Poetry of the week – spring
| April 16, 2012 | Posted by Georgie Tindale under poetry |
Light on the Valley
The Sun creeps over to take the first,
Steps to look over the hillside
Where the lambs do stumble,
First strides of the year.
The green grass reflects the blue,
As the sky blue and shining white,
Clouds which keep their place,
With no wind to shift them.
Let the lambs jump and flee,
The parents which support in a flock,
With bairns born to the world,
Another Spring begins.
By Maisie Poskitt
Twelve Lines
Away among the breezes I listlessly sway,
Gentle currents rock me like a leaf,
Above the hills and valleys.
The stillness all around, peace takes over grief,
I dive into the depths of calm,
Unhesitating, unmoved.
Alas, should I be elsewhere roaming?
A tightening hand is here, at play,
Cautiously consuming.
But silvery water flows below the solid earth,
Forever present, lifting a furrowed brow,
Breezes come and go.
By Georgie Tindale
Spring
The mourning,
And the dusk of winter
Have passed,
Followed here by the new,
The life,
The change,
The youth.
In a cycle,
A story,
Always ending,
And beginning,
And ending
Again.
Full of colour,
And light,
And change,
And youth.
Coming after,
The mourning has passed
Bringing bitter-sweet beauty.
By Alaa Jasim
The Hinge; the Regression
Fingers push through crowds of dirt,
Causing the crashing cave-ins,
The screams and the torpid dreams
Dissipating like heat in steam.
Blackened nails, filthy organic rust;
Dead dynamite sticks, miniaturized
Without their fuses scraping moss
From the tombstone. Spiders
Grasp at crumbling soil. It falls,
The noise like trees felled, groaning.
No matter how softly the sun shines
There is never a doubt; this world
Is desolate. It is skeletal; it is the remains
Of the graveyards of forests and nascent cement
And yet it asks for so much. Now the apes stumble
Through life wondering where all the life has gone,
Tripping over their own clumsiness, head over heels
Into the unmarked grave. Under the swaying feet
Of kindergarten children, bibs still wet
With saliva, kissing under a cherry blossom tree
The dead turn and murmur. In this age
We grow old too young, and the springing youth
Fades into soil and white bone too soon.
/Rise. Shake the dizziness from the head;
You’ve no blood to form an excuse.
Crush the concrete underfoot
Until you reach the brown;
Put the dried wildflowers back
In their dried-out vase. Like a clot
The grey goes on forever.
Rise. The sun is rising. Rise.
The last day of the solstice is here;
The wind is looking at you,
And smiling winter straight back
Like a shot in your gaunt face.
Upturn your eyes and taste the sunrain;
Kiss the warmth while it’s still there.
Watch the green burst from blankets of brown
And grey; we will have this spring yet, ape. Rise./
By Joshua Teo
Fickle return
The wind, snow, rain descends,
Then the sun rises,
Jolly, like an old friend.
But spring is fickle,
Back to our snow,
How we watch life tickle.
When finally the snow falls back
Sprouts push from the earth,
Suddenly nature changes tack.
All at once our plants leap,
From the ground they reach.
bees sing, there’s nectar to reap.
Now the lambs cry out.
for there’s grass to eat,
And the insects fly.
Life returns to flourish,
After winter’s silence
Life returns to nourish.
By Ellys Sugarman
Each week The Student Review publishes a collection of poems about a particular topic or theme. For this week’s theme, or to submit a poem, go here.
