Blackmore<\/h5>\n<p>Furl and flick of buds sticky with<br \/>\nnewly-risen sap, set to<br \/>\ntwist, twitch, burst &#8211; defying<br \/>\nfrost&#8217;s icy burn.<br \/>\nShrug of cherry blossom, heavy<br \/>\nwith pastel petal or late-snowflake,<br \/>\ninterchangeable,<br \/>\nvernal schizophrenia.<br \/>\nFidget of springald sapling<br \/>\nchastened by capricious wind.<br \/>\nFickle glow of virtue, blushed<br \/>\nby early-season sun, cruelly<br \/>\nsliced by hoar&#8217;s untimely turn.<br \/>\nGrowth undimmed by Spring&#8217;s<br \/>\nfitful whimsy. Giddy senses<br \/>\nat full flame, flirting in the face<br \/>\nof implacable renewal<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>JH Martin<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Spring Snow<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Spring snow<br \/>\nFalls and falls<\/p>\n<p>Burying<br \/>\nGreen shoots alive<\/p>\n<p>Yet<br \/>\nthe tawny owl<\/p>\n<p>Perched upon<br \/>\nA bare oak branch<\/p>\n<p>Neither blinks nor shivers<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Lesley Fletcher<\/h5>\n<p><strong>The Scripter<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The sparkle on the lake has lost its splendour<br \/>\nGnarly hands that held the pen<br \/>\nThrough this writer`s frigid nights<br \/>\nStretch gratefully<br \/>\nAbsorbing, retreating, relieving from arthritic joints<br \/>\nAs sunlight fills again<br \/>\nThe shadows.<\/p>\n<p>Warming words and page and ink alike<br \/>\nPlaying softly into dusk`s hour<br \/>\nThe sun<br \/>\nSpringing life into the struggling<br \/>\nWritings of the scripter.<\/p>\n<p>Filling, feeling, telling the joys<br \/>\nOf tulips, crocus, daffodils<br \/>\nWith nimble<br \/>\nGrateful grace.<\/p>\n<p>It`s spring time in the yard<br \/>\nOnce more<br \/>\nAlors mon dieu, je dit merci!<br \/>\nEncore une fois. Encore.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Peggy Edwards<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Lovely Lady Spring<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Spring I love you, but where are you?<br \/>\nCome sing the song of spring to me<br \/>\nSing to me with steely determination<br \/>\nAnd throw your flowery arms around me.<\/p>\n<p>In your flowing gown of green moss<br \/>\nWearing your crown of irises and tulips<br \/>\nDancing across the land of time<br \/>\nNearer ever do you come.<\/p>\n<p>I am bent under the weight of winter<br \/>\nI need you to put spring in my step.<br \/>\nSing to me with steely determination<br \/>\nAnd throw your flowery arms around me<br \/>\nEverything is born anew.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Gabrielle Prosser<\/h5>\n<p>Early morning excitement<br \/>\nWhen the glorious sun is shy,<br \/>\nSaying goodbye to England<br \/>\nAt the speed of light I fly.<\/p>\n<p>Arriving on foreign soil<br \/>\nI find many people surround me,<br \/>\nBut the sun beats down on my head<br \/>\nAnd my heart is filled with glee.<\/p>\n<p>Minutes and hours move forward gently<br \/>\nDay and days \u2013 they pass me by,<br \/>\nAs I breathe in the floral air<br \/>\nI spot a fragile butterfly.<\/p>\n<p>Reluctantly I return back home<br \/>\nComplete with a heavy heart.<br \/>\nMy mind shuts down and I hear no sounds<br \/>\nAgain I\u2019m waiting for spring to start.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>John Mullett<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Its called&#8230;&#8230;.Hashtag<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>It is typical nowadays to give everything a tag, to invent a new name, a label to brag.<\/p>\n<p>We are told on TOWIE that everything is ream and we all know the expression &#8211; &#8220;living the dream&#8221;.<\/p>\n<p>There&#8217;s a new obsession daily, it&#8217;s on the front of every mag, but they all share one thing incommon &#8211; an expiry tag.<\/p>\n<p>For a tag is a label which we use to define, to identity, describe, it&#8217;s a bit like a sign.<\/p>\n<p>But these tags we use, only tell half of the tale, like the tag on the clothes in a department stores sale.<\/p>\n<p>Until you look close and have a thorough dig through, will you then find what you already knew.<\/p>\n<p>For that tag on those clothes is merely a lie, as the sale is for items you would never dare buy.<\/p>\n<p>So if you ever dreamed of being a WAG, a pin-up on Facebook or even the next hash tag.<\/p>\n<p>Do bear in mind what you are trying to achieve, is simply a tag we all agree does deceive.<\/p>\n<p>For it&#8217;s the tags that exist which we cannot see, those labels undisturbed by greed or vanity.<\/p>\n<p>A thing such as love and its ubiquitous ways, a word which is timeless and not the latest craze.<\/p>\n<p>Love is a tag, attached with invisible string, it will never cut, tear, fade or even singe.<\/p>\n<p>It needs no introduction, no lights to dazzle; it&#8217;s not pretentious or garish unlike a vajazzle.<\/p>\n<p>Love is bold but it is far from brash, love is tag with no timeline, it doesn&#8217;t end with a link or start with a hash.<\/p>\n<p>Its the tag of love that we should cherish in life, like the tag of a friend, a husband, a wife.<\/p>\n<p>But lets start right now and create a new trend, type #Love, now just press send.#<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Zully Bartley, Michigan USA<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Daydreams In Spring<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Spring you came<br \/>\nin a snowy flurry.<\/p>\n<p>Teasing our warm<br \/>\nweather souls.<\/p>\n<p>She dreams of days<br \/>\nthat soon shall be here.<\/p>\n<p>Days of summer<br \/>\nto appear.<\/p>\n<p>Where walks in parks<br \/>\nacross a planked bridge<br \/>\nlisten to her footsteps<br \/>\nacross the rivers pond.<\/p>\n<p>Paddle boats await<br \/>\nfor those to ripple<br \/>\nthe waters along<br \/>\nthe way.<\/p>\n<p>Tall feathered grass<br \/>\nmixed with cattails<br \/>\nsway in the breeze.<\/p>\n<p>Along the grassy way<br \/>\nangel feathers stripped<br \/>\nfrom their wings found.<\/p>\n<p>Where she smiles<br \/>\nat the sun facing<br \/>\ndaffodils seeking<br \/>\nthe gods sweet kiss.<\/p>\n<p>With camera in hand<br \/>\nducks do pose gallantly<br \/>\nspreading their feathers<br \/>\nwith a &#8220;look at me&#8221; way.<\/p>\n<p>In the end a soft swirl<br \/>\nof ice cream cone calls<br \/>\nas the gazebo whispers<br \/>\nsit in here with me for awhile<br \/>\nmy child.<\/p>\n<p>As you gather<br \/>\nyour thoughts<br \/>\nof this day.<\/p>\n<p>Spring time daydreams<br \/>\noh how they flow.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Melissa Finlayson<\/h5>\n<p><strong>When the seasons change\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The warm sun melts away the snow<br \/>\nCreating a place for the flowers to grow<\/p>\n<p>Butterflies are fluttering and birds are soring<br \/>\nThe air around us is much more warm<\/p>\n<p>Colours of the rainbow and the smell of flowers<br \/>\nThis gives this season its power<\/p>\n<p>Decorative eggs, tweeting chicks, hoping bunnies<br \/>\nSo much to see and do with Easter we celebrate<br \/>\nIt\u2019s what we love to do<\/p>\n<p>With spring there is a change<br \/>\nTaking us from the cold into the warm April rain<\/p>\n<p>We celebrate this season with all the festivities and activities<br \/>\nLabour Day and May Day<br \/>\nSpring break and Easter<br \/>\nAnd let\u2019s not forget our spring cleaning, a fresh start for a fresh season<\/p>\n<p>With spring time you don\u2019t need a reason.