Spring Poetry Quotes

Things I love about spring are these:
Blooming flowers on fruit-bearing trees.
Fire-red tulips - their first reveal -
Followed by sun-yellow daffodils.

Trees acquiring new coats of green.
Natural waterfalls glistening.
The chirps and melodies of birds.
Throaty ribbits of frogs overheard.

A passing whiff of mint to smell,
Oregano and basil as well.
Colorful butterflies with wings.
Fuzzy, industrious bees that sting.

Sunlight waning late in the day.
Warm breezes causing willows to sway.
Most of all, a sense of things new,
Including budding feelings for you. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Change like a tree
When it is winter
Don't complain or fear
Just wait for the spring
To bloom and sing ~ Debasish Mridha

An Ashinabe "spring poem" translated by Gerald Vizenor:

as my eyes
look across the prairie
i feel the summer
in the spring ~ Howard Zinn

Poetry is –
raw feelings as sunny summer,
fiery turmoil as vibrant autumn,
daunting revelation as stormy winter,
intrepid hope as blooming spring. ~ Gloria D. Gonsalves

The world is full of people who have lost faith: politicians who have lost faith in politics, social workers who have lost faith in social work, schoolteachers who have lost faith in teaching and, for all I know, policemen who have lost faith in policing and poets who have lost faith in poetry. It's a condition of faith that it gets lost from time to time, or at least mislaid. ~ P.D. James

Poetry criticism at its worst today is mean in spirit and spiteful in intent, as if determined to inflict the wound that will spur the artist to new heights if it does not cripple him or her. ~ David Lehman

And in the end,
she left a scar
and I knew that was
how she wanted to
be remembered.

She wanted to leave
her mark in the
world
without getting
her heart too
attached to it. ~ Robert M. Drake

The present is never poetic as it serves necessity, necessity, however, is prosaic. ~ Franz Grillparzer

Between my heart and your heart, there is a vein.
Maybe a bridge. ~ Emmanuelle Soni-Dessaigne

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am overwhelmed by the beautiful disorder of poetry, the eternal virginity of words. ~ Theodore Roethke

As I grew older - collapsing into my seventies, glimpsing ahead the cliffs of the eighties, colliding into eighty-five - poetry abandoned me. ~ Donald Hall

The poet's first job of work is to put bread on the table. ~ Yvor Winters

The faint hints of color in her complexion, her tawny blond hair, her extraordinary thinness, all spoke of that unearthly grace modern poets find in the medieval statues. Had she been happy, she'd have been ravishing: happiness constitutes pure poetry, for women. ~ Honore De Balzac

He took my hand, and pulled me into his living room where a book was open on his sofa. It was poetry, of course, because he was perfect. ~ Cora Carmack

... I don't know what I feel anymore, or maybe it's that I don't know HOW to feel anymore. I question every move I make, every breath I take, and every flutter of an eyelash. I've developed a twitch from always being on guard. I'm alert at night, and numb during the day, but I'm always ready. Maybe, I can intercept tragedy from striking again. ~ Alfa Holden

When the modern movement began, starting perhaps with the paintings of Manet and the poetry of Baudelaire and Rimbaud, what distinguished the modern movement was the enormous honesty that writers, painters and playwrights displayed about themselves. The bourgeois novel flinches from such notions. ~ J.G. Ballard

In a meadow full of flowers, you cannot walk through and breathe those smells and see all those colors and remain angry. We have to support the beauty, the poetry, of life. ~ Jonas Mekas

So I suppose poetry, language, the shaping of it, was and remains for me an effort to make sense out of essentially senseless situations. ~ Thomas Lynch

There can be no society without poetry, but society can never be realized as poetry, it is never poetic. Sometimes the two terms seek to break apart. They cannot. ~ Octavio Paz

perhaps like me she's vainly hoping
and some news awaits,
but the moist earth already holds him
in her strong embrace... ~ Nikola Vaptsarov

Most people do not believe in anything very much and our greatest poetry is given to us by those who do. ~ Cyril Connolly

Physical beauty is a subject that many skirt around and almost everyone attempts to down-play thereby demonstrating some sound moral stance, but it remains one of the glories of human existence. Of course, there are many people who are attractive without being beautiful just as there are beauties who bore, and the danger of beauty in the very young is that it can make the business of life seem deceptively easy. All this I am fully aware of. I know too, however, that of the four great gifts that the fairies may or may not bring to the christening – Brains, Birth, Beauty and Money – it is Beauty that makes locked doors spring open at a touch. Whether it is for a job interview, a place at a dining table, a brilliant promotion or a lift on the motorway, everyone, regardless of their sex or their sexual proclivity, would always rather deal with a good-looking face. And no one is more aware of this than the Beauties themselves. They have a power they simultaneously respect and take for granted. Despite the moralists who tut about its transience, it is generally a power that is never completely lost. One can usually trace in the wrinkled lines of a nonagenarian, stooped and leaning on a stick, the style and confidence that turned heads in a ballroom in 1929. ~ Julian Fellowes

I embraced a cloud,
but when I soared
it rained. ~ Frank O'Hara

The Poet's Credo
Write poetry like there's nobody reading,
Love poetry like nothing else matters,
Read another man's poetry as if
it was written only for you,
And live poetry like it's heaven on earth.

