Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Spring Ballad

Winter comes in, freezing the land.
On the surface, it all seems so grand.
Picture perfect, Christmas cards,
Kid's frolicking in the snow and school yards.

But underneath lurks the true power.
Beneath the dirt, the evergreen bower,
Lies power so great, nothing can withstand,
No matter how strong, be it earth or sand.

If it's the rock of a mountain or of a river,
It will succumb to the great power, as a fever.
For the smallest seed can lie in wait,
Waiting for its time, for its fate.

But lo, watch for the eruption to happen;
Watch for the strength of the new sap and
You will see something so glorious, so full of life,
Your heart will pause, for moment there won't be strife.

For within the seed, be it a poppy or a pine,
There is life. Forceful, unending, on earth it will dine.
Tendrils reaching out, sucking up every drop of water,
Devouring its mother's nutrients and pushing out her.

Ground must give way, lifting higher until it breaks.
Rocks give away a small piece, the roots like stakes.
Each crack being formed, being turned to earth,
Mawing, mashing, crushing, curling in its berth.

On land, beyond the salty seas and the wide oceans,
Plants grow, flow and quietly overtake what others shun.
Abandoned houses, roads, soon are plundered by nature.
Seeds float in the breeze, waiting for their chance at nurture.

The torrential rains wash away the last remnants of winter,
As the seeds of the plants and trees begin to splinter.
And through the earth it comes never stopping or done.
Over and over again, the cycle it grows with help from the sun.

Until the human eye can see the happy and wonder of its beauty.
Flowers, trees, plants of all sorts, some bushy, some climbing like ivy.
Some reedy and thin, some crawl along the ground.
Searching for a place to call home, a place to abound.

As you look at spring's gentle beauty, it's easy to miss,
The power which made it possible to enjoy such bliss.
But it's always there, lurking creeping, doing as it must.
To make sure that the colors of spring don't stay as dust.

The other ballad links:

Note: First two are darker, the last is a funny (as you can probably tell by the titles lol) :D

Ballad to Screwed Up Love


Death and the Red Parrot


Ode to Sinusitis



  1. Yay!!! See i haz good ideas! :-)

  2. LOL it's short and not so sweet but I'm glad you like it since you asked for it! :D

  3. I receive a lot of commenting through twitter about my blog :D I'm going to start posting them. When I remember to anyway :D

    This is from SassyOutWater :D

    @L_bushman hahaha, you make me want to pick up my harp and compose an ode to Spring. Nice work.