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"THE SOUNDS OF SPRING"

"THE SOUNDS OF SPRING"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 23rd March 2011.

The hollow sound of sticks on ice,
the ski sticks on the snow,
the wail of winds in crevices,
this winter's going slowly on to spring,

where winds still howl their ditties
deep within the bushes, forests, wilds,
and down beneath the cover white,
the gurgling brooks take up the strain
and with them sounds the rain,

the palest grass takes colour, leaves on trees,
the crocus cups salute the snowdrops,
aconites and primroses, the needles turning green,
the sound of happy voices from the children's joy,

the spring is here and all peoples rejoice,
how loved, the warmth of summer's on the way,
we can throw off those heavy clothes
don shorts and pretty frocks and play.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Last few words: 
Just a simple Spring song Ann.
Editing stage: 

Comments

you caught the last vestiges of winter giving in to spring well. Down here the dogwoods are on the verge of blooming and the cherry and pear trees are already in full bloom. the 1st leaves unfurled yesterday. The only problem with your poem is the title. It leads one to think only the sounds will be covered. Probably just me..........stan

If you listen carefully you can hear the grass growing,
in poetry the imagination can create sounds not seen or heard usually
and I hoped this would be conveyed here Stan,
I did even think that myself now you mention it so well heard,
perhaps I should write one with only sound in it and swop titles.

I saw blossom from the plane in Charlotte as I flew from Cleveland Ohio,
white on many trees, but it was outside the airport and I didn't see it closely,
it was a tree snowfall that pleased me.

In New York the tulips were not yet out, they certainly weren't out here, but in Geneva the crocus and snowdrops were, what a journey from place to place, just to get a cheaper ticket!!!

Spring spring for Stan
Spring spring for Ann
Spring spring for everyone, if it can.
Love Ann.

P.S. SH! I had a Cornus Nuttali the one with
the big white four-petalled flowers,
it may still be where I planted it........?

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

Maybe pretty pretty this stuff, but I see this and feel this even if it is considered pretty pretty, soppy lady in the Spring! I am still in my mother's shadow, she too loved all the details of nature, as did my father, so we tripped into Spring and saw all the changes intensely; and it has been a whole week of hot sunshine so one cannot be soulful and sad can one?

Glad you enjoyed it dear Jayne, good, so good to see you here, love to you from me.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

I am laughing as I see what you mean dear Ian, by feeling slightly uncomfortable with the last word, it was a case of rhyme too, bad girl, perhaps I could find another that would make the same sound or meaning that could be just right too.

Thank you for your comment. love to you and Anne, Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

Does your blood pressure go up and down with the high up and low down clothes Ian?
OOps sh!! I see a passion flower here, ha! LuvAnn :)

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

but loses in the rhythm (at least the way i read it)
some suggestions (imho i stress)

The hollow sound of sticks on ice,
the ski sticks on the snow, (you use 'sticks' twice here )
the wail of winds in crevices,
this winter's going slowly on to spring, -(loses that lovely rhythm)

what about something like
- The hollow sound of sticks on ice,
the ski tracks on the snow,
the wail of winds in crevices,
winter slowly moves to spring

the palest grass takes colour, leaves on trees, (not clear what you mean)
the crocus cups salute the snowdrops,
aconites and primroses, the needles turning green, (i'd lose the 'and')
the sound of happy voices from the children's joy, ( a little short in beat...)
so:
the palest grass takes colour, leaves appear on trees,
the crocus cups salute the snowdrops,
aconites, primroses, the needles turning green,
the sound of a happy choir of voices singing children's joy,

hope you don't mind me
i can't help myself when i love something as i do this write

i so love the image i conjour when reading
'we can throw off those heavy clothes
don shorts and pretty frocks and play.'

hugs from your
judyanne

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

Oh how wonderful to hear from you judyanne, and with such sound advice you make me happy, as always. I will attend to the possible changes and appreciate your crit.

We are soon off to Flatdal, maybe without much net! So I don't know if I shall be able to communicate on here in the Summer months, will try. Love to you and I will send some warmth to Australia for you, its been over 31%C in the shade here recently! Looks hot today too.
Green, green, green Summer is here.

Love as aye your annanya

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment
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