Tag Archives: spring

Poem 39: It seems we’ve entered into winter’s frost

(The poetic form selected for this month is the English or Shakespearean Sonnet).

It seems we’ve entered into winter’s frost.
Your sullen glances hold a cold distain.
Fourteen years together look as lost
And rain an icy sleet. There is no gain.

There was a springtime time when all was new.
We’d picnic in the willow’s lovely shade
And talk and dance and laugh the season through.
We thought our love was truly heaven-made.

As all four seasons come and all four go
Time turns quaint foibles into tiresome ways.
“Whose turn to cook?” is greeted with “Dunno”.
What future? How much longer are our days?

Tonight we both saw light on wedding bands;
Our children sang some songs, and we held hands.

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.

Poem 38: New Zealand springtime

(The poetic form selected for this month is the Standard Habbie aka Burns Stanza. This is the last habbie for this month).

Spring has almost sprung Down Under,
Then summer will rip spring asunder.
But first the cuckoo ‘cross the tundra
Sings a lot.
Our cuckoos whistle! What a blunder!
I quite forgot.

Then let us think of little lambs
Cavorting round with new-born charms.
All hardened hearts are then disarmed.
What a clot!
They’re born in winter on the farms.
I quite forgot.

Let’s call to mind the blossom trees!
Their beauty brings us to our knees!
Pinks and whites in gentle breeze.
I’ve gone to pot!
The florets burst in frosty freeze.
I quite forgot.

Springtime comes all to and fro,
The ducklings hatched a month ago,
Mountains may still get some snow.
It’s ordered not!
The spring’s a messy dance you know.
I quite forgot.

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.

Poems 23: The four seasons

(These limericks are the last of my first-of-the-month poems. There have been 35 poems in all. The weekly music finishes this coming Wednesday the 6th. There will have been 101 music compositions. The daily stories reach the finish line on Thursday 7th with story 1001).



Take note that the weather each winter
Is grey and in need of a tinter
If you slip on the ice
Which isn’t that nice
Your leg’ll get put in a splinter.



Just look at the weather each Spring
It’s an utterly pleasurable thing
It seems to get lotta
Brighter and hotta
With blossom buds blooming their bling.



Observe that the weather each summer
Can be a bit of a bummer
They forecast a drought
But we hardly get out
It just gets crumbier and crumber.



It seems that the weather each fall
Is worse than the autumn before
The more the rain wetters
The colder it getters
I’d rather no weather at all.

(Finally, since some definitions of the limerick say it must be bawdy and involve a member of the higher clergy…)


Did you hear of the bishop of York
Who was heavily into his pork?
Bits of the gristle
Sliced up his pizzle
So now he pokes with a fork.

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.

808. Flowering Cherry Lane


Cain and Elliott bought a house together on a little no-exit road. The road was lined with flowering cherries, and was called Flowering Cherry Lane. Cain and Elliott called their new home Blossom Cottage. In Spring the road was a picture.

There were only three houses on the road. It was practically deserted. About two cars a day, from the homes, used the road. The cherry trees growing along the verge of the road, apart from providing beauty, gave Blossom Cottage a great deal of privacy.

But – oh! my goodness! – how dangerous! Someone had written to the newspaper and complained. They had gone for a walk and happened upon Flowering Cherry Lane. There was no foot-path! No pavement! No sidewalk! How dangerous is that? They had to walk along the side of the road.

The serious issue was solved. The Town Council had the cherry trees chopped down. A digger uprooted the unsightly stumps. A footpath was created.

Thank goodness common sense and safety prevailed over… over…

…prevailed over… over…


Flowering Cherry Lane! Such a pretty name for such a dull, no-exit street.

To listen to the story being read click HERE!


Music 45: Gambolling lambkins


Spring doesn’t officially start for more than a month, but already there are lambs cavorting around the fields.

School used to stop for three weeks in August when I was a kid, and I always reckoned that the wild ducks starting laying their eggs around August 15. So come the August vacation and I’d be looking for ducks’ nests. I always (privately) think that Spring begins mid-August!

Somewhere in today’s music there’s bits of an old nursery rhyme (I think).

Listen to the music HERE.