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Sandra Goodwin<\/h5>\n<p>The beginning of a cycle that is flawless from nature<br \/>\nthe fresh vigour of life that is so copious and real,<br \/>\nmisty hazy dew in the dawn of the early morning<br \/>\nthe drizzling of rain awakening all that is sleeping,<\/p>\n<p>the dislike for the despondence of a melancholy winter,<br \/>\nthe prime element of spring arising from its awakening,<br \/>\nleading up to rich and plentiful growth,<br \/>\nexquisite flowers blossoming and beginning their giving life<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Paulette Robinson<\/h5>\n<p>Welcome back<br \/>\nBuds appear<br \/>\nYellows<br \/>\nPurples<br \/>\nA Popular sight<br \/>\nTrees take shape<br \/>\nBird chorus song<br \/>\nResurrection Time<\/p>\n<p>A time<br \/>\nReflection<br \/>\nThrow away<br \/>\nSo a seed<br \/>\nMake plans<br \/>\nPaint this<br \/>\nFix that<br \/>\nResurrection Time<\/p>\n<p>Easter<br \/>\nNew Life<br \/>\nBirth<br \/>\nBody<br \/>\nCrucified<br \/>\nDeath<br \/>\nResurrection Time<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Caitlyn Marie, Michigan, USA<\/h5>\n<p>Looking out on my deck, I see the sunlight shining bright.<br \/>\nThe snow is melted and grass is here<br \/>\nA bird\u2019s nest has reappeared.<br \/>\nJoyous sounds fill the air<br \/>\nNo more leaves and no more grey<br \/>\nOnly warmth after April and in May.<br \/>\nThe cold finally ended<br \/>\nFireplaces were how we depended.<br \/>\nIt used to be hot coco<br \/>\nNow it\u2019s time to be loco.<br \/>\nPicking flowers, the fresh smell of pollen everywhere.<br \/>\nAll the bees abuzz and bears awaken.<br \/>\nTrees are living and growing, everyone\u2019s shaking<br \/>\nBerries are sprouting, kids are picking<br \/>\nWeddings are being held, bells are chiming<br \/>\nCitizens are rhyming.<br \/>\nOh what inspiration Spring can be.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Bradley Howington<\/h5>\n<p>Winter has gone, and taken with it the snow<br \/>\nspring breathes its life into nature once again<br \/>\nnights are still cold, we\u2019ve yet to see warmth\u2019s weekend<br \/>\nupon this day, we\u2019ll wait for nature to welcome us<br \/>\nmourning winter\u2019s passing with flowers in hand.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Carys Jones<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Approaching Dawn<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>To compliment \u00a9 Aval-Ballan. Painting No.10<\/em><\/p>\n<p>The dark depths,<br \/>\nTired from tossing us like matchsticks,<br \/>\nIs now still,<br \/>\nCold air dances,<br \/>\nWhipping our cheeks like playful hands.<br \/>\nWe wait, and we pray,<br \/>\nFor land.<br \/>\nBones ache with the rot of fatigue,<br \/>\nHands are withered from rope,<br \/>\nThe mist which envelopes us,<br \/>\nHiding the world,<br \/>\nSeems to finally clear,<br \/>\nThrough the denseness,<br \/>\nThe darkness,<br \/>\nSomething rises, something wonderous.<br \/>\nDo we dare trust our eyes?<br \/>\nAhead, as the crow flies, could it really be\u2026<br \/>\n\u2018Land!\u2019 comes the shout from a haggard throat.<br \/>\n\u2018Land!\u2019 the glee is echoed.<br \/>\nThe word we have dreamed of,<br \/>\nThe release we have longed for.<br \/>\nThe mist parts but briefly to reveal before us,<br \/>\nLand and the welcoming approaching dawn.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Julie Boitoult<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Spring Clean<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The wind marches off in a huff,<br \/>\nblown over the hills on a sugar puff,<br \/>\ntinkling chimes as it goes,<br \/>\nthen queues up behind now distant snows.<\/p>\n<p>April the next in line,<br \/>\nwasn&#8217;t ready quite on time.<br \/>\nSo June arrived instead,<br \/>\nbut May casts a clout around her head.<\/p>\n<p>April now showered and fully dressed,<br \/>\npicks up the cobwebs all distressed<br \/>\nand puts them up where they look the best,<br \/>\nas nets on windows they now rest.<\/p>\n<p>She sweeps the mad March Hares away,<br \/>\nwashes the dishes of disarray,<br \/>\nscrubs the corners of all the floors,<br \/>\nreigning through the house, completing chores.<\/p>\n<p>She rhymes and reasons as she goes,<br \/>\ndusting up high on tippy toes,<br \/>\nthinking pleasant thoughts and singing in the rain,<br \/>\nthen all washed out&#8230;she showers again.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Rachel Martin<\/h5>\n<p>Great expectations, managed<br \/>\nAll through winter we sit tight and hug our knees,<br \/>\nBegging for spring to bring leaves to the trees,<br \/>\nBegging for lambs and for no more rain,<br \/>\nAnd begging to see the sun again,<\/p>\n<p>Now your holy shrines, I hate to desecrate,<br \/>\nBut, well the truth is spring isn\u2019t that great,<br \/>\nRain still pours from clouds up high,<br \/>\nAnd I don\u2019t see the sun lighting up the sky,<\/p>\n<p>So on the first of March it\u2019s not going to mark the end,<br \/>\nOf thick duvets and snow, so let\u2019s just pretend,<br \/>\nThat gloves and hats have been fumbled into our cellars,<br \/>\n(Instead of still being constant hallway dwellers.)<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019m not mean I just don\u2019t want you to be upset,<br \/>\nWhen three days of sun, is the best you\u2019re going to get,<br \/>\nBecause spring is good, but not as great as you think trust me,<br \/>\nI mean after a whole year anyone\u2019s memory will be a little rusty<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Jack Carlin<\/h5>\n<p>Spring is the thing that I rarely forget:<\/p>\n<p>Freshly cut grass is often smelt,<br \/>\npretty leaves are often felt,<br \/>\nsinging birds are often heard;<br \/>\nall are left undeterred.<\/p>\n<p>For those reasons, and others too,<br \/>\nI bet spring is the thing that you rarely forget.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Maany Ramanan<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Spring Dream<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Lo! Behold the springtime\u2019s here!<br \/>\nThat knows not sunless dusks;<br \/>\nNo rush says autumn \u2013 dear<br \/>\nMe, the life\u2019s so full of husks.<\/p>\n<p>None is Life but a moated grange,<br \/>\nThou the king and thou the pauper.<br \/>\nFrets arise and awe so strange<br \/>\nO\u2019er reckless times so much steeper.<\/p>\n<p>And though, Life bestows its love<br \/>\nFor all who asketh, friend or foe,<br \/>\nGladness to thee, it shall be;<br \/>\nSuch pure a dream that thee must know\u2026..<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Rosalba Vitolo<\/h5>\n<p><strong>My beloved goddess<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Can&#8217;t you smell the ink into the wind?<\/p>\n<p>Spring, my goddess, is taking a sip from her warm cup.<\/p>\n<p>Every flower dances and seems to write a word on her emerald dress.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Life!&#8221; is the eternal word she writes on every single petal she gives birth to,<\/p>\n<p>that&#8217;s how my beloved spring comes to life for me once again&#8230;<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Lauren Knight<\/h5>\n<p>The ripples of a shimmer,<br \/>\nas sun, glistening, sets<br \/>\nThe night of a dawn<br \/>\nIn summer&#8217;s laze an early yawn<br \/>\nFor winds outstretched,<br \/>\nAnd transgressions born<br \/>\nLeaves flutter uselessly<br \/>\nblanketing the ground<br \/>\nCrackling with a whispering sound<br \/>\nOf glacial stillness, not a soul to be found<br \/>\nThen in the dead of cold&#8217;s transcendence,<br \/>\nFading fast the spell&#8217;s incandescence<br \/>\nwombed tears fall to wash away<br \/>\nthe remnants of the year&#8217;s decay<br \/>\nan awaiting bloom left in its lay.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Paromita Patranobish<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Stranger April<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>After a while, spring doesn&#8217;t touch you,<br \/>\nSunlight is harsh, even through<br \/>\nFrosted panes.<br \/>\nYour eyes are like an<br \/>\nOver exposed film<br \/>\nCraving for the dark,<br \/>\nOr maybe it touches you so much<br \/>\nThat everything blurs<br \/>\nLike a highway seen through<br \/>\nthe windscreen of a speeding car.