PT (Born 6th of August 1989 / Essex, England)

Zest

Tuneful, cheerful, habitats of spring
All the new life and nursery that they bring
Blue tits that scramble, dance, and sing
Winter, a distant, reminiscent sting
Summer to look to, a soft breeze cuddling
The warmth to ones chest, a mating bird’s muddling
The fresh bright colours of his breast
When later months provide a test
All cooped up inside a nest
But later for that, we feel life’s zest
Harsher seasons, little more than a pest
A ‘pecker chisels his brand new den
The sigh of green leaves, a calling moorhen
Softest white rose of new bloom
The thorns below, predict a inevitable doom
For all thats living, must see its final noon
And it all comes round much too soon
But is this not the zest of life?
To know its over? When we draw our last breath?
People draw other pictures of afterlife and death
Yet it’s all just one big circle
No Winter, Spring detest

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Comments (1)

Hi Patrick, Excellent poem, You are a great writer. I really like this poem, It has good imagery and great expressions. Take care. You are very talented Patrick.