Spring presents itself in body,
mind, and spirit, and, for most people, it’s a time of hope—a bridge between
winter’s darkness and summer’s fullness. In my part of the world, spring began
last Wednesday (March 20th) and, although the weather remains cold,
the sense of spring “being here” provides a lift to the spirits. In my front garden, the daffodils and hyacinths are up and should bloom in time for Easter.
This week,
let’s celebrate spring.
Things to Think About:
- How does spring make you feel?
- What are some characteristics of springtime?
- What specific seasonal changes occur in spring?
- What are some springtime impressions derived through your five senses? How does spring look, feel, smell, taste, and sound? (How do the trees look in spring? How does a spring breeze feel on your face? How does the earth smell after a spring rain? What does a spring raindrop taste like? How do the birds sound in spring?)
- What do the words lilacs, jasmine, orange blossoms, and peonies bring to mind?
- Why is a sense of newness important to you?
- What important thing happened to you during spring?
- Is there a special person whom you associate with spring?
- How would you describe spring in a way that’s unique, not the typical description?
- What does spring represent to you?
- How is spring a time of anticipation and possibilities?
Examples:
Happy spring, dear readers, may this new season bring you blessings and joy!
Next Saturday, March 30th, I’ll post the inspiration
words and example poems
for National Poetry Month and our annual poem-a-day throughout April, so stay tuned!
oh, Adele! With this post you made me remember a poem I wrote when I was a teenager; for the first love, maybe:
ReplyDeletefor Cynthia
Rosy clouds are sparkling
Desperate lovers
Primavera*
* in Italian in the text: primavera means spring
Oh, I love it, Jago! Young love/first love—one of the sweetnesses to remember when it's spring.
DeleteThanks so much for sharing this. I wish you a wonderful spring!
First love and the early poems it inspired -- this is wonderful, Jago! It reminds me of my own first love, all that young and wonderful intensity.
DeleteHey, Jago,
DeleteGreat little poem about a first love and spring. Funny, isn't it, how those early loves really were kind of "desperate" in their intensity.
Happy Palm Sunday, Adele!
ReplyDeleteThis is a great, upbeat prompt, and I love the image. Here in England, daffodils are among the first signs of spring.
Thanks so much, Jamie! Daffodils are also a welcome sign of spring here!
DeleteThe Hand-me-down
ReplyDeleteThe new pink jacket
One long breath away from shame
Nearly ruined spring
I sense a much longer story underlying this poem! A lot of nuance and suggestion. Thanks so much for sharing, Risa!
DeleteThanks, Adele. The poetry group agrees.
ReplyDeleteTo you, Adele, and to all your blog readers, I send my best wishes for a blessed and holy Easter.
ReplyDeleteI offer this poem by Ireland's William Butler Yeats as a reminder to all how important it is to work toward peace in our world.
Happy Easter!
Máire Ó Cathail (Ireland)
Easter, 1916
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
That woman's days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our wingèd horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road,
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone's in the midst of all.
Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse—
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
A great prompt, great example poems, and a great picture (daffodils are one of THE symbols of spring).
ReplyDeleteHappy Passover and Happy Easter to all!
Thanks so much Bob! Happy Easter!
Delete