My Paintings

Da Leetla Boy

Da spreeng ees com’ but oh, da joy
Eet ees too late !
He was so cold, my leetla boy,
He no could wait.

I no can count how manny week,
How manny day, dat he ees seeck,
how manny night I seet an’ hold
da leetla hand dat was so cold.

He was so patience,oh, so sweet.
Eet hurts my throat to theenk of eet:
An all he evra ask ees w’en
Is gona com’ da spreeng agen.

Wan day, wan brighta sunny day,
He see across da alleyway,
Da leetla girl dat’s liven’ dere
Ees raise her window for da air,
And put outside a leetla pot
of w’at you call?-forget-me-not.

So smalla flower, so leetla theeng!
But steel eet mak’ hees hearta seeng.
“Oh, now, at las’,ees com’ da spreeng!
Da leetla plant ees glad for know,

Da sun ees com’ for mak’ eet grow.
So too, I am grow warm and strong.
So lika dat he seeng hees song.

But, ah, da night com’ down an den,
Da winter ees sneak back agen,
An in da alley, all da night
Eees fall da snow, so cold, so white.

An’ cover up da leetla pot
Of w’at you call ? for-get-me-not.
All night da leetla hand I hold.

Eees grow so cold, so cold, so cold !
Da spreeng ees come, but oh, da joy,
Eet ees too late!
He was so cold, my leetla boy,
He no could wait.

by Thomas Augustine Daly

Thomas Augustine Daly was an Irish-American poet who is more commonly referred to as T A Daly. He was a very popular writer, mainly poetry, but he had many articles published in newspapers and magazines. He also made a good living on the lecturing and after-dinner speaking circuit where he would often recite his own poetry to appreciative audiences. His style was mostly humorous and he wrote in a curious mixture of mock Italian-American and Irish-American dialect.

Read More: https://mypoeticside.com/poets/thomas-augustine-daly-poems

 My mom read this often to my brothers and me and every time it made me cry.  The image and poem was in this book

The New Wonder World 1939 ~ The Child In The Home

My Paintings

The First Robin

Welcome, welcome, little stranger,
    Fear no harm, and fear no danger;
We are glad to see you here,
    For you sing, “Sweet Spring is near.”

Now the white snow melts away;
    Now the flowers blossom gay:
Come, dear bird, and build your nest,
    For we love our robin best.

Poem by Louisa May Alcott

Louisa May Alcott was one of four daughters born to Bronson and May Alcott. Louisa worked from an early age to help with expenses. She worked as a governess, a seamstress, a laundress, and a nurse but, at heart, she was always a writer. Her first book was published at the age of 23. Louisa’s best known work is Little Women, which has never been out of print since it was first published in 1868; it has been translated into more than fifty languages.

Beautiful Painting by

Proud Vigil American Robin with Baby Birds

I painted this portrait of an American Robin perched on her intricately woven nest, filled with her baby birds. I posed the mamma bird so her… more\

by Cindy Day

google.com

Poems

Spring

Spring!

There is no time like Spring,
When life’s alive in everything,
Before new nestlings sing,
Before cleft swallows speed their journey back
Along the trackless track –
God guides their wing,
He spreads their table that they nothing lack, –
Before the daisy grows a common flower
Before the sun has power
To scorch the world up in his noontide hour…

by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Christina Georgina Rossetti was an English writer of romantic, devotional and children’s poems, including “Goblin Market” and “Remember”. Wikipedia

Born: December 5, 1830London, United Kingdom

Died: December 29, 1894Torrington Square

Garden Image:wayfair.com

Susan Rios Hollyhock House by Susan Rios – Print on Canvas

Poems

Spring Will Be Soon

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.


The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:


For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

My Poems

Open The Window

Open windows, clear out winters graying dust,

Let in Spring, green fresh air is a must.

Breezes blowing the curtains to a happy sound,

White picket fences stroll along the ground.

