At the end of April I archived 'Curses' and Inform, and announced them on the newsgroups.
quote by Graham Nelson
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April, Dear April
April, dear April, I beg you come soon –
And bring your sweet primroses too.
Let them join in with the daffodils’ play,
As skies offer sunshine anew.
April, dear April, my blessed spring child,
Ornate in your yellow and white,
Teasing the birds into trilling their songs
And dancing to music of flight.
April, dear April, come enter my dreams
And rid me from cold winter chills.
Banish the rain and those blustery winds
And warm up our countryside hills.
April, dear April, I know you can’t stay -
You have to move on ‘till next year.
And though I shall cherish the glory of summer,
You’ll always be my month most dear.
From: Succumbed to Thinking by Mark Raymond Slaughter, lulu.com
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved
April April April April
April April April April
April April April April
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The time has mainly gone on getting Inform into a decent shape for public use. I suppose the plot of 'Curses' makes a sequel conceivable when compared with, say, the plot of 'Hamlet' but none is planned.
quote by Graham Nelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home Thoughts from Abroad
April in England–daffodils are growing
By every wayside, golden, tall and fair;
April–and all the little winds are blowing
The scents of springtime through the sunny air.
April in England–God, that we were there!
April in England–and her sons are lying
On these red fields, and dreaming of her shore;
April–we hear the thrushes' songs replying
Each unto each, above the cannons' roar;
April in England–shall we see it more?
April in England–there's the cuckoo calling
Down in her meadows where the cowslip gleams;
April–and little showers are softly falling,
Dimpling the surface of her babbling streams;
April in England–how the shrapnel screams!
April in England–blood and dust and smother,
Screaming of horses, men in agony.
April–full many of thy sons, O Mother,
Never again those dewy dawns shall see.
April in England–God, keep England free!
poem by Norah M. Holland
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Always Marry An April Girl
Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true --
I love April, I love you.
poem by Ogden Nash
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Young William And Young April
Young William and young April
Met in the park one day.
Young William said to April,
'Why did you come this way? '
Young April said to William,
'I thought I might see you.'
Young William, then to April,
'It's funny, what you do.'
Young April gave to William
A sweet, young childhood kiss.
Young William said to April,
'Don't bother me like this.'
Young April stood in silence,
Not knowing what to do.
Then young William turned away.
Young April, torn in two.
Young William said, 'Don't follow me.'
Away from her he fled.
April then, sat down and cried,
And wished that she was dead.
William never came again.
At least, for many years.
Fearful that young April still,
Might be there shedding tears.
William walked the park again.
It seemed just like before.
Wondering if he might see her.
Young April, there once more.
Young William never noticed.
The roses hid it well.
The place they found Young April.
The place she used to dwell.
poem by Greenwolfe 1962
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On that road of the informer, it is always night. I cannot ever inform against anyone without feeling something die within me. I inform without pleasure, because it is necessary.
quote by Whittaker Chambers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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APRIL and a FOOL
APRIL and a FOOL
April’s Fool day
Preceded her
April Fool’s day
by just one “fool”;
ME
That day before
I had a Life,
the next day
I had a wife;
SHE.
As April’s Fool
on April One
I said we do
and thus began
the fun.
Smiling impatiently
The Fools of April One,
‘SHE’ and ‘ME’
Became a
‘WE’ …
April Fool …
I’m single still!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rhey W. Hedges, April 1,2007
poem by Rhey W. Hedges
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My True Talent
Let me put this in perspective for you.
Are you ready?
This journey began in 1952.
I was 5
When I announced I needed to take lessons,
To pursue my ambitions.
There was no 'stage mother'.
No overindulgent father.
There were gifts given to me by God.
And I knew it!
Just like I do today.
Does that clarify my arrogance for you?
Either way...
I still feel obligated with a patience,
To continue to tolerate your ignorance.
And 'that' is my true talent!
A blessing that curses and irritates me both.
But God knows where I would be...