<br \/>\nYou are so still, so silent, so solitary,<br \/>\nThat the flicker of a moth&#8217;s wing<br \/>\nShatters your reserve,<br \/>\nOr moving so fast, so suddenly,<br \/>\nThat the slow motion<br \/>\nUniverse of mundane living<br \/>\nSeems like a mysterious inhibition.<br \/>\nYou are clothed in<br \/>\nLayers of compulsion,<br \/>\nAn oversized snowman melting<br \/>\nin the April heat.<br \/>\nYou are not supposed to love spring,<br \/>\nOr only love it<br \/>\nIn the language of solecism,<br \/>\nYou think experience<br \/>\nis benumbing, you think<br \/>\nA skin tough like leather<br \/>\nArmours your quivering inside,<br \/>\nBut then you throw your face<br \/>\nAgainst the sun,<br \/>\nAnd you are nothing more<br \/>\nThan a three year old child<br \/>\nWith a skinned knee.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Kylie Jensen<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Shapes in the Clouds<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The only time we lose the magic in life,<br \/>\nIs when we stop searching for it within ourselves.<br \/>\nSquint your eyes to see sparkles in the light,<br \/>\nTake your childhood books down from the shelves.<\/p>\n<p>Lay in the park with a daisy chain in your hair,<br \/>\nTurn the pages and open your imaginations.<br \/>\nKnow that this is a moment and be there,<br \/>\nBe inspired by a stranger\u2019s creations.<\/p>\n<p>When the light fades and the stars come out,<br \/>\nWish on the first and wish for something impossible.<br \/>\nBe so full of hope that there is no room for doubt,<br \/>\nBelieve that not only do fairies exist \u2013 it\u2019s probable.<\/p>\n<p>Lay down on your pillow and dream while you\u2019re still awake,<br \/>\nBe certain of the perfection in the people that you love.<br \/>\nTrust that nobody will ever break a promise that they make,<br \/>\nAnd tomorrow, look for shapes in the clouds that are above.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Maryam Chaudhri<\/h5>\n<p>Vivacious spring, what a beautiful thing!<br \/>\nBut the essence of nostalgia still haunts me<br \/>\nAs the ever present white blanket of snow covers the streets<br \/>\nI feel so oppressed because I cannot go on a shopping spree!<\/p>\n<p>Grass is swiftly encrusted with sharp,pristine icicles whilst I&#8217;m indoors<br \/>\nSwept by my warm, thermal sheets<br \/>\nUnaware of what remains on the ground floors<br \/>\nStill in denial , that spring and I will meet<\/p>\n<p>Dominant winter sets the scene<br \/>\nThe thought of spring keeps me keen<br \/>\nDays later my wishes are granted<br \/>\nSpring has never been so enchanted<\/p>\n<p>Vivid signs are abundantly clear<br \/>\nSpring,spring, spring is here!<br \/>\nReviving my sense of smell from the dead<br \/>\nMy eyes are blinded by the nature forming next to the shed<\/p>\n<p>Spring,spring,spring is here.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Mark Airlie<\/h5>\n<p>winter yawns and covers her cold mouth with her pale, milk skin, white hand.<br \/>\nthe bright auburn \/ yellow warm light of spring illuminates my faded rustic curtains.<br \/>\ni address the day with much hope and excitement as i get out of bed<br \/>\nand open my window, breathing in a new freshness, as i gaze happily<br \/>\nat the pink and white blossomed trees and emerald green shrubs.<br \/>\norange and purple wildflowers dot the mildew &#8211; speckled shining new grass.<\/p>\n<p>new feelings, emotions, baby animals and new beginnings are everywhere.<br \/>\nbumble bees skate awkwardly over flower tops like little fat stripey zeppelins.<br \/>\nmonarch butterflys with red and black sails dance gracefully amid the swan plants like<br \/>\nfloating ballerina&#8217;s.<br \/>\nwinter&#8217;s mountains are reduced to molehills! as a cheerful benediction like a meditation<br \/>\nengulfs my mind &#8230;.. Soft As Syrup.<\/p>\n<p>i walk through the electric, colourful park and see lines of ducklings following their mother<br \/>\nin single file,on the lakes diamond sunlit wavey water&#8217;s surface.<br \/>\nyoung lovers holding hands, smile as they walk passed me, their eye&#8217;s glazed with romance, while others embrace on park benches whispering and laughing now and then.<\/p>\n<p>as i walk my mind wanders to the eternal, still, secret place where i feel the creator,<br \/>\nthe loving force of the universe telling me to enjoy my intuition, my heartfulness, and joy,<br \/>\nas the warm golden sunlight cascades through the tall , statued old pine trees.<\/p>\n<p>.<br \/>\nI sit in the tall yellow heather grass,<br \/>\naround me children joyfully run and play shouting and squealing happily,<br \/>\nchasing eachother, and radiating utopia and energy.<\/p>\n<p>I smile again on this perfect, enchanting spring day full of heavenly light.<br \/>\ni stand up , dust my self off , swing my jersey around my shoulders<br \/>\nand walk the long track back home&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Chloe Selmes<\/h5>\n<p>Spring at the moment is hard to tell,<br \/>\nWhether your camping away or in a hotel,<br \/>\nThe reason for this horrible pain,<br \/>\nIs that this spring is nothing at all but simply rain.<\/p>\n<p>The parks are drenched from head to toe,<br \/>\nSo this spring is really a low,<br \/>\nThe way people sit at home,<br \/>\nBored and cold and still as a stone,<br \/>\nSo basically what I&#8217;m trying to say,<br \/>\nIs please rain just go away!<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m bored stiff waiting for the post,<br \/>\nAll my family just have to boast,<br \/>\nBoasting about the big buff pillows,<br \/>\nWhilst there singing with the armadillos,<br \/>\nAnother country isn&#8217;t that great,<br \/>\nIn fact I don&#8217;t give them a rate,<br \/>\nPerhaps there warm, fun and up to date,<br \/>\nBut at any point can come an earthquake!<\/p>\n<p>You can&#8217;t be sure that spring is here,<br \/>\nNot when your a man in a pub full of beer,<br \/>\nStaying inside is a real old bore,<br \/>\nNothing to do especially when your poor,<br \/>\nSo going outside is just as bad,<br \/>\nSo i suppose I could say I&#8217;m pretty much glad.<\/p>\n<p>I don&#8217;t show off about my new sofa,<br \/>\nBut if you want to know come a bit closer,<br \/>\nSometimes a smile is all you need,<br \/>\nEverybody needs it, is that agreed?<\/p>\n<p>So now go outside but mind the mud,<br \/>\nGet stuck in it and I&#8217;ll give you a tug.<br \/>\nI get the post and all I see,<br \/>\nIs &#8220;oh there&#8217;s so much sun, oh look at me!&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>James Boyes<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Spring Is Perfect<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>How many petals must spiral from my Anemone<br \/>\nbefore I realise this love is unfading,<br \/>\nMy twirling cane is perpetual, for your touch<br \/>\nis eventual &#8211; warm shivers of the body pervading.<br \/>\nMeanwhile Mizpah cradles us, cradles lust<br \/>\nand cradles love. Both ubiquitous.<br \/>\nThus never worry for it plagues the heart<br \/>\nwith blackness merely a figment,<br \/>\nAn apprehension of drowning in the future,<br \/>\nBut the powerful current is not malignant.<br \/>\nI embrace love now and the Phoenix will fly again<br \/>\nthrough raging blazes, ages transpire.<\/p>\n<p>We respire. Live.<br \/>\nBetween the polar transients of beginning and end,<br \/>\nIn which a kiss falls upon the lips<br \/>\nlike a single stone obdurate to pressure,<br \/>\nRolling untainted.<br \/>\nThrough Eden ascend, Heaven &#8211; you are sainted.<br \/>\nCrown my heart in its victory<br \/>\nfor you are complex, yet simply beauteous.<br \/>\nA deluge of gratitude will never be enough,<br \/>\nfor in my life, you eclipsed everything insidious<br \/>\nwith promise.