To her fair works did Nature link
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The birds around me hopped and played,
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
If this belief from heaven be sent,
I feel a spring in my step
Are you feeling it yet?
The temperature is better
According to the weather
The brollies have gone
The blackbird is singing his song
I see more smiling faces
Amongst all the races
People have more energy
Or is this just positive me
The skies look very blue
Do you have a spring in your step too?
Gillian Sims
Seashell whispers
Shy hello’s to French fellows
Soft and luscious marshmallows
Deep red roses
Babies noses,
Large rolling sea waves
Mysterious beach caves,
Deep purple crushed velvet
Treasures that I have kept,
Red and brown autumn leaves
Sweet memories of sweet dreams,
children’s laughter while they play
Meeting dawn, a brand new day,
Daffodils in the spring
All the pleasures that summer can bring,
Warm sweet mulled wine
The season of Christmas time,
Making strawberry jam
The beautiful sight of a new-born lamb,
Finding words for poetry
Sitting quietly with a cup of tea,
Walking the sands in my bare feet
Enjoying the ultimate barbecue feast,
Seeing the wonderful sights of the coast
Eating a lovely Sunday roast,
Watching the ducks swim and bathe
The aroma of freshly baked bread
Cascades of colour from fireworks
Up with the lark feeling alert
Seeing the stars in the sky at night
These are all the things I like
By Gillian Sims
The October rust faded
and awakened
a new beauty
in nature’s secret womb.
The flowers lit up,
singing,
in the orgasm
of their fiery rebirth.
-The Manoj Arora.
Check out more of my works at my blog-
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.
I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.
And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that’s gone astray, and is lost.
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