Without Him, Her or IT and patience.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Rock Your Boat
A message to all the men that used you,
A message to the rooms that saw your nakedness,
Rock your boat to rub my tights;
But the flood is about to come in as announced.
Lusty frames,
Over the faces of love in the land of no return!
And like the stages of your emotions in the land of your muse,
But the flood is about to come in as announced.
Within the spread out legs and the muse of love,
Remembering all the passengers through your red sea;
And to ride faster enough to see your smile!
But the flood is about to come in as announced.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Struck At The Core
You hurt and so are angry
For I have thus struck at the core
I can read your life like poetry
And can the trace the roots of the sore.
Your childhood days reflect the source
Of your curses and your words today
And your heart is controlled by an evil force
Led your tongue and your speech astray.
The anger there reacts when naked
Exposed of the tendrils that had it bound
Releasing pangs of language wicked
Curses, profanity where it abounds.
Unless that past of bitterness healed
The tongue will never speak what's right
And only in humble surrender must yield
To focus on God and follow all sight.
Cop yright Cynthia Buhain Baello
April 1,2010
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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April's Away.
All too soon the countryside,
Now fresh greened and sprouting more
Than spring, looks out for wider
Room, shakes it's newborn blossoms
Then ushers April to the door.
And April's away.
No longer teenage, Flora's
Grown maturer now, slightly
Deeper hued, flowers adorning
Every late spring bough, while
April, already pale, turns white,
Then April's away.
Heated by more ardent sun,
Hedgerows must have stronger feed.
Palid from work early done
April leaves, - makes way for May
To ensure Flora has her needs
Now April's away.
I'm April the seventh
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with drops of rain beating my heart away
with drops of wine dried in my mouth
and tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
sitting in the dark room
after a head over heal night
and the tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
I'm April the seventh
Lazarus's Saturday and children's bells
all tinkling across my street
all tinkling across my heart
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a scarf around my neck
and high heels on my feet
and the tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a book I'm about to read
a cigarette I am about to smoke
and the tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
I'm April the seventh
Lazarus's Saturday and children's bells
all tinkling across my street
all tinkling across my heart
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a kiss left on my left hand
feet shuffling all along the floor
and the tango I've just danced
all tinkling across my heart
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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April Again
April again! the willow wands are yellow
Rose-red the brambles that the passing wind knows,
Comes a robin's note like the note of a 'cello,
And across the valley, the calling of the crows,-
'April again!'
April again! and the marsh birds swinging
Over the rushes that belong to yester-year;
Silver shines the river, and young lips are singing
Songs as old as Eden-as old and as dear;
'April again!'
April again! with a wet wind blowing,
And along the western sky a pathway of gold;
Sounds a call to follow the road we're not knowing,
A new road-a wild road-o'er fairy lands unrolled,-
'April again!'
April again! with its wonder of gladness,
April with its haunting joy, and swift-stinging tears,-
Month of mist and music, and the old moon-madness,
Month of magic fluting, the spirit only hears,-
'April again!'
poem by Virna Sheard
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Lost April
(newman/spencer/delange)
Lost april,
Where did you go?
Like winter's snow,
I saw you vanish.
Lost april,
So soft and warm.
A memory
Not even time can banish.
Lost april,
That taught me this.
A single kiss
Could lead to heaven.
But april had numbered days,
So when they passed,
Love couldn't last.
I lost love and you,
And april, too.
~interlude~
So when they passed,
Love couldn't last.
I lost love and you,
And april, too.
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Curses
Curses may belittle the mailing of thoughts
That are derived by the eye of intelligence.
Curses made munching a task by the wrong spider,
A slave-animal hasn’t got too many fleas.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Portrait Of Jennie
Lost April
Where did you go?
Like winter's snow
I saw you vanish
Lost April
so soft and warm
a memory not even time can vanish
Lost April
that taught me this
a single kiss
could lead to heaven
but April had numbered days
so when they passed
love couldn't last
I lost love and you and April too.
strings
so when they passed
love couldn't last
I lost love and you and April too.
