The story behind the picture...
I remember in the dark depths of winter - on the shortest day of the year (when it seemed to get dark at 3pm!) counting down the days until spring... And we're finally here! 💪🏼💪🏼
Happy spring people - bring on the colour!
It's World Poetry Day. 🌞Do you like poetry? Do you read poems with your students? One of the poets I admire is Josie Whitehead, a lovely lady from Yorkshire, UK, whose poems can be read for free on her website- Josie's poems.🙂 Her beautiful art is often featured in my e-zine INSPIRATIONAL ENGLISH and she's written a new poem about MOTIVATION especially for the new issue. Hurray!
Since it's spring now ...🌷🌞🌷Even though I don't think it feels like it over here in southern England, 🤔I wanted to share one of her season poems. It's called SPRING PEEPED THROUGH THE DAFFODILS and this is what I can see over here... lots of daffodils in the parks, which remind me that warmer days are coming up. 🙂
Spring peeped through the daffodils,
And, as quietly as a mouse,
She crept with stealth across the path
That runs beside your house.
The sunlight of the afternoon
Had disappeared too soon,
And it wasn’t long before she saw
The bright face of the moon.
The winter wind swept round her face
And chilled her where she stood,
So Spring did up her woolly coat
And pulled up her warm hood.
The snowflakes fluttered from the sky
And the cold wind blew the trees,
The birds were huddled in their hedge
And the grass began to freeze.
Old Winter came upon the scene
And spotted Spring, of course.
He said: ‘Why are you in my world?’ And he blew cold wind, with force. ‘Your time is up,’ Spring said to him: ‘The daffodils are here,
And it’s time for me to warm this world
And for you to disappear.’ By Josie Whitehead
So what has spring brought in your deck of the woods?
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.