<\/p>\n<p>I am not perfect, but strive to be<br \/>\nso when perfection stands before me, I see.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Iolanda Foschetti, Italy<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Chasing Spring<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>It comes lush and vibrant and overwhelming.<br \/>\nIt isn\u2019t meek and mild like the lambs in the fields.<br \/>\nThis is wild.<br \/>\nAnd violent.<br \/>\nIt has no time to wait,<br \/>\nIt has rested long enough;<br \/>\nhidden, silent, poised.<br \/>\nNow, as if possessed, it pushes and shoves and explodes.<br \/>\nIts power is frightening,<br \/>\nIts life-filled fullness scary.<\/p>\n<p>Relentlessly Spring comes.<br \/>\nOnce such a joy.<br \/>\nBut now, in these, my Autumn come Winter years,<br \/>\nAll is slower, energy wanes,<br \/>\nNo longer can it keep up with cutting such rushing grass and clearing such wanton weeds.<br \/>\nSpring is a recurring miracle,<br \/>\nand a warning,<br \/>\nOf time passing,<br \/>\nAnd of things to come.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Vishaka Venkat<\/h5>\n<p><strong>A Season of Thaw<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Pixies and fairies glittering came,<br \/>\nMushy musings and zephyr they gave.<br \/>\nHere arrives another spring,<br \/>\nrousing the fields and rivers to the brim.<\/p>\n<p>The kernels of infatuation once again radiating,<br \/>\nLovebirds, doves and sylvan creatures are wooing.<\/p>\n<p>Sorrows and sadness faded away,<br \/>\nPromises of hope on the way.<br \/>\nRustling and rumbling leaves and boughs!<br \/>\nIn tune the nature, enraptured in a whiff.<\/p>\n<p>Nibbling the dormant sea, mountains and barren land,<br \/>\nGushing breeze here by passes.<\/p>\n<p>Tinkling them to lives,<br \/>\nBouncing on the buds,<br \/>\nDodging the dried leaves,<br \/>\nThe whole eco is wrapped in romance.<\/p>\n<p>Forests are strewn in melodies.<br \/>\nCacophony of the giggles here reverberates.<\/p>\n<p>Sun in the sky bright and fine.<br \/>\nDew drops evaporated with a shine.<br \/>\nGreen grass, pink flowers make us smile<br \/>\nHere comes another spring in my life.<\/p>\n<p>Bitter memories of the past vanishes,<br \/>\nBetter toast of life here awaits.<\/p>\n<p>Happy days and joyful nights<br \/>\nIf ever my life could be filled with springs!<br \/>\nFresh and aromatic my journey seasoned.<br \/>\nNever once will I be bored.<\/p>\n<p>This spring, the ring of rejuvenation and energy,<br \/>\nfilled my bosom with spirit and synergy.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Stacey McPhail<\/h5>\n<p>&#8216;It starts with Demeter\u2019s, joyful rhyming song<br \/>\nGone is winters blaze that felt eternally strong<br \/>\nAs Persephone once more dances on earth<br \/>\nHer Mother sows fertile seeds, her Godly worth<\/p>\n<p>They are such familiar strangers, these lovely stems!<br \/>\nA palette of colour, lovelier than Olympus\u2019 gems<br \/>\nThe gold daffodil is neighboured by the lustful rose<br \/>\nWhile the wildflower dances in brightly made clothes<\/p>\n<p>As mortals walk through these ever changing glades<br \/>\nThe Gods feel the envy that immorality pervades<br \/>\nTo mark rhyming beauty in these flowering seasons<br \/>\nContains moments of eternity for mortals reasons&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Laavanya Sankaranarayanan<\/h5>\n<p><strong>spring wishes for my child<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>With sunkissed hair<br \/>\nmy winter child<br \/>\nyou run across the blooming fields;<br \/>\ni am always by your side.<\/p>\n<p>i may be but a shadow<br \/>\non the stalks of wheat<br \/>\nor that whiff of shimmery air<br \/>\ncarrying a smell so sweet.<\/p>\n<p>Let the dew-encrusted grass<br \/>\nfill your eyes with laughter&#8217;s spark<br \/>\nas if my little princess were<br \/>\nsitting next to me at the park.<\/p>\n<p>there&#8217;s the warmth of that gentle sun &#8211;<br \/>\nsoak it in as if it were my embrace<br \/>\nfor all I can offer &#8211; past memories<br \/>\nand photographs of my face.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Be strong, little one&#8221;<br \/>\ni yearn to call out and<br \/>\nto teach you to climb the tree<br \/>\nLet your spirit fly about.<\/p>\n<p>Feel the wind through your hair,<br \/>\nlisten to the songbirds while<br \/>\nyou search for the letters<br \/>\nwhich contain your papa&#8217;s words.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Sophie Hammond<\/h5>\n<p><strong>The Oncoming Spring <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The darkness has lingered this year,<br \/>\nIn the bitter mornings and the lonely nights,<br \/>\nThe cold is a blanket upon the land,<br \/>\nAnd not even the Spring can save us.<\/p>\n<p>Snow has poured from the heavens, great swathes of pure white,<br \/>\nHave cleansed the earth, for a time,<br \/>\nBefore grey returned in the hurrying footsteps,<br \/>\nAnd the world was grim once more.<\/p>\n<p>There is joy in the first daffodil,<br \/>\nIn bluebells and blue tits and bees,<br \/>\nBut the wind has not been tamed and she gives a shrill cry,<br \/>\nas she soars through narrow valleys.<\/p>\n<p>At last, blue skies! And the holiday of rebirth brings hope of reprieve,<br \/>\nOf heat and of the sea,<br \/>\nAnd we believe, for a time,<br \/>\nThat the darkness doesn&#8217;t linger, And the sun will never leave.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Steve Linturn<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Spring<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I wandered ancient cobbled streets<br \/>\nJust after dawn\u2019s first light<br \/>\nBreathed in so deep the Hampshire air<br \/>\nThen felt my heart take flight<\/p>\n<p>My spirit soared &#8211; winter\u2019s grasp was gone<br \/>\nLand free from nature\u2019s prowling beast<br \/>\nIts tight clenched fist was now undone &#8211;<br \/>\nThe icy touch of frost had ceased<\/p>\n<p>The generous hand of spring had come<br \/>\nPalm open, willing now to give<br \/>\nI watched cold back of winter, glum<br \/>\nRetreating as I saw life live<\/p>\n<p>The crocus, once recumbent<br \/>\nNow poked up its golden head<br \/>\nWhile all around, nature I found,<br \/>\nWas waking from sleepy bed<\/p>\n<p>The primroses in freshening breeze<br \/>\nWelcomed me by them &#8211; one by one<br \/>\nI strolled past fields of new-born lambs<br \/>\nSaw some take first steps, others run<\/p>\n<p>Walking through rural English scene<br \/>\nI savoured all and was entranced<br \/>\nFresh spring-time hazel stood, serene<br \/>\nIts catkin lamb\u2019s tails waved and danced<\/p>\n<p>I ambled under beech and birch<br \/>\nAnd English oak as well<br \/>\nAnticipating growth to come<br \/>\nOf buds, still yet to swell<\/p>\n<p>The jostling crowds of daffodils<br \/>\nAll seemed to call to me<br \/>\n\u201cLook we\u2019re here! Look we\u2019re here!\u201d<br \/>\nA noisy yellow symphony<\/p>\n<p>Spiked stinging nettles teased nearby<br \/>\n\u201cCome close\u2026 and feel our bite!\u201d<br \/>\nAs dock leaves, gently by their side<br \/>\nOffered such sweet respite<\/p>\n<p>So on I walked, and took the lead<br \/>\nThat morn when all were still a-bed<br \/>\nI stood and gazed at dew\u2019s fine jewels<br \/>\nEntrapped on spider\u2019s silken thread<\/p>\n<p>As sun\u2019s now warming rays shot forth<br \/>\nTo light the hills on high<br \/>\nI heard morning birds rehearsing<br \/>\nFor their chorus in the sky<\/p>\n<p>And many a hazy country lawn<br \/>\nBecame a concert hall<br \/>\nFor joyous melodies of blackbird,<br \/>\nRobin, starling, thrush and all<\/p>\n<p>A virtuoso orchestra<br \/>\nPlayed then, slowly, in my mind<br \/>\nAs all the notes of nature<br \/>\nWere so gloriously combined<\/p>\n<p>Then\u2026 echoing from far off tree<br \/>\nI heard my favourite sound!<br \/>\nA cuckoo proudly proclaimed \u201cspring!