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neth jones Apr 3
lilly white lies           
patterned in the dirt
             hoof trodden
haiku inspired
Debbie Apr 1
The buds anxiously wait to burst through
warmer, softer ground.
They sprout like a secret lacking sound.
First signs of spring and the excited joy they bring.
Accompanied by joyous melodies the birds do sing.
Robin's, dressed in their red breast, hop everywhere.
A sky saturated blue, provokes a happy hypnotic stare.
The sun's soft spring heat shines on the thick, smooth buds.
Sometimes what is fragile is at the same time tough.
And renewal of earth and heart is abundantly enough.
So many great poets on here, I'm glad I joined.
MetaVerse Mar 31
March spring showers—
Thunder and lightning—
Hail pummels flowers—
March spring showers
Shower for hours—
Gradually whitening
March spring showers—
Thunder and lightning—
We venture into the storm
Against my better judgment
(I’m ready to go home)

The wind kicks up
And a thousand
No
A million flower petals
Swirl around us frenetically.
Great beasts of raw, hungry light snap their jaws
Not so far away

You aren’t scared,
Your curls wild in the dark.
The storm, you say.
The storm, Mama!

The sirens, now,
And the rain,
And so many flower petals.

We turn and head back inside
To wait a little longer.
MetaVerse Mar 29
Wintertime's hoarfrost, ice and rime
Have gone; departed hath the Gloom.
Make haste, ye maids, in Lilac Time:
Collect your Blossoms whilst they bloom.
What blooms today soon fades away:
Gather ye Lilacs while ye may,
Sith times, like Flying Saucers, zoom.
Mivel Mar 28
Oh, Lily
How beautifully you lie there,
In the curly waves of the river
Golden beams gently touch your skin
As a way to wake the sleeping saint

A trumpet of petals calls me from afar;
It is the only thing that I hear
Blaring in a quiet hearth
Where a name without vowels is engraved
I wander, unaware of its gentle retreat.

I watch it dance
Six needles holding the stamen
Like a surfboard grasping for its life
One more whirl of the winds,
Then it would fall on the carpel's feet.

I sojourned in this garden once;
You might never see me or I might never see you
Let Zeus lurk for Hera's liquid at last
'Till it splashes, stained, and bloom
In every season of my mind.
Arii Mar 28
A lighter in my hand
Cigarette in the other

My mouth hurts like knives
And my stomach eats at my insides

The tiny stick catches flame
And smoke rises with my pain

I inhale the relief and waste
And whatever else it contains

It’s a tiny minute fire
Like my dying desire

To die in a six foot deep ditch
With nothing but my pack of cigarettes

And a busted overused lighter
I hope it catches my body on fire

When dirt covers my rotting corpse
And flora starts to grow

Don’t put a gravestone over me
For I do not have a name to be known

By the world the life and sun
It can’t get me anymore it can’t make me want to run

I hope flowers grow over my body despite the fumes
Like the smoke and soot that I consume
Yesterday, white and cold was the weather
It’s now gone old winter
It’s like turning a light switch on
Today is the birth of the spring season
Let me wish you: Happy Anniversary, Ms. Spring
Happy Birthday, my love! Again, the birds are chirping
After a long séjour flying in a warmer climate
They look like lovers coming off a lavish date
Tonight is our turn to go to dinner
To a fine dining restaurant and then to the theater
Where we can unwind, relax and have fun
The tropical wind is back, the warmth of the sun
Is back and the moon is dancing among the stars
And of course, the beauty of the magnificent flowers
Cannot be ignored. Old and grouchy winter is gone
All the lights and glitters are on, a new season is born.

Copyright © March 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
It's a good place,
The place we are.
Even in the cold weather,
I know I have your warmth to hold me over.
Because after all the freezing winds,
Comes the happy days of spring,
And this spring, I'll be happy with you.
So won't you get your converse on,
To come flower picking with me.
We can skip down flower fields,
Picking plenty of rosy red poppies.
Love grows with the seasons
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