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When April Comes!
When April comes with softly shining eyes,
And daffodils bound in her wind-blown hair,
Oh, she will coax all clouds from out the skies,
And every day will bring some sweet surprise,--
The swallows will come swinging through the air
When April comes!
When April comes with tender smile and tear,
Dear dandelions will gild the common ways,
And at the break of morning we will hear
The piping of the robins crystal clear--
While bobolinks will whistle through the days,
When April comes!
When April comes, the world so wise and old,
Will half forget that it is worn and grey;
Winter will seem but as a tale long told--
Its bitter winds with all its frost and cold
Will be the by-gone things of yesterday,
When April comes!
poem by Virna Sheard
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April 2031
They say the sky used to be blue
I don't quite believe it.
It's probably always been
the color that it is.
And there were cotton candy clouds.
And birds to fly through it.
Just stories we all love to tell our kids.
So I'll close my electronic door
And keep the cold outside.
And hug my aluminium pillow so tight.
And pray the radiation
doesn't make me sick tonight.
No more sky and no more trees.
April 2031
No more oxygen to breathe.
April 2031
No more hate and no more war.
April 2031
Nothing left worth fighting for.
April 2031.
They say there used to be a wind
that wasn't caused by fans
I wonder how it would have felt in my hair
And the nuclear ring
around the moon was caused by man
if it was, then it's much too late to care
So I'll put my safety goggles on
and gaze out at the sun
as the artificial atmostphere machines
give off a constant hum
in a world that's cold and peaceful, april 2031
No more sky and no more trees.
April 2031
No more oxygen to breathe.
April 2031
No more hate and no more war.
April 2031
Nothing left worth fighting for.
April 2031.
As far back as Veitnam,
we should have learned our lesson.
But we closed our eyes
and sent our sons away.
And they told us we were winning
as they sold more ammunition.
Some were angry,
most just looked the other way.
And the night's illuminated
by the endless glowing sand
that swallowed all the oceans
and choked off all the land.
In a world beyond resuscitation
Even by God's hand
No more mountains no more sea
April 2031
No more you and no more me
April 2031
No more music no more songs
April 2031
No God left to blame it on
April 2031
No more children playing
April 2031
No more need for praying
April 2030 One
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring On April Avenue
When you dont need me anymore
You realise how much you need me
But I just need you if you not need me
Like the spring on april avenue
Words are wounds
And flowers fly
The smell of dew
Spring on april avenue
The electrification
Every leafs pleasure
Every lightbulb waiting underground
Every child rising through life
Because machines are statues...
Spring on april avenue
Theres no symphony
Just a storm in every eye
Snow in their minds...frozen souls
Spring on april avenue.
Theres too much blinding light
Too many wells, and the walls are coming closer
Too many hearts beating our life
But the heart beat for death not life
Like the spring on april avenue
Divorced...forced from heaven and hell...
Air and the earth...Im...Im...
On april avenue.
poem by Not A Dream Choice
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The Connaughtman Returning
There's a grey fog over Dublin of the curses,
It blinds my eyes, mavrone, and stops my breath;
And I travel slow that once could run the swiftest,
And I fear ere I meet Mauryeen I'll meet Death.
There's a grey fog over Dublin of the curses,
And a grey fog dogs my footsteps as they go,
And it's long and sore to tread, the road to Connaught.
Is it fault of brogues or feet I fare so slow?
There's a grey fog over Dublin of the curses,
But the Connaught wind will blow it from my way,
And a Connaught girl will kiss it from my memory,
If the Death that walks beside me will delay.
(There's a grey fog over Dublin of the curses,
And no wind comes to break its stillness deep;
And a Connaughtman lies on the road to Connaught,
And Mauryeen will not kiss him from his sleep-Ululu!)
poem by Nora Jane Hopper Chesson
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