\u201d<br \/>\nRebirth was all around!<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Mary<\/h5>\n<p>When winter&#8217;s iron-strong arms release their hold,<br \/>\nIce crystals shatter, melt; the frozen earth relents.<br \/>\nThe queen stretches her creaky limbs,<br \/>\nDrops robes of white, in loose and lazy splashes, on the sun-warmed ground;<br \/>\nPulls on tender golden-green silks, stretching to the sky;<br \/>\nDisplaying her spring finery: one hundred thousand jewels,<br \/>\nPale emeralds that rattle in the warming breezes.<br \/>\nBeneath her, sleeping buds awaken, push their tender snouts straight up,<br \/>\nProudly, through thawing soil.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Janette Ayachi<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Secret Garden in Spring<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>You take us to your childhood house<br \/>\nits tombstone-marble floors<br \/>\nloose cables knotted in the dark<br \/>\nlike pits of rattled-snakes<br \/>\nwhere upturned cockroaches<br \/>\ncollapse under the scent of mould<br \/>\nand stray cats circle the fences<br \/>\nas if they are guarding something valuable.<\/p>\n<p>I escape through a dusty shutter<br \/>\ntake to the garden with our girls<br \/>\nwhere we collect five different shades<br \/>\nof rose petals in wonder, our hands<br \/>\ncupped with colour, velvet and perfume.<br \/>\nThe watery sounds of pigeons distracts us,<br \/>\na family flock cooing in the gutter,<br \/>\nand Lyra pricks her finger on a thorn<br \/>\na perfect speck-circle of blood<br \/>\nswells in the reverent morning sun<br \/>\nlike an oncoming train in the distance,<br \/>\nshe squints her eye to magnify the damage<br \/>\nscope the broken bushes and dead birds<br \/>\nembedded in the margins<br \/>\nof an abandoned, irretrievable past.<\/p>\n<p>Inside you greet holographs of your parents,<br \/>\nyourself as a young boy<br \/>\ncalling out to your friend across a window,<br \/>\npraying at the foot of your bed.<br \/>\nYour fingers twitch for a sign,<br \/>\nor signal, something to show you<br \/>\nwhat to do after your father\u2019s funeral,<br \/>\nsome kind of answer for his death.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Chloe Appleford<\/h5>\n<p><strong>The Brave Flower<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I sit here in silence<br \/>\nI sit here and wait<br \/>\nI sit here and ponder<br \/>\non my fate<br \/>\nThe flowers surround me<br \/>\nThe flowers so proud<br \/>\nThe flowers that outshine me<br \/>\nin the crowd<\/p>\n<p>A little girl walks by,<br \/>\nentranced by the flowers<br \/>\nshe bends down to pick one<br \/>\nthey all part and cower<br \/>\nexcept for me<br \/>\nbrave and alone<br \/>\nshe picks me up<br \/>\nand takes me home<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m loved by her family now<br \/>\nand its all thanks to spring<br \/>\nthe time for second chances<br \/>\nand new beginnings<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Rita Cummings<\/h5>\n<p>Should I be wearing<br \/>\nYellow and red?<br \/>\n(red raspberries and yellow in the buttercup)<\/p>\n<p>Not yet, not yet,<br \/>\nWhen there is no spring in me<br \/>\nAnd I am still caught<br \/>\nin the lineaments of time<br \/>\nSurrounded by a geometry of place<br \/>\nPallid in the veins.<\/p>\n<p>Instead,<br \/>\n(with bellyful)<br \/>\nFingers stained with juice<br \/>\nand pollen on my lips,<br \/>\nI&#8217;ll watch these sunsucked cowslips<br \/>\nTurn to seed<br \/>\nAnd linger by the vine<br \/>\nTil the berries have been picked.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Andrew McCallum<\/h5>\n<p><strong>yesterday and today<br \/>\nspring begins again\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>off the antlered tips of yearling trees<\/p>\n<p>the air tells you<\/p>\n<p>yes<\/p>\n<p>it is possible<\/p>\n<p>it can happen<\/p>\n<p>there is a chance<\/p>\n<p>you stand in showers of cherry blossom<br \/>\nand know all of your longings<\/p>\n<p>your hands reach up<\/p>\n<p>seize pieces of the sky<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Helena Nelson<\/h5>\n<p><strong>FALSE SPRING<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>It\u2019s a risk with anything new.<br \/>\nEach garden is eager to know<br \/>\ngreenness: its flicker, then fade<\/p>\n<p>as driving battalions of snow<br \/>\nassault both bud and blade\u2014<br \/>\nbut spring (believe it) is true.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Louise Warren<\/h5>\n<p><strong>A Celebration in Music<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>On their backs in the crackling frost, hatless,<br \/>\na chorus of pensioners listening for the first thrust<br \/>\nof early rhubarb.<br \/>\nA low fat moon glimmers weakly overhead,<br \/>\nfuzzy from the incoming wash of light pollution.<br \/>\nIlluminated dimly, an elderly man<br \/>\nclasped to an ancient apple tree, waiting for those<br \/>\ntender little gas jets to spurt into life.<br \/>\nHe reaches up into the veins of the branches,<br \/>\nhumming along to Lord Lamborne, Tom Putt,Lady Sudely.<br \/>\nWhile his wife buries her head in a clump<br \/>\nof unripe primroses.<br \/>\nCoaxing a breathless thread of a song from<br \/>\nthose pinkly frozen stems.<\/p>\n<p>All together now,<br \/>\nas one clear voice.<br \/>\nSpring is upon us,<br \/>\nlet us rejoice!<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Mavis Gulliver<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Primroses<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>A week ago<br \/>\nthe woodland floor was brown.<br \/>\nNow days of sun<br \/>\nand showers of gentle rain<br \/>\nhave brought on<br \/>\nsuch a spurt of rapid growth<br \/>\nthat not just leaves,<br \/>\nbut buds and full blown flowers<br \/>\nstand proud<br \/>\nabove the fallen leaves and grass.<br \/>\nEach yellow flower<br \/>\nwith deeper yellow throat<br \/>\nreleases poignant perfume<br \/>\nto the air,<br \/>\nto stir the senses<br \/>\nwith the scent of Spring.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Shira, South Africa<\/h5>\n<p><strong>*Spring&#8217;s Love*<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>My path is paved<br \/>\nWith a blanket of thorns<br \/>\nThe trees howl with vengeful wrath<br \/>\nLeaves are left broken and torn<br \/>\nRoses kidnapped by pink spurge&#8217;s<br \/>\nAnd darkness flourishes<\/p>\n<p>But every morning our roads cross<br \/>\nSpring awakens from its slumber<br \/>\nThe brown fields shed its dryness<br \/>\nThe light dazzling on fresh water<br \/>\nFearless &#8211;<br \/>\nLuscious leaves shelter<br \/>\nThe sweetest fruit in celebration<br \/>\nSprings tranquility liberated<br \/>\nAnd all suffering forgotten<\/p>\n<p>But as his silhouette fades<br \/>\nInto the distance<br \/>\nIt all returns to true form<br \/>\nOf infinite winter nothingness<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Maureen Parr<\/h5>\n<p>What is it?<\/p>\n<p>Is it the smell of the newly mown lawn,<br \/>\nor maybe the sight of lambs just born?<\/p>\n<p>What is it?<\/p>\n<p>Is it the daffodil nodding its head,<br \/>\na carpet of yellow where ever we tread?<\/p>\n<p>What is it?<\/p>\n<p>Days when the sun is beginning to show.<br \/>\nLight that casts shadows on the earth below.<\/p>\n<p>What is it?<\/p>\n<p>We know what it is.<br \/>\nIt&#8217;s the season of Spring.<br \/>\nGiving life and joy<br \/>\nto every new thing.