All the rest, my readers, is a footnote. ~ Beryl Dov

Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You've got to go so far so fast in such a small space; you've got to burn away all the peripherals. ~ Sylvia Plath

Spring is beautiful, and smells sweet. Spring is when you shake the curtains, and pound on the rugs, and take off your long underwear, and wash in all the corners. ~ Virginia Cary Hudson

Poetry is music for the human voice. Until you actually speak it or someone speaks it, it has not come into its own. ~ Maya Angelou

We are difficult. Human beings are difficult. We're difficult to ourselves, we're difficult to each other. And we are mysteries to ourselves, we are mysteries to each other. One encounters in any ordinary day far more real difficulty than one confronts in the most "intellectual" piece of work. Why is it believed that poetry, prose, painting, music should be less than we are? Why does music, why does poetry have to address us in simplified terms, when if such simplification were applied to a description of our own inner selves we would find it demeaning? ~ Geoffrey Hill

O Canada I have not forgotten you,
as I kneel in my canoe, beholding this vision
of a bookcase.
You are the paddle, the snowshoe, the cabin in the pines.
You are the moose in the clearing and the moosehead on
the wall.
You are the rapids, the propeller, the kerosene lamp.
You are the dust that coats the roadside berries.
But not only that,
you are the two boys with pails walking along that road. ~ Billy Collins

Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong: They learn in suffering what they teach in song. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

The plants all know that spring will soon return,
All kinds of red and purple contend in beauty.
The poplar blossom and elm seeds are not beautiful,
They can only fill the sky with flight like snow. ~ Han Yu

One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

With Rue My Heart Is Laden
With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade. ~ A.E. Housman

Until people see poetry as springing from all of life, they will isolate it in a creativity corner and treat it like a mascot. ~ Phillip Lopate

I am the dreamer and not the dream, from "Kenilworth ~ J.S. Watts

Remember why all of that happened. Don't push things away just because they didn't end up how you wanted them to. Accept that someone has left, accept that you have to let go of the ones that don't want to be with you. Growth starts not with forgetting but accepting. ~ Ventum

Take the time to write. You can do your life's work in half an hour a day. ~ Robert Hass

Why write poetry? For the weird unemployment. / For the painless headaches, that must be tapped to strike / down along your writing arm at the accumulated moment. / For the adjustments after, aligning facets in a verb / before the trance leaves you. For working always beyond / your own intelligence. ~ Les Murray

In Kyoto I never experienced an air raid, but once when I was sent to the main factory in Osaka with some orders for spare parts for aircraft, there happened to be an attack and I saw one of the factory workers being carried out on a stretcher with his intestines exposed.
What is so ghastly about exposed intestines? Why, when we see the insides of a human being do we have to cover our eyes in terror? Why are people so shocked by the sight of blood pouring out? Why are a man's intestines ugly? Is it not exactly the same in quality as the beauty of youthful, glossy skin? What sort of face would Tsurukawa make if I were to say that it was from him I had learned this manner of speaking - a manner of thinking that transformed my own ugliness into nothingness? Why does there seem to be something inhuman about regarding human beings like roses and refusing to make any distinction between the inside of their bodies and the outside? If only human beings could reverse their spirits and their bodies, could gracefully turn them inside out like rose petals and expose them to the spring breeze and the sun . . . ~ Yukio Mishima

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark,
And has the nature of infinity. ~ William Wordsworth

There's a pressure at all hours of the day only a poem can assuage. ~ Kristen Henderson

Some socialist movements in Egypt, Tunisia and Bahrain, for instance, were genuine. I was making films about the so-called Arab Spring, and I'm well aware of how complex the situation really was. But it goes without saying is that the West immediately infiltrated and 'derailed' the revolutions, turning them into what you have described. ~ Andre Vltchek

Once a man and his wife were sitting by the entrance to their house. They had a roasted chicken in front of them and were about to eat it when the man saw his father coming toward them. So the man quickly grab the chicken and hid it because he didn't want to give him any. The old man came, had a drink, and went away. As the son reached to put the roasted chicken back on the table, he found that it had turned into a large toad, which then spring onto his face, sat right on it, and wouldn't leave him. If anyone tried to take it off, the toad would look at the person viciously as if it wanted to spring right into his face, too. So nobody dared touch it. And the ungrateful son had to feed the toad every day, otherwise, it would have eaten away part of his face. Thus the son wandered aimlessly all over the world. ~ Jacob Grimm

He wondered if he would live to see the blossom on his apple trees and felt an answering pop inside himself. Ah, so it would not be long now. It began to snow lightly, the last flakes to fall before the spring. He put on his wedding finery, the clothes he had worn so long ago when he married his beloved Pamposh, and which he had kept all this time wrapped in tissue paper in a trunk. As a bridegroom he went outdoors and the snowflakes caressed his grizzled cheeks. His mind was alert, he was ambulatory and nobody was waiting for him with a club. He had his body and his mind and it seemed he was to be spared a brutal end. That at least was kind. He went into his apple orchard, seated himself cross-legged beneath a tree, closed his eyes, heard the verses of the Rig-Veda fill the world with beauty and ceased upon the midnight with no pain. ~ Salman Rushdie

I'm like the weather, never really can predict when this rain cloud's gonna burst; when it's the high or it's the low, when you might need a light jacket.
Sometimes I'm the slush that sticks to the bottom of your work pants, but I can easily be the melting snowflakes clinging to your long lashes.
I know that some people like:
sunny and seventy-five,
sunny and seventy-five,
sunny and seventy-five,
but you take me as I am and never
forget to pack an umbrella. ~ Naomi Shihab Nye

That is how a farmer walks across the soil in spring--and later, in summer, the traces of his steps are obscured by the billowing richness of the wheat he once sowed. ~ Joseph Roth

A poem is about something the way a cat is about the house. ~ Allen Grossman