Poetry Contest

Who’s up for a spring themed poetry contest? This idea came to me while walking through my garden and looking at all the flowering plants, and I started to think up poems about spring. I want to hear from you, what kind of poetry does spring inspire you to write?

Here are the rules:

  • you must be following my blog.
  • Your post must be written by you.
  • the poem can be already posted by you on your site, or you could write a new one for this challenge.
  • Put your poem in the comments, or comment with a link to it.

Any length of poem is acceptable, but the theme is everything spring. Flowers, new life, nature, etc.

The contest will end Saturday the 19th, so you have about two weeks, and on the 24th the winning poems will be posted. There will be first, second, and third place winners and some honorable mentions. Your poem will be posted on my blog with links to your blog. Please re-blog this and share the love!

 

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44 thoughts on “Poetry Contest

  1. Always interested in contests involving writing. Alas, my talents in poetry lay somewhere between the likes of William McGonagall and Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Sussex. I look forward to reading some of the work by some of your more talented followers, though.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Here is a poem for the spring poetry contest with a little introduction to go with it. Looking forward to reading you all over the next couple of weeks.

    At last. The weather forecast here is for sunshine and above 10 degrees celsius or 55 on the old scale for the first time here in many, many weeks. It has been a long winter up north here. But I am ready to start writing and blogging again with a new schedule so I will have time to get back to connecting with you all. Hope to catch up with fellow writers and readers like you soon. Best regards and thanks for reading. This is a celebration poem for spring. Hope you like it.

    Spring Cleaning

    Blessed be the pacific breeze
    Puffing across the Rockies at last
    Blasting new life across the prairies.
    Nature’s chlorophyll missile, now streaking high,
    Passing over the great lakes
    Slapping the grizzled icy hand of winter,
    His grasping bony white knuckles
    That have turned yellow with rage, like an unrepentant smoker.
    His fists
    Those patches of old, reluctant snow
    Hiding in shadows, behind fence posts.

    Blessed be the green grass
    Shooting through the cheeky April ice.
    The murmurings of melting
    The skitterings of life
    Begrudgingly released from winter’s tomb.
    That mean vagabond
    Is finally wrapping himself in old newspaper
    Somewhere on a bench,
    Too tired at last
    To shoo away the squirrels,
    To growl at the passing schoolchildren,
    His last hangover for the season
    Giving way to sunny sleep.

    Blessed be the pulse of life
    The strum of sunshine pleased with rainbows,
    Popcorn clouds that tease the corn,
    Deep rolling thunder inside a faraway storm.
    Blessed be the child in yellow boots
    Splish splashing straight towards the mirrored
    Puddles.
    Blessed be the promise of spring
    Life’s eternal gift returning
    Winter’s cruelty notwithstanding
    The hand that holds the puddled child on this spring day
    Is yours and mine
    In memory forever.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. More space/galaxes/stars/everything than specifically “nature”… but hopefully it still fits!

    31.
    To stand in the presence of the universe is something indeed.
    To feel that blanket of inky black cast itself over your head;
    To watch as the stars stitch themselves into the fabric of time;
    Revealing to you, the watcher, all the ages of existence.

    To stand there with awe is to be reminded of our size;
    That we are small beyond belief and are less than a
    breath of time as it undulates through space.
    There is comfort in this: for we are free, and in the end it shall go on;
    There is joy in it too; so stand back, look up, and
    Watch the stars, for they too gaze back.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. I am glad you acted on that sticky note. This poem celebrates a universe that is alive! That is definitely a preoccupation of poets inspired by spring and regenerative forces that coexist with us as we try to make sense of our place in the the universe, albeit mysterious and minute.

    Liked by 1 person

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