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Perri Carter<\/h5>\n<p>Springtime freezing,<br \/>\nNever stop believing,<br \/>\nWatching your mum<br \/>\nspring cleaning,<\/p>\n<p>Turn up the heating,<br \/>\nGet the music beating,<br \/>\nIt&#8217;s spring time so let&#8217;s cheer up<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Paul de Aragon<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Varela<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Autonomy In Four Colours<br \/>\nFor A Moments Attention<br \/>\nA White Veil<br \/>\nAn Infinite Sequence Of Terms<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Cheryle Linturn<\/h5>\n<p><strong>For Too Long<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Silence in the wind,<br \/>\nfor too long, until now,<br \/>\nyellow orb slowly awakens<br \/>\nunder vagabond clouds<br \/>\nof pinks and purples,<br \/>\nyawning trees, in no hurry<br \/>\nto explode with expressions<br \/>\nof life, like yoga, they breathe<br \/>\ninhaling each succulent whisper,<br \/>\nto capture all beauty inside-<br \/>\nindividual buds, as the concert<br \/>\nincreases in tempo, earth drums<br \/>\nin steady beat of daffodils loud trumpet,<br \/>\nso crystal clear, as a water splash,<br \/>\nthe gentle bells of lily-of-the-valley,<br \/>\nadd evince,<br \/>\nharmonious lyric upon the breeze,<br \/>\nsongbirds ignite the spirit,<br \/>\nalive is the breath upon my heart,<br \/>\nthis voice, forever, inside my mind,<br \/>\nits painting transcends my vision,<br \/>\nI stand inside the rains of a<br \/>\nheavenly talent called Springtime<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Caroline Minnis Carrier<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Spring fling !<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The knarled hand of winter holds us still,<br \/>\nwithin the grip of it&#8217;s wild winds,<br \/>\nwe advance, bent under the frozen crystals dropped upon our bowed heads.<br \/>\nAdvancing towards home,<br \/>\ndreams of log fires, hot chocolate, melting butter on crispy toast&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;.<br \/>\nSTOP !<\/p>\n<p>Why welcome in spring with wobbly body parts ?<br \/>\nPoor sunbeams bouncing in to find ungrateful hearts.<br \/>\nLet us hold back on cakes, biscuits and tarts,<br \/>\n(easy rhyme I must confess, poor offering to the arts)<\/p>\n<p>This morning explosions of colour,<br \/>\nblue sky, cumulus float in the airs,<br \/>\nwarmth envelopping me like a long lost lover,<br \/>\nthe wild strawberries flowering, promise of fruit<br \/>\nNO !<\/p>\n<p>Welcoming spring,<br \/>\nis absolutely nothing,<br \/>\nto do with eating,<br \/>\ndesire for feeling,<br \/>\nreeling,<br \/>\nfalling,<br \/>\ninto the wild and wonderful green grass,<br \/>\nrolling,<br \/>\nrunning,<br \/>\nholding on to the essence&#8230;..<br \/>\nIs it ?<\/p>\n<p>HELLO SUNSHINE !<br \/>\nShe cries,<br \/>\nknowing already what awaits&#8230;..<br \/>\nwild fruit, wild mushrooms, and your warm caress.<br \/>\nYES !<br \/>\nfeeling, eating, reeling, rolling and falling&#8230;&#8230;<br \/>\ninto the arms of the essence of spring.<br \/>\nYES, YES !<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Don Filliston<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Blue Tits &#8211; Spring is Sprung.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Come the parents, hurrying,<br \/>\nBack and forth a\u2019scurrying,<br \/>\nConstantly a\u2019worrying,<br \/>\nFor their brood.<br \/>\nEight nestlings there, awaiting;<br \/>\nTheir hunger not abating,<br \/>\nAll little beaks agaping.<br \/>\nFood \u2013 food \u2013 food.<br \/>\nFly hundreds of trips a day;<br \/>\nAvoid raptors and the Jay,<br \/>\nWho will try to steal away<br \/>\nAnd nests intrude.<\/p>\n<p>Lots of pollen, nectar, sap.<br \/>\nInsects, spiders, all on tap.<br \/>\nMany seeds to fill the gap;<br \/>\nEfforts renewed.<br \/>\nTakes two or three weeks to fledge.<br \/>\nWeasels, squirrels, on the ledge.<br \/>\nParents watchful, all on edge.<br \/>\nNo interlude.<br \/>\nUpside down, on twigs they\u2019ll cling,<br \/>\nJoin flashing flocks, on the wing<br \/>\nAnd through the year, call and sing.<br \/>\nCheeky brood.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Natalie Leadbeater<\/h5>\n<p><strong>The Fall of Winter<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Eyes of burnt gold,<br \/>\nEyes of Fire.<br \/>\nEyes that pierce the cold,<br \/>\nEyes of desire.<\/p>\n<p>The heart that was stilled with ice<br \/>\nShall awaken with flame.<br \/>\nThe soul that was imprisoned by sorrow<br \/>\nShall be freed from shame.<\/p>\n<p>Light is rekindled,<br \/>\nDarkness banished.<br \/>\nThe world has changed,<br \/>\nThe shrouded veil vanished.<\/p>\n<p>The Earth is silver, the water glass.<br \/>\nThe shadows have fallen. Their time has past.<br \/>\nA figure alone stands atop the mountain.<br \/>\nReflection of splendour in the glimmering fountain.<\/p>\n<p>With staff aloft,<br \/>\nHe stirs natures slumber.<br \/>\nHis touch silken soft,<br \/>\nThough his voice rolls like thunder.<\/p>\n<p>The wind carried the whisperings of the leaves.<br \/>\nThe pale folded flowers opened in the breeze.<br \/>\nA nightingale\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s voice flitters through the trees.<br \/>\nA song of remembrance,<br \/>\nThe fallen to grieve.<\/p>\n<p>The silver shall melt,<br \/>\nThe glass shall splinter.<br \/>\nOnly in springs glistening eyes,<br \/>\nAre the memories of Winter.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Sayantika Biswas<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Spring in the forest<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Through the entwined canopy,<\/p>\n<p>Filtered in the rays<\/p>\n<p>Bearing the message of spring<\/p>\n<p>Ending the dreary days<\/p>\n<p>Till finally the snow,<\/p>\n<p>It melted by,<\/p>\n<p>Slowly and stealthily,<\/p>\n<p>A gradual goodbye<\/p>\n<p>Spring bloomed out<\/p>\n<p>Suddenly ever so,<\/p>\n<p>Unveiling the beauty underneath the snow<\/p>\n<p>The squirrels peered out,<\/p>\n<p>Sleepy in their wake,<\/p>\n<p>Out came the goose,<\/p>\n<p>And out came the drake<\/p>\n<p>The trees their arms opened wide<\/p>\n<p>Spring upon every bird did betide<\/p>\n<p>As silently by the river,<\/p>\n<p>Grew the first ever clover<\/p>\n<p>Dew shining on its leaves<\/p>\n<p>In hearts beat the harmony<\/p>\n<p>That spring always brings.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Spencer Garry<\/h5>\n<p><strong>The Silver Trees<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Have you seen the silver trees<br \/>\nframed with golden yellow flowers<br \/>\nthat grow at the bottom of campus?<br \/>\nSometimes I hear their whisper<br \/>\ndeep below my mind,<br \/>\nand I know that love truly is possible.<br \/>\nOnce a rainbow danced above them,<br \/>\nholding them within its arms<br \/>\nand never more could I<br \/>\ndoubt the wonder of God<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>David-John Tyrer<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Spring Haiku<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Spring day dawning bright<br \/>\nDaffodils nodding sagely<br \/>\nNew life follows snow<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Alison Goffin<\/h5>\n<p><strong>The Hares<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Out of the mist and brittle breeze, they come<br \/>\nAnd dance across the frosted furrows.<br \/>\nElation synchronised.<\/p>\n<p>Their joy is momentarily mine as<br \/>\nWe bound across the cracking ground.<\/p>\n<p>Another stops before me on the path,<br \/>\nAn open invitation in his stance.<br \/>\nA backward glance, he looks into the wind<br \/>\nThen watches as I wait to fall to earth.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Hilary Menos<\/h5>\n<p>Long and dark the winter,<br \/>\nlong and dark and cold,<br \/>\nselfishness and sorrow<br \/>\nendemic in the world.<\/p>\n<p>Every mother&#8217;s daughter<br \/>\nand every mother&#8217;s son<br \/>\ncreeps in this petty pace<br \/>\nwith faces dour and drawn.<\/p>\n<p>At last a warmer breeze<br \/>\nplays gentle on the hours<br \/>\nbringing bees and swallows<br \/>\nand an opening of doors.<\/p>\n<p>And now she comes walking<br \/>\nacross the greening fields,<br \/>\nred clover in her footprints<br \/>\nand daisies in her curls.