Poems by Ann D. Stevenson

There's a hum from the bees in the air
which stirs up gentle musings in my mind,
scented blossom is making me aware
of certain hidden treasure they may find.

There's a stir in the branches of the trees
it reflects quiet awakenings of my own,
leaves unfurl in a warm and gentle breeze
they stretch out until they become full-blown.

There's music in the garden from the birds,
cheerful sounds that make my spirits glow,
is this a calling that the flowers have heard
a time to bloom, to blossom and to grow.

There's joy in new beginnings, a fresh start,
it grows deep inside and lifts up my heart.

Christmas here once more,
hard to ignore, festive
wreaths on every door.

Housed inside is needled
pine, bright baubles shine
with tiny twinkling lights.

Trees glow, festive music
flows, lifts up hearts, baking
starts, excitement grows.

Little sticky fingers help frost
white icing on the cake, set mini
figures among the snowy peaks.

Traditional food abounds,
turkey with all its trimmings,
a flame-lit Christmas pudding.

Snaps of bursting crackers,
scattered paper hats and jokes,
sounds of popping corks.

Glasses brimmed with bubbles
of good cheer - that's how it is
for some - at this time of year.

Homely aromas
of freshly baked bread.
Scents of the garden
infused in my head.

Wiffs of the sea
whilst walking the beach.
Sniffs of freshness
from an apple or peach.

The essence of a baby
breathed in from its skin.
And my love, ah my love,
I love breathing you in.

Once I glimpsed another world,
gilded streams of light unfurled,
incandescent trails of wonder
blew my present world asunder.

A gold ethereal sphere above,
a transcendental world of love,
beckoned me, called me to stay,
so close, but I was drawn away.

A tug of human hearts and hands
brought me back to known lands,
perpetual memories in my mind,
another world so nearly mine.

I see your star, it's shining bright
amongst the others of the night,
a sight so blessed, as by my eye
your soul now rests in symmetry.

How I love the night time skies,
such magic drifts before my eyes,
these are the times when I aspire
to write what sets my heart on fire.

To write in rhyme my chosen art,
words all coming from my heart,
like my heart they need a beat,
metric poems in measured feet.

Words start forming in a chain,
tumbling round within my brain,
about the love I tried to grasp,
the love no longer in my clasp.

Grief attacks with many spears,
piercing holes for leaking tears,
but gazing at night skies I see
the one lone star I think is thee.

I see your star, still shining bright
amongst the others of the night,
a sight so blessed, as by my eye
your soul now rests in symmetry.