Shaded houses under big old oak trees,

Life is good, thank Jehovah on bended knees.

by Eileen Clark

Image:Found on Pinterest

My Poems

I’m Waiting For Spring


I’m waiting for Spring and other nice things,
Aren’t you?
I’m waiting for warmer weather,

I’m waiting for little things with feathers.
Aren’t you?
I’m waiting for those pretty little spotted eggs,
For those little creatures with tiny stick legs,

Aren’t you?
Said the snake that slithers and begs

Author Eileen Clark

Image: https://theverybesttop10.com/unusual-animals-inside

My Paintings · My Poems ~ Others poems

Front Porch

http://coffeeandpoems.com:

 

From My Porch

After the end of a long hot day
At the end of my rope -  with nerves all frayed
I sat on the porch…to rest a spell
As the sun slipped… slowly behind the hill

Calmed…by the lingering…after glow
I watched…the summer night unfold

Crimson streaks…on a sky of blue
Melted…in a thousand…different hues
Got lost…in the dark…without the light
Leaving…just their shadows…in the night

And in fields…of clover…across the way
The crickets…began…their serenade
As fireflies danced…with sheer delight
Glowing…in  love…with this summer night

And there…ahead…at the end of the road
Above the bridge…where the river flows
It rose - like magic - before my eyes
An orange moon… so big…it filled the sky

Poem by ~Elaine George

Painting by ~ Eileen Clark ( Watercolor)

http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems/best/porch

 

The Best of Elaine George

http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poems_by_poet.aspx?ID=3315

 

My Paintings · My Poems ~ Others poems

March Poetry

 

Image result for spring patios

The afternoon is bright,
with spring in the air,
a mild March afternoon,
with the breath of April stirring,
I am alone in the quiet patio
looking for some old untried illusion –
some shadow on the whiteness of the wall
some memory asleep
on the stone rim of the fountain,
perhaps in the air
the light swish of some trailing gown.
 Antonio Machado

http://www.digsdigs.com/20-bright-spring-terrace-and-patio-decor-ideas/

Image result for cloud over mountain

The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March.

Robert Frost

March bustles in on windy feet
And sweeps my doorstep and my street.
She washes and cleans with pounding rains,
Scrubbing the earth of winter stains.
She shakes the grime from carpet green
Till naught but fresh new blades are seen.
Then, house in order, all neat as a pin,
She ushers gentle springtime in.
Susan Reiner

 

The March wind roars
Like a lion in the sky,
And makes us shiver
As he passes by.
When winds are soft,
And the days are warm and clear,
Just like a gentle lamb,
Then spring is here.
Author Unknown

http://www.ebay.com/gds/How-to-Install-Outdoor-Fountains-/10000000178825037/g.html
http://www.youngsphotogallery.com/Clouds.html
http://www.schoolrecycling.net/news/school-news-you-can-use/school-news-you-can-use-march-2015/
https://www.google.com/searchq=march&safe=active&rlz=1C1CHFX_enUS601US601&espv=2&biw=1366&bih=6
My Poems ~ Others poems · Poetry

Spring in New Hampshire

simply-beautiful-world:

❥‿↗⁀simply-beautiful-world
agoodthinghappened:

From imgfave.com

TOO GREEN THE SPRINGING APRIL GRASS, 
TOO BLUE THE SILVER-SPECKLED SKY, 
FOR ME TO LINGER HERE, ALAS, 
WHILE HAPPY WINDS GO LAUGHING BY, 
WASTING THE GOLDEN HOURS INDOORS, 
WASHING WINDOWS AND SCRUBBING FLOORS. 
TOO WONDERFUL THE APRIL NIGHT, 
TOO FAINTLY SWEET THE FIRST MAY FLOWERS, 
THE STARS TOO GLORIOUSLY BRIGHT, 
FOR ME TO SPEND THE EVENING HOURS, 
WHEN FIELDS ARE FRESH AND STREAMS ARE LEAPING, 
WEARIED, EXHAUSTED, DULLY SLEEPING.
Claude McKay – 1889-1948
Claude McKay
Claude McKay, who was born in Jamaica in 1889, wrote about social and political concerns from his perspective as a black man in the United States, as well as a variety of subjects ranging from his Jamaican homeland to romantic love.

image-Found on divinespirit3.tumblr.com

Art & Artest · My Poems ~ Others poems

While yet we wait for spring

2-21-2011 10;03;21 AM

While yet we wait for spring

While yet we wait for spring, and from the dry
And blackening east that so embitters March,
Well-housed must watch grey fields and meadows parch,
And driven dust and withering snowflake fly;
Already in glimpses of the tarnish’d sky
The sun is warm and beckons to the larch,
And where the covert hazels interarch
Their tassell’d twigs, fair beds of primrose lie.
Beneath the crisp and wintry carpet hid
A million buds but stay their blossoming;
And trustful birds have built their nests amid
The shuddering boughs, and only wait to sing
Till one soft shower from the south shall bid,
And hither tempt the pilgrim steps of spring.

Robert Seymour Bridges

(1844 – 1930) was a British poet.