<\/p>\n<p>She gladdens every heart,<br \/>\nmakes every sourpuss smile.<br \/>\nSpring brings hope eternal,<br \/>\nand in her arms, a child.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Sian Davies<\/h5>\n<p><strong>SPRING,PLEASE<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Please plant these<br \/>\nTo feed the bees!<br \/>\nSnapdragons, daffodils, and pansies.<br \/>\nPlease donate some lemonade<br \/>\nTo the town May Day Parade.<br \/>\nPlease don&#8217;t feed that to the lambs<br \/>\n(They&#8217;ll eat the germs up off your hands!)<br \/>\nPlease bet on a Grand National runner<br \/>\nTo finance a new wardrobe before the summer.<br \/>\nPlease, remember to stay off the grass<br \/>\nBefore you all come to picnic en masse<br \/>\nEnjoy your extra hour of spring time sun<br \/>\nAnd please, we encourage you to have some fun!<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Nirmala Pillai<\/h5>\n<p>Spring , spring up in joy,<br \/>\nBursting thru&#8217; the cold days.<br \/>\nShooting up tiny green tongues,<br \/>\nBreaking stones and hard hearts.<br \/>\nto nurture the dead and dying spirits.<\/p>\n<p>Ring, ring in the human senses<br \/>\nNew births, birdsongs and berries,<br \/>\nArias of desires, acres of happiness;<br \/>\nMost awaited symphony of the seasons.<\/p>\n<p>Spring, let the creative juices flow,<br \/>\nwith songs, dances, words and colours.<br \/>\nInk them ,contour them, play them ,<br \/>\nCelebrate every moment of evanescence.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Oliver Juggins<\/h5>\n<p><strong>A New World<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>A new world bursts to life from all around us,<br \/>\nA world of celebration, warmth and joy.<br \/>\nA world with diamond sparkles in the water,<\/p>\n<p>Where topaz blue and white wisps share the sky.<br \/>\nA world of sunshine so intense and dazzling,<br \/>\nThat as it warms the backs of creatures sat below,<br \/>\nThey sit around and contemplate its beauty,<br \/>\nA beauty that they thought they&#8217;d never know.<br \/>\nA paradise with birds with stunning plumage,<br \/>\nThat soar and swoop and play so very free.<br \/>\nA world that&#8217;s bright and wonderful and perfect,<br \/>\nAs spring compels the winter months to flee.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Jean-Michel Hatton<\/h5>\n<p><strong>one thousand years<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>This time around<br \/>\nI&#8217;ll wait<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;ll wait<\/p>\n<p>for you.<\/p>\n<p>I wait, despite the Hour<br \/>\nuntiring, for you to plant your<\/p>\n<p>eyes on me,<br \/>\nclaim my neck<br \/>\nas your territory,<\/p>\n<p>unchartered, perhaps a wreck&#8230;<br \/>\n(yet not for long) then<\/p>\n<p>the poison or the pain<br \/>\npast will be drawn when<br \/>\nyou come, when you catch<\/p>\n<p>that shiver I suddenly wore.<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;ll keep my watch<br \/>\nfor one thousand years or<br \/>\nI think but a little more.<\/p>\n<p>Wait,<\/p>\n<p>I will wait &#8217;til you appear<br \/>\nby air or sea or land, -hear!<\/p>\n<p>until you capture<br \/>\nmy shadow and wear<br \/>\nit on your skin, so bare.<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;ll be twenty eight<br \/>\nfor a thousand and a year<\/p>\n<p>but I&#8217;ll wait<br \/>\n&#8217;til you draw near.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Andrew Jessop<\/h5>\n<p><strong>&#8216;The Field&#8217;<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>With daisies and wasps<br \/>\nAnd weeping willows too<br \/>\nTaking to the spring field<br \/>\nI dance amongst the sun<\/p>\n<p>With a pen at hand I write<br \/>\nWords filled with music<br \/>\nAnd music filled with words<br \/>\nConnecting through my ears<\/p>\n<p>I sit in the grass and enjoy<br \/>\nWhat so many are denied<br \/>\nIn the open air<br \/>\nIn the air<br \/>\nOpen.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>John Gerard<\/h5>\n<p><strong>SPRING<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>A child let go a balloon that spring,<br \/>\na little girl who cried and blamed the sky,<br \/>\nthe sky, the place of heaven to her,<br \/>\nbut where her balloon had died.<\/p>\n<p>Her mother pointed to the grass,<br \/>\nthe violets sparkling along<br \/>\nthe bluestone path, the swans courting<br \/>\neach other in the frog pond,<\/p>\n<p>and said, It\u2019s spring, it\u2019s time<br \/>\nto look around,<br \/>\nand she lifted her daughter<br \/>\nhigh, with the abounding<\/p>\n<p>joy of holding on, and the postponed<br \/>\npain of one day saying good-bye.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Eliza Keating<\/h5>\n<p>A rainbow of spring<br \/>\nCome gaze apon her Iris bow<br \/>\nSpring&#8217;s vibrant colours all on show.<br \/>\nFrom crimson reds that arch so wide<br \/>\nReflect the spring,that&#8217;s held inside<br \/>\nA blush of orange, beams so fine<br \/>\nAllows her yellow pride to shine.<br \/>\nThen etches greens that will cascade.<br \/>\nTo fall on blues of every shade,<br \/>\nsoon blend and mix to indogo<br \/>\nCaress her violets warm light glow.<br \/>\nNo greater sight can reach the eye.<br \/>\nOur spring, embracing rainbowed sky<\/p>\n<p>then touch<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Amy Maidment<\/h5>\n<p>Out come the flowers all colourful and new,<br \/>\nLook at the sky it&#8217;s exquisite blue.<\/p>\n<p>Look at the leaves back on the trees,<br \/>\nI bet you there&#8217;s fairies if we all believed.<\/p>\n<p>Don&#8217;t you just love it when it&#8217;s spring,<br \/>\nAll the birds come out to sing.<\/p>\n<p>See the buttercups shine so bright,<br \/>\nIt&#8217;s that special spring light.<\/p>\n<p>So it&#8217;s spring time that time of year,<br \/>\nWhen we can all wake up to the sun and cheer.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Lynn Fancy<\/h5>\n<p>Late this year<br \/>\nUnopened and unseen<br \/>\nDelayed the mirth of a new year\u2019s rebirth<br \/>\nTucked away not revealing the stem<br \/>\nThe stalk of growth<br \/>\nPrevented, kept beneath<br \/>\nPushing for light but forced<br \/>\nTo stay<br \/>\nIn the shade.<br \/>\nTime<br \/>\nWaiting with an urgency of<br \/>\nSomething nobody can quite describe<br \/>\nThe needed warmth, light<br \/>\nBreeze.<br \/>\nThe chill can still be felt as<br \/>\nThe cold east wind blows its disdain in the face<br \/>\nOf the bloom.<br \/>\nIt stands. It waits. It breaths<br \/>\nShoot.<br \/>\nRoot.<br \/>\nUnwind<br \/>\nThe warmth kisses the cheek of the ground in which I am suspended.<br \/>\nReleased.<br \/>\nBlossom<br \/>\nI am here. I am spring.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>C Seden<\/h5>\n<p><strong>crafting spring<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>add one more blanket, drop<br \/>\njust one more tender layer<br \/>\naround winter&#8217;s caustic shoulders<br \/>\nto softly coax out change<\/p>\n<p>purpose soft movements, prompt<br \/>\nbuds that pulse momentum<br \/>\ntilting equinox, faltering<br \/>\nfalling from night to day<\/p>\n<p>whisk sprigs of birdsong, paint<br \/>\nstaccato technicolour hues<br \/>\nsluice lazy, tidal stripes<br \/>\nof splintered earth away<\/p>\n<p>find spring in your steps, burst<br \/>\nfreely, whistle sunbeams<br \/>\nto scour the corners out<br \/>\nwith novel possibility<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Bee Parkinson<\/h5>\n<p>In the springtime garden<br \/>\nThe birds do sing in tree\u2019s<br \/>\nThe delicate rustle of the breeze<br \/>\nRippling through the leaves.<\/p>\n<p>The sunshine spreads it\u2019s warmth<br \/>\nTendrils touching all they can<br \/>\nReaching and embracing<br \/>\nThe grass and leaves and budding flowers.