Posts Tagged ‘Spring’

Green

Posted: May 18, 2020 in Poetry
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GREEN
By David Allen

Within a week
the world turned green
outside my humble home.
Branches that bore
tiny green shoots
now bend with the weight
of broad oak leaves.
The woods are alive
with chatterings and coos.
But the leaves hide
the high aerie roosts
and the busy birds
tending their broods.

FESTIVAL OF TOMBS

Posted: April 6, 2019 in Poetry
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FESTIVAL OF TOMBS
By David Allen

I love festivals and have attended many
from the most famous, Woodstock
a weekend of music, love, and highs,
to booths of pioneer crafts,
delicious Midwest treats and trappers tents
at Fort Wayne’s Johnny Appleseed celebration.
But the one event that impressed me the most
was the annual “Shimi” celebration of life
at Okinawa family tombs.

It’s a Spring cleaning of the soul.
In April families can be seen hard at work
neatening the areas around large tombs,
many shaped like a turtle’s back,
preparing for a weekend ceremony
to honor the dead.

It’s not the quiet, reverential scene you might expect.
Instead, they are picnics, blankets piled high with traditional
Okinawan food, cold drinks, and awamori, the island’s rice wine.
Children laugh and play as relatives catch up on the year
After a ceremony that includes prayers and offerings
of food, drinks, and scraps of burned money
left for the deceased to use during the coming year,
the lilt of a sanshin, the island’s three-stringed banjo, fills the air
along with folk songs sung in the local dialect.

Many tombs, which contain the dried bones of the dead, are centuries old.
The turtleback shape dates back to the island’s glory days and trade with China,
where they represented the turtle’s long lives.
Others believe the shape is a woman’s womb,
from which everyone is born and eventually returns.
Decades ago the tombs provided shelter from the storm of war.

The Shimi gatherings are times of joy, families honoring folks gone by
Who they believe watch out for them and prepare the way for the next life.
It became my favorite fest, except, perhaps, the colorful parade of prostitutes,
I mean, gifted geisha gals –In Naha’s ancient “comfort zone”
For sailors far from home.

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Daffodil

Posted: February 8, 2019 in Poetry
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Daffodils

DAFFODIL
By David Allen

As a flower
I’m a daffodil
(And not just because
I am a bit daffy.)
I am the Lent Lily,
the cheerful jonquil,
sign of Winter’s end,
a sunny yellow symbol
of hope that chases away
the cancer of the cold,
grey season.
My nodding head
creating,
inspiring,
never giving up
on my dreams.

 

Spring Haikus

Posted: April 22, 2017 in Poetry
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flower oil

SPRING HAIKUS
By David Allen

Spring rain brings rebirth
Flowers, warmth and grassy lawns
My basement’s flooded

Wake up Smokey Bear
Exit your cave, spring is here
Fires must be doused

Warm weather’s returned
Let us walk by the river
“Take a hike!” he said

Time for spring cleaning
Purge clutter, tend the gardens
The hammock awaits

Spring break now begins
Southern beaches, sun and fun
Rising gas prices

Driving windows down
Feeling the warming spring air
Costs just an hour

CHERRY 1

SPRING HAIKUS
By David Allen

Spring rain brings rebirth
Flowers, warmth and grassy lawns
My basement’s flooded

 
Wake up Smokey Bear
Exit your cave, spring is here
Fires must be doused

 
Warm weather’s returned
Let us walk by the river
“Take a hike!” he said

 
Time for spring cleaning
Purge clutter, tend the gardens
The hammock awaits

 
Spring break now begins
Southern beaches, sun and fun
Raising gas prices

 
Driving windows down
Feeling the warming spring air
Cost just an hour

 

reandme

March Mischief
By David Allen

The sun has returned,
the light’s too bright
after months of clouds.
We have lived through
several Februarys,
sun deprivation,
as the clouds and rain
dampened our spirits,
drugged us into
a somnambulistic shuffle,
merely marking the days,
the heatless hours,
cold nights in the subtropics.
Shivering, she screamed,
“Next year we winter in Guam!”
And headed undercover.
But now, all’s forgiven
as the sun warms us,
lulls us into shorts, bare feet,
ice cold beers in the afternoon,
lounging on the lawn
soaking in the rays,
building up the base
for nose blisters,
flaking foreheads.
All the while, Sol smiles
mischievously,
he knows the rainy season
is just weeks away.

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The latest Indiana Voice Journal is out. Read your copy today!

http://www.indianavoicejournal.com/2016/03/poetry-passion-and-song-march-2016.html

FALL LEAF IN SPRING

Posted: April 27, 2014 in Poetry
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FALL LEAF IN SPRING

Brown leaf hanging on
Fall remnant refusing to drop
Stubborn, just like me

By David Allen