The Virtual Poetorium for March 29th, 2022

Dear Readers,

Here is the link to the March 29, 2022 edition of the Virtual Poetorium published five nights ago on the Poetorium website for you to hopefully peruse and enjoy at your leisure:

I want to thank my fellow bloggers Melissa LaFontaine, and (Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris for graciously accepting the invitation to participate which I issued on this blog last month. Since this was probably the most successful Virtual Poetorium ever with fifteen poets participating, it may be too long a read (thus far too overwhelming for most of my readers), so I have decided not to repost the Virtual Poetorium in its entirety here on this blog as I have often done with previous editions. Instead I will do like I did last month, and just post this March’s Poetorium group poem (always one of my favorite segments of the Poetorium). Happily, as opposed to February’s poem for which we got only two submissions, we received contributions from seven poets (besides myself) so this poem is a bit longer this month. I want to thank Joe Fusco Jr., Tony Fusco (no relation), Dwayne Szlosek, Robert Eugene Perry, Melissa LaFontaine, Howard J Kogan, Cheryl Bonin, and Elizabeth (who didn’t leave the last name) for contributing and making the following poem possible (I hope you will enjoy it):

Just What Is This Thing Called Spring?

Spring is butterflies and buzzing bees.

Spring is
the raucous ravings
of avian angst.

Spring is Cherry Blossoms and blue skies.
Spring is the scent of bursting green blades.

Spring is the first dandelions
slow honey bees from the hive,
the fond hopes of the new year
tempered by memories of the past year.

Spring is falling in love all over again.

Spring is meeting someone new, as pretty as a spring rose.
Come dance with me, under the full moon tonight.
Come, the music is soft like the beauty I hold in my arms.
I can not look away, as I look into your eyes,
I see two people falling in love.
That’s why spring is, only for you and me to see our future
And love becomes one of the same, my true love to be.

Spring is dancing in the light sprinkle of rain.
Spring is cloud shapes transforming into ships and dragons.
Spring is a baseball hotdog and salted peanuts.

Spring is baseball…
Oiled gloves, tarred bats, chawed tobacco,
Coiffed grasses, smoothed dirt, powdered lines,
Old-timers, baby-faced rookies, renewed rivalries
Herald the coming of Spring.

Spring is the very nature of time changing speed.

Spring is effusive and too far away to be considered real
I can’t see the buds on the trees or the watering of potential
no warm breeze to feel
I do hear the birds singing but it seems like they do it in spite
I do sense the longer days and memories of my own fanciful flight
but it comes so silently I might as well not wait
or listen for the calls of geese as they break winter’s long state.

Spring is a non sequitur in Woosta!

Spring is only a rumor in New England.
Winter fades to Summer so quick
You’ll see us in shorts and winter jackets
Sandals and scarves, our cars’ back seats
Looking like a rummage sale.

Spring is now just a mere stopover on the long trek from Winter
To Summer, but back when I was a kid, it was our prime destination,
and I recall swinging on the backyard swing, and first noticing
new buds on the branches of the once bare elms and oaks,
the daffodils and paper whites in bloom, and experiencing
the inexplicable thrill of knowing that we had finally arrived!

—The March 2022 Virtual Poetorium Group Poem

9 thoughts on “The Virtual Poetorium for March 29th, 2022

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