<\/p>\n<p>Birds soaring through a clear blue sky<br \/>\nGeese curled sleeping on the grass<br \/>\nOthers picking through the dirt<br \/>\nFor the finest of tasty morsels.<\/p>\n<p>The rose bushes do lay empty<br \/>\nBut soon they will be filled<br \/>\nThe skeletal limbs of the tree\u2019s<br \/>\nShall soon be clothed with leaves.<\/p>\n<p>This is a springtime garden<br \/>\nWhere life shall grow again<br \/>\nSadness and pain have no place here<br \/>\nIn the springtime garden.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Emma Eagle<\/h5>\n<p><strong>A Season To Rejoice<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The cold dark days of winter recede,<br \/>\nSigns of spring trying to succeed,<br \/>\nWhere once frozen soil covered the ground,<br \/>\nWarmth from the sun causes seeds to stir,<br \/>\nNew shoots of life begin to show,<br \/>\nOnce out of sight under frozen snow<\/p>\n<p>Up above in the warming air the birds now fly,<br \/>\nSearching for their mates in the sea of endless blue sky,<br \/>\nCreatures stir as if transformed<br \/>\nNature knows a trick or two<br \/>\nThe circle of life commencing once again<br \/>\nSpring is sprung you cry,<br \/>\nThere is new life for all to see.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Ellen Renton<\/h5>\n<p><strong>The Tree Across the Street<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>As the world shifts from monochrome to pastel<br \/>\nThe tree across the street leaps into life<br \/>\nWith an eruption of cherry confetti<\/p>\n<p>They dance with no direction, pirouetting in the breeze<br \/>\nCurtseying politely<br \/>\nBefore swooping down to litter the pavement with fragments of spring<\/p>\n<p>The spectrum blossoms when the first tips fall<br \/>\nA new palette of warm yellows and dew greens painted in broad strokes<br \/>\nCheeks kissed by stray rays of sun are flushed pink with heat<br \/>\nCharcoal winter thawed and conquered by a more hopeful hue<br \/>\nAs we move into the sweeter territory<br \/>\nOf lighter nights and thinner tights<\/p>\n<p>Its reign is glorious yet short lived<br \/>\nThe season of the pink monsoon empties the branches of brightness<br \/>\nTo give the other shades their moment in the sunlight<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>James Hoyland<\/h5>\n<p>Buds on trees,<br \/>\nDaffodils in Yellow,<br \/>\nGrass growing under my feet,<br \/>\nWarmth on my skin,<br \/>\nAt last its spring.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<p>Antonio Rosales<\/p>\n<p>Living in Las Vegas the Springs are short,<br \/>\nthe flowers barely have time to hold court,<br \/>\nthe bees dance to show the way,<br \/>\nthe hummingbirds drink nectar without delay,<br \/>\nSummer is coming to melt us all,<br \/>\nSo we enjoy all we can and dream of the Fall.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Kirsten Reisinger<\/h5>\n<p><strong>Madame Humblebee<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I am Lilly Dee Humblebee,<\/p>\n<p>Year after year you look forward to the spring to enjoy the singing birds and to relax in the sun,<\/p>\n<p>Not me, Madame Humblebee.<\/p>\n<p>Month after month I am working so hard, the birds are my burden, the sun burns on my wings.<\/p>\n<p>I, Madam Humblebee have to be tough, just to realize that my honey is never enough.<\/p>\n<p>Week after week during the spring you enjoy the wonderful smell of the flowers and the nice breeze striking your face.<\/p>\n<p>Not me, Madame Humblebee.<\/p>\n<p>Day after day the same routine, the flowers\u2019 relentlessly smell rings my bell, the wind drives my pollen away.<\/p>\n<p>I, Madame Humblebee have to fly overtime, despite trying my best, the queen complains: \u201cLilly are you not serving me my bread purest and fine?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Minute after minute you enjoy the blue cloudless sky and the sound of the stream.<\/p>\n<p>Not me, Madame Humblebee.<\/p>\n<p>Second after second running out of time, the blue sky is my hourglass whose final falling grains warn of the first falling raindrops or the continuously setting sun.<\/p>\n<p>I, Madam Humblebee have to go with the flow of the hive, never to discover the joy of life.<\/p>\n<p>Should I, Lilly Humblebee, not change something to be free?<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<h5>Jo Roberts<\/h5>\n<p>Season\u2019s sweet green breath<br \/>\nshakes the fledgling season awake<br \/>\nto bask once more<br \/>\nin warming rays<br \/>\nbeneath vast squinting skies<br \/>\nwhile landscape thick with brown<br \/>\nembellished by the verdant threads<br \/>\nof ancient patterns<br \/>\nknowingly unfolds.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<p>END ###<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/graf-von-faber-castell.jpg\"><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-115\" alt=\"graf-von-faber-castell\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/graf-von-faber-castell.jpg\" width=\"1021\" height=\"325\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/graf-von-faber-castell.jpg 1021w, https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/graf-von-faber-castell-300x95.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/graf-von-faber-castell-150x47.jpg 150w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1021px) 100vw, 1021px\" \/><\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Spring Poetry Competition This competition has now closed, The Pen Company would like to thank everyone for their entries we really enjoyed reading them all. After much deliberation we have chosen&#8230; &#8230;. drum roll &#8230;. &#8230;. &#8230;. Lesley Fletcher &#8211; The Scripter Well done Lesley, we will be contacting the winner shortly to arrange delivery.&hellip;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":116,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v19.7.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Spring Poetry Competition to win a Graf von Faber-Castell Fountain Pen - The Pen Company Blog<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Calling all poets: To celebrate the written word we would like to invite all budding poets to enter our Spring Poetry Competition. 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Deadline 1st May 2013\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/competitions\/spring-poetry-competition\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Pen Company Blog\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/ThePenCompany\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2013-03-09T20:07:58+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2013-09-08T16:02:25+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/graf-von-faber-castell-fountain-pens.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"660\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"507\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Lucy Williams\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@thepencompany\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@thepencompany\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Lucy Williams\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"45 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/competitions\/spring-poetry-competition\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/competitions\/spring-poetry-competition\/\",\"name\":\"Spring Poetry Competition to win a Graf von Faber-Castell Fountain Pen - The Pen Company Blog\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2013-03-09T20:07:58+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2013-09-08T16:02:25+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.thepencompany.live\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/b621584a04332c39a493182f2dca6376\"},\"description\":\"Calling all poets: To celebrate the written word we would like to invite all budding poets to enter our Spring Poetry Competition. 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