"sᴘʀɪɴɢ" | ᴀ ᴘᴏᴇᴍ Hello! This is my entry for the CWYP's (Creative writing/young poets studio's) Spring Poem contest. The deadline is today (May 5th); I hope this isn't too late! xP I had so much fun writing this poem; I'm happy with how it turned out. I'm by no means an expert; I'd love to improve my poetry skills, so constructive critisim is welcome and apreciated! Even if I don't win, writing this poem was an awesome experience and was definitley worth it. On a random side note, I'm still getting used to formatting text in Scratch, so that's why the formatting is inconsistant (exept for in some cases when I use it for dramatic effect, lol). Controls: ~Space or click to advance ~If you're having trouble reading the text with the background, pressing the "s" key will change the background to solid black. (Pressing the "t" key will change the backround to the tulip picture it originally was). Trigger warning for mentions of death and depression in this poem! Please don't read if those will trigger you and/or make you uncomfortable in any way. (It's not really dark, but some people are sensitive to those kind of things ((which is totally valid and makes sense!)) so it's worth mentioning).
edit: reshared because,, I don't know why I unshared this in the first place lol The poem was written by me. The tulip picture in the background was also taken by me. Please don't steal either! ғᴜʟʟ ᴘᴏᴇᴍ: Spring comes The trees perk up The flowers sprout The snow melts Away They salute They embrace The changing of the weather Warmer and warmer Wetter and wetter Spring comes Spring Comes She crouches by her windowsill The light dancing across her hair She sees the blooming flowers Opens the door Tiptoes outside She sees a squirrel Running across the lawn She shouts with the joy of spring returning But no one is there to hear It’s been two weeks now Midway through spring. The animals are gathering Eating and sleeping And have all woken up The flowers? They’ve bloomed Their petals bright But soon, but soon, They’ll wilt The girl, she keeps visiting the squirrel Her only friend The girl, she keeps calling for someone, anyone She can’t remember her name The days blur together As do the nights It seems like every other spring This spring, she does not want to let that happen, Losing grasp on the season, Letting the months trickle through her fingers This spring, she goes outside one night The stars are smiling in the sky. She looks for the squirrel, Her only friend She wants to be with him for longer today His babies are coming, she knows His mate is pregnant It should be any day now She searches, she looks, through the old leaves The ones left over from fall. She searches, she looks, through the puddles Made of melted snow The ones left over from winter She searches, she looks, through the grass, Some blades still green from summer. She searches, she looks, through the flowerbed, Some flowers left over from-- But, splayed across the tulips, eyes open There, she finds the squirrel dead. Last spring, Last spring, What happened last spring? It seems like this has happened before, She stumbles, she wails, all through the garden, For her friend, her now dead friend But also for her Because she feels the squirrel has died before. Last spring, last spring What a mystery it was Last spring was a spring of loss She cries out now, hoping someone would hear, But not even the squirrel does, this time. Last spring, she remembered her name. Last spring, she knew who she was. Last spring, she had a family. A mom. Where have they gone? She’s sitting down in the grass now, her head in her hands. She’s shaking, she’s crying. And she’s lost. The squirrel-- he has died. Why does this spring seem so much like the last? But she knows now. She remembers. Last spring, she was happy Not worried about spring slipping away Last spring, there were people in the world And colors, too Not the plain, endless blue, like it is now Last spring, she had a mother Not an imaginary one, not a dead one, But a living, breathing, mother. One that had given her her name. One that gave her world color And, like the squirrel, she had been lying in her own tulips that year With her eyes open Staring at the sky. That was when The world became blue. That was when she lost her name. That was when she became Alone. Still, though she would do anything in the world to make it stop, Spring goes on. She visits her mother’s grave later She doesn’t know how much time has passed Spring has slipped through her fingers again Like the time before. She lays tulips near the tombstone And digs a small hole near it, too That morning, she buries the squirrel Kissing his still body That morning She says goodbye For now To the squirrel, her only friend this spring, To her mother, her only friend always. She doesn’t understand why they had to go She doesn’t understand why they aren’t still here But she can’t do anything She can’t make them come back She can’t keep shutting people out She can’t make her life Spring. That morning, color comes back to the tulips, A brilliant orange and yellow. Though the rest of the world is the same blue, And the voices she didn’t know were there are still muffled, It’s better than nothing. That morning, the last flower wilts, New fruit replacing it That morning, the squirrel’s mate’s babies turn old enough to go out on their own, They leave the drey with silent goodbyes. That morning, the sun shines down, Bright and warmer than usual. That morning, summer comes That morning, things are looking a little bit better, And though it seemed so short, That morning, spring is gone. ❀
