Spring Is A Thing by Celia Berrell

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Spring is a thing,
a seasonal symphony.
Singing its songs within nature’s fine harmony.

Plants grow new buds, putting leaves on display.
Birds return home from warm winter holidays.
Insects emerge from their dark hibernation.
There’s feeding and breeding and plant propagation!

Plants take their cues
from the air’s warmer ways,
while birds are called home by the length of the days.

Cold snaps confuse some key pollinators.
Should they wake up or remain hibernators?
Come out too early, no food will have grown.
Come out too late and their flowers have gone.

Spring is a thing.
A seasonal symphony.
Dancing with daylight and climate’s warm mystery.

Photo from Pixabay

The Majesty of Life by Stefan Nicholson

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Nature’s jewel shines not only upon the finger ring but within each glance,
where we see everything that sways the senses,
calms the breath and feeds the inner soul from birth to death
with riches far beyond the tools of man – displayed within the beauty of a delicate plan.

Imagine a whale’s journey or the migration of wild herds,
for the majesty of life cannot be explained in simple words. 

Just compare Earth’s night sky with moon and sprinkled stars,
to the mountains and rivers, oceans deep and tree-lined bays with bars.
And see that a common hand has touched each one
with fresh palette, to follow once each season has almost gone.

It seems there is a cyclic spell, yet with random chance of change
to make sea and lake become cloud and rain – sand and fire to mountain range.  
Lands of greens and browns with sky and sea of different blues
perceived by using light and dark, combining waves of special hues. 

And for each breath we take from the very time we’re born,
we feel the trees return a breath refreshed, starting every early morn.

Rainy days, summer afternoons, winter nights and stormy seas,
misty rain breathing on faces like a cool light-hearted tease.
Resonance feeding between the physical and imagined thoughts
which we keenly perceive and cherish and keep safe within our forts.

All this splendour is a wonder from some far, far distant throne,
which we accept lightly far too often with blind familiarity, as if we’re all alone.

There is strength in idle thoughts like a daydream coming true,
making sense of an unknowing, providing firm belief on cue.  
Visualising both origin and destiny as like the random path of man
exposing seeds of calculation as part of this grand majestic plan.

So, rejoice each child who falters, yet gets up each time they fall,
for they will spend a lifetime learning secrets, to why there is majesty at all.

The Colour of Life by Toni Newell

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Green strokes on paper
Underneath the blue
Depicting a rain forest
Greens of different hue.

Nature’s bountiful
Beautiful and clean
The foundation of life
And very often green.

Green symbolizes life
Producing oxygen
Which keeps us all alive
The world and mortal men.

Green’s pleasant to the eye
Calming and free
Covering mountains,
Shimmering from a tree.

The colour green’s alive
It’s vibrant and lush
And beautifully captured
By strokes with a brush.

Photo by Pixabay

Nature’s Knitting by James Aitchison

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Howling winds

from raging seas,

relentless, wild,

distort the trees.

Stunted growth

in salty air,

in sandy soil,

forlorn and bare.

Yet even here 

we find beauty,

in harsh and tangled

symmetry.

The Secret Lake by James Aitchison

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A rambling path

I chose to take,

until at last it led me to

a secret magic lake.

Trees formed walls 

on every side,

and there a little bridge

I spied.

It crossed the moat

to a fortress green,

where adventures waited —

perhaps a submarine? 

I closed my eyes

and made a wish

that my backyard

could look like this!

Teacher’s note: This lake is located in Red Cow Farm, Sutton Forest, in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales.  The farm boasts a series of different garden “rooms”.

Poem of the Day

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Winter Ablutions

 

Spider walks with shivery legs

to the edge of his dew-laden home, then waits –

perched on the bottom thread.

His white web of winter droplets

absorbs the morning sun.

Crouch

spring up

balance back on thread

hold tight.

Dew drops fall and spider

enjoys his morning shower.

Clean.

 

Caroline Tuohey
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #11

Poem of the Day

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Blueberry Pancakes and Parachutes

Silvery streaks of morning-time rain

puddling into the mud

reminds me of blueberry pancakes

and circular see-through parachutes.

 

Raindrops aren’t teardrops.

There’s no pointy tip.

Those free-falling globules

are blueberry round.

 

But if they meet-up

as they fall through the sky

a middle-sized raindrop

as-flat-as-a-pancake

might suddenly start to appear.

 

Bigger and larger and bulkier still

fast-falling raindrops

past pancake proportions

with stretch in the centre

and drag through the air.

 

For less than a second

becoming a dome

these small glassy parachutes

wobble then burst

to break into

blueberry droplets again.

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #11

Celia said: I was delighted to learn that raindrops make all these weird shapes as they fall to the ground.  This year I hope to receive Your Poems about the wonders of water for the Science Rhymes website.

http://www.sciencemag.org/news/2009/07/how-raindrop-exploding-parachute

 

Poem of the Day

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Hot Summer

 

It’s too hot to play,

So I snooze in the shade.

Lazing in the cool

of a massive fig tree.

Nature’s air conditioning.

 

It’s too hot to play,

So I dive in the salty sea.

Waves tickle me,

refreshing my body.

Nature’s swimming pool.

 

It’s too hot to play,

So I sit in a sudden breeze.

Cooling my sticky body,

blowing my hair.

Nature’s fan.

 

It’s too hot to play,

So I eat a fat watermelon.

Refreshing my dry mouth

trickling on my face.

Nature’s most refreshing treat.

 

Karen Hendriks
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7

poetry-prompt-7

 

Poem of the Day

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Flame Trees

 

Come November

the flame trees

begin to wear their fire.

Over there a winking ember

peeps cautiously

from a green crown,

hinting at Christmas

and stirring nervous thoughts

of fire in green places,

 

while nearby, an extrovert,

naked through winter,

makes a spectacle of herself

in the full flare

of a brand new red dress.

 

How do I look?

she asks seductively,

 

and even the old Jacarandas

in their cool quenching blue

offer nothing but

compliments.

©  Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

poetry-prompt-3

Poem of the Day

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Plastic

 

Useful, cheap, convenient,

Found everywhere in our seas.

Endless uses.

It floats, swims, travels,

Found in hungry bellies.

Entangles and traps sea life.

 

Our Sea

Once clean and pristine,

Full of plastic debris,

No longer free of you,

On the sea bottom,

On the sea top,

No escape from you.

 

Crying Sea

How much longer can the sea put up with you?

Or will the sea just become a murky plastic soup?

Please stop the plastic poisoning,

Before it’s too late.

Stop making useless waste,

That hurts and kills me.

Karen Hendriks