spring

Day 4 ~ The Man with Lambs in his Eyes

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Today’s prompt was to write a triolet.

 A triolet is an eight-line poem. All the lines are in iambic tetrametre (for a total of eight syllables per line), and the first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines. This means that the poem begins and ends with the same couplet. Beyond this, there is a tight rhyme scheme (helped along by the repetition of lines) — ABaAabAB.

But I decided to play with it so I have written a double-triolet and a triad.

The Man with Lambs in His Eyes

the Ocado man came today
the sunshine arrived in his trail
he saw the spring lambs on his way
the Ocado man came today
he’d been watching the spring lambs play
they’d danced all his worries away
the Ocado man came today
and sunshine arrived in his trail

seeing the mirror this morning
I looked deeply into my eyes
I saw a strange sign and a warning
seeing the mirror this morning
no recognised face was forming
it gave me a total surprise
seeing the mirror this morning
I looked into faded dark eyes

the Ocado man came today
with lambs dancing in his eyes
and wiped all my troubles away

© A.Chakir 2023

Spark

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The crocus on the frosted green
for six short decades I have seen.
I’ve gathered treasures to my store.
There will not be so many more.
My troubles are not any less,
I still have reason for distress,
and yet I feel my spirits rise.
This sudden light, a sweet surprise,
As spring reveals a summer sky.
Hope returns and does not die.
It’s raining now again today
but I remember yesterday.

I feel the spark of life within.
It trumpets loud – begin, begin!

The Birch Tree

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the graceful birch, straight ahead
where the forest begins, a white cluster
the old wood has fallen
and rotted to riches
feeding the daffodil shoots
pushing upward, splitting the earth
tender tree, a white beacon
stands by the dark forest edge
this is a time for promises
made to each morning begun

the sap, so sweet before the first green,
becomes bitter when the year starts to age

Persephone

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Ceres hands have been at rest
Now she spins her spells anew
And the land is freshly blessed
Magic sparkles in the dew
Her song of rebirth wakes her daughter
Hidden in the ancient depths
Held in night that brings no day

Persephone has been away
Bringing comfort under earth
Distraction in the realms of death
Where darkness broods in Pluto’s lap
Until in time she is released
To shine in glory once again
Child of Spring and Summers breath

April showers bring the rainbows
Seven coloured belt so rare
Girdled round Persephone’s waist
Scattered daisies in her hair
Dancing bare foot in the grass
Whirling, spinning, wild and wanton
She spreads enchantments everywhere
Where she steps the flowers bloom
And we know that winter’s past

Springs Song and Dance

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Here is comes!
The Overture!
Winter ice melts away
Runs in rivulets of water
Puddles reflect a silver sun
Splattered light, all a-dazzle

The snowdrop rings a tiny bell
Listen close
It bows its head
With tender grace
In sweet sonata
Shy performer on life’s stage

The crocus come
Gentle choral
Adding colour
Bringing warmth
The trees burst forth in emerald bud
Birds fly in from warmer climes
All sleeping creatures come awake
All is chatter, all is bustle
Adding to the seasons song

In the garden
Daffodils march in
Blaring trumpets
Yellow chalice
Golden gongs
Gilly-flowers join the dance
Forsythia, Hyacinth,
Frezia, Lilac, Helleborus
Cornucopia of scent

Blue bell carpets in the forest
Where the shade is damp and dense
All the worlds a jubilation
Sung forth from the blackbirds throat
Bringing joy to the morning
Making all our spirits rise
Flying upward with the birds
To the bright cerulean sky

Springs Fanfare

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

when spring returns her dress is yellow

bluebell garlands round her ankles

snowdrops scattered in her hair

where she walks the buds burst forth

daffodils her orchestra

could any maiden be more fair?

the sky is blue, the breeze is gentle

all is fresh and new again

birdsong fills the sweet soft air

life renews in endless cycle

gone the bitter cold and darkness

away, away with winter care

soon the meadow banks will fill

with the flowers of warmer days

i will rest, for dreaming, there

 

Coton Manor Bluebell Wood Northamptonshire

 

pocket_watch_and_snowdrops_flower_stock_by_nexu4-d5znq4t

 

 

At the Water Meadow

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

After three days of sunlight

the May bursts forth,

shining white stars amongst hedgerow leaves.

In the marshlands tall grasses wave feathered plumes of gold and cream,

tender on green silken stems.

The sycamore bedecked in bright green catkin tails sways in a gentle breeze,

a reminder of lambs.

A blackbirds sings atop the cedars outstretched limbs,

a dark silhouette against bright blue sky.

Dandelions with sun-filled faces

spread across suddenly verdant pasture.

The air is filled with the scent of new mown grass,

fresh cut blades scatter at the grey roads side

as I wander home in the falling light.

 

At my door,

one dandelion forces its way upwards

through the red tiles of the doorstep,

spring strong, shining,

a signal that summer comes.

 

Life bursts into bud

quiet fanfare for summer

warmth, wonder, delight.

Love is equally enlightening.