Spring

There are pale green leaves on the Japanese Magnolia,

Irreverent leaves that know nothing of the pain that came before them.

They drink up the bright sun and whisper happy songs to the wind.

Songs about daffodils and children in Sunday dresses and baby chicks and rabbits,

But they never notice the cloying scent of decaying blossoms, so recently fallen

From the same branches which gave them life.

They never listen to the story of how so many leaves have come before them,

Singing the same song of new beginnings,

Only to be torn from their limbs to ripen and decay and be forgotten.

And we have forgotten them.

We’ve forgotten the death of Autumn and the numb misery of Winter,

And think only of the pale green leaves.

But the bees hum in elegy around the fallen blossoms,

And busily prepare for the death and pain

That only they remember.

 

 

Reviews

[Tony]

The people who worked closely or had a relationship among those who came before them remember them when they're gone. People who have never had a relationship like that in their lives will live not noticing those who came before. Also when we are active in the world we know the cycles of life and prepare for them like the bee who flies from blossom to blossom gathering nectar for honey for food through the winter. Great write anyway you interpret it.

[YouoweYoupay]

This is amazing. I loved the idea of focusing on trivial events, like the falling of the litte leaves, and I loved the heart-content of this beautiful write. Living in happiness and an era of spring not knowing about the funerals and gloomy winters that passed before. It's innocent, simple, and sweetly deep. It's defin. one of my favs. (Added!) Thank you for sharing. Keep writing.

-Wella.

[bluessadmood]

This is nice and wise too..though i am baffled
i dont really know what you by this this could be interpreted in many forms
for its the way of life that new things when old ones dies
thats how it always is..so many nations and countries left so others were built in place
but maybe you are telling of us being ungrateful in everything..
even writers ..these thoughts i put here i gathered from so many that passed
hundreds of years behind me..thoughts just accumulate and show in other shapes
everything was started from a small different size and we build on it
just like the trees they shed the old ones in Automn ,in winter its like they sleep and think
whatever they will bring forth in spring for always ..the new coming is better than before
i liked the idea ,only i wish i was right to see what you meant
lovely write..

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

This poem speaks volumes about the apathy of man.
We try so hard to distance ourselves from animals as
far as intelligence, but this quest for humanity sometimes
leaves behind the instinctive good that is born into our hearts.