Spring a time to sing

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  • Nature

    Spring a time to sing

    Spring, such a simple thing
    Birds fly, high in the sky
    not a noise, not a sound
    As you run your fingers through the flowers
    you feel the rain begin to fall and shower
    you begin to dance and twirl
    feeling weary as the day dawns
    you hear a melody setting you in
    a trance of sweet complexity
    you start to sing your sweet little melody
    down and up the wonderous forest you go
    lost in every wicked thought you know
    flowers bloom every which way, here and there, everywhere
    Life becomes clear as the world opens
    coming full throttle like trojans.
    Spring is a time to sing
    until the rain stops and you hear the bell ring.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    Roseheart17’s Poems (8)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Love by night 0
    Anxiety 0
    Lies 1
    Friendship 0
    What is Life? 0
    Spring a time to sing 0
    A Cold Winter Night 1
    A walk on the beach 0