Forsythia I and II

When the air starts to warm each spring, the grass greens, bulbs start pushing new green shoots up through the lawn, and blossoms appear, I get the irresistible urge to write poetry. Some funny. Some maybe good. Most unbelievably sentimental trash, I’m sure. This year, the humor won. Read on if you dare . . .

Forsythia I

The forsythia
and that other bush
(the one I don't like, with the thorns)
come into spring like clowns
done up profusely in their garish yellow and hot pink
like someone who talks too loud
or whose lipstick is a little too bright
(and maybe smeared a little)

Give me the subtle beauty of the peach blossom
ethereal, translucent pink flowers
scattered conservatively along a branch
arching just so
against a backdrop of wet-dark bare trees
and newly-green grass
with a promise of summer sweetness

Forsythia II

I am sorry, Forsythia,
that I called you garish

immediately it was written, I felt dreadful

The truth is
sometimes you do come across as too bright
and, honestly, you could stand to lose a size or two


There is another truth
which is that in the last gasps of winter
before the grass has even greened
when I think I can't bear to slog through many more damp, cold days

the sight of your tenderly unfolding baby leaves
and tight nascent blooms
makes my heart swell and burst from happiness
and I want to throw my arms around your great girth and just squeeze you for joy

your gift is being first
being eternally optimistic,
brashly heralding the great advent of spring among all the naysayers

Even you, other bush--
flaunting your eyesore of a hot pink dress
with your thorns
that make angry red welts on my arms
and your never-ending invasion of the lawn in all directions
and . . (I could go on)

--even you bring me
a moment or two each year
of spring-anticipation bliss
your blossomed arms clustered in a vase with wild forsythia branches
a true gift for my color-starved eyes

So, both of you,
please accept my apology
I spoke too harshly
let us be friends


Do you have any swelling, funny, or just plain awful spring poetry to share with us? E-mail your submissions (to, and I’d love to post them!

with love (& a laugh), Anita

3 thoughts on “Forsythia I and II

  1. Laughing! I’m more in the “love forsythia” camp. After the first long, long winter I spent in Illinois, the sight of a forsythia in bloom brought tears of joy and relief to my eyes.

    Liked by 1 person

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