Arizona's forest fires are not waiting for April, and neither will we. That is why I am pushing for stepped up deployment for Hot Shot wildfire crews in March rather than April, in order to better prepare for the expected fires in northern Arizona.
quote by Rick Renzi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Is that spring going to come?
When March was sleeping, two other
Gentlemen began rather
A heated argument. The 1st
Was April, the 2nd, of course,
Was May. So, April and May
Were both crying that the main
Month of spring was… Guess which one, but
Although March was in the hut
(Number 2, there’re four huts all
In all) , you should choose April or
May. April said, “It’s my time when
Snow-drops begin to bloom, and
Everyone can feel spring’s come.”
“Ha-ha! ” laughed May and added, “Some
Snowstorm, and no one can
See your tiny snow-drops. When
I rule nature, all the trees are
In blossom and bushes too! ”
“But
Unless I melted snow, they
Couldn’t blossom, my brother May, ”
April objected.
“Unless I…
Wow! You can melt snow, guy!
So, it isn’t the sun that
Does it! ” mocked May.
“I can laugh at
Your conceit, May. For example, March thinks
You and June are as like as two peas, ”
April said.
“ I don’t care, ”
May replied, “A brown bear
Sleeps less than this sleepyhead! ”
“Are
You about my best friend March? ”
Somebody cried outside, and
February came in. “Well, when
Is he gonna wake up? ” he said.
“Answer one question, and we’ll let
You wake him up, ” April and May
Stopped February on his way
To March’s bed, “Which of us is
The main spring month? Feb, tell us, please! ”
“What a question! No doubt,
It’s March. Until he gets out
With me, spring won’t begin, and
Winter will continue more than
Ninety days. But I’m not gonna
Work any longer. I wanna
Enjoy my holiday. Now
Let me wake him. Oh! How
Long I’ve been waiting for it! ” cried
February, but at the sight
Of their faces he laughed, “What’s
Happened? Ha-ha! You think it was
A bad idea to ask me,
Don’t you? ”
“We’ll never agree
With you! ! ! First of all March is your
Friend! ” April waxed indignant.
“First? ”
February smiled, “And what else?
Time’s flying! ”
“Nobody says
You and March differ too much! ”
It was May, “And… And there is such
A thing as politeness, if you
Talk with a host! ”
“If I should
Forget about March because
He’s sleeping, I can’t. Well, I’ve lost
My patience! If you wanna be
The main, you can be, but let me
Wake March as it isn’t a leap
Year now! My time’s up! Keep
On arguing but without
Us as we’re getting out! ”
February caught his sleepy friend,
Then said, “Bye-bye! ” and out he went.
poem by Konstantin Ananin
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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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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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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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April Fool
The month of MaRcH,
Will soon pass thru the ArCh;
And then sunny ApRiL will be BoRn.
The very first day of ApRiL FoOl,
Innocent pranks are a very viable ToOl,
That colour the day till dusk, from MoRn.
One must be agreeable and GaMe,
To be painted as a duck LaMe,
Have lots of fun of April Fool's Day;
Resist from spoiling the FuN,
Abet in the merriment under the SuN,
To indulge in tomfoolery at times, is just OkAy.
poem by Pervyyn Kavarana
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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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April Notes
O April!
You are the cruelest of
all months!
You know April,
love is a silent killer!
Comes like a sniper,
fires cannonballs into
silent hearts!
Changes them like
erupt volcanoes!
Transforms
every mind,
every moment cancerous
which multiply in
unknown progressions,
chain reactions
and I am sinking like Titanic!
O April!
Please don't torment me
with your flowers yellow,
stop your big bangs!
Kiss my soul
with your warm lips
and let it be one among
your everlasting flowers!
10.04.98
poem by Premji Premji
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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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Modern Love XXXV (Manhattan's white flowers)
I always saw these
beautiful white flowers
blossoming in March,
as I walked the streets
of east Manhattan in my
garden. I strolled
from 77th to 92nd street
and Madison to 3rd avenue
This year, for some
reason it will be
in April,
This year, for some
reason it will be
in April, say the
tiny chickadees.
So, during this winter
let us meet during a storm
and after sitting
and observing
let us go down
to the wall street market
and see if we may sell
the snow we carry
on our hats and coats.
I always saw these
beautiful white flowers
blossoming in March.
This year it will be
in April, the tiny
chickadees remind us.
Ah, Federico, one must still
have strong legs to walk
by the butcher shop of the world.
poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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April May June Duly Appear August
Another day spins round, another moon
Plies silver gossamer surprise profound.
Rebounding droplets of spaced spring too soon
In Lethe's stream eternity resound.
Life drips despondently, some say, tear drowned.
As April breasts Spring's crest, as lovers spoon,
Perceive leaf, bud and bowls' rich garb fresh found,
Rainbow bridge 'twixt mad March, warm May, June.
Imagination's tendrils intertwine,
Leap out from Winter's protective cocoon,
And span star-spangled sky, lands fertilize,
PRepare the ground for future harvest wine.
..If Truth be Beauty, April offers boon,
..Links seasons' sparkle, Life reflects, replies.
(c) Jonathan Robin acrostic sonnet APRIL written 13 April 2008 - see To Tint Mad March with Tenderness of June
poem by Jonathan Robin
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April
April is eternal spring.
She sows the mirth for everything.
Her smiling sun and soothing showers
Create May’s ebullient flowers.
April assuages winter’s noose,
As snow and cold call annual truce.
Warmth and laughter then fill the air,
Replacing a somber season’s stare.
The year without April’s place,
Indeed would be a sterile space.
So thank you April for being here.
Your presence assures a happy year.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Lady April
This day…awoke April
In a terrible mood
If months had bad hair days
Then this one certainly could
This day dawned early
With cold and grouchy demeanor
Obviously having awakened
On the wrong side of her bed
With un-April like winds
That sliced like a knife
And had all the bad manners
Of moody March instead
I like to ascribe to the months
Their own personalities and ways
From the surreal colors of September
To the mild, merry manners of May
But I also respect, and know when to stay
Inside, cozy, warm
and totally out of her way
When lady April is having a bad ‘air day'
I know that the morrow will likely dawn warm and showery
She'll dawn with a yawn and ne'er admit
That she's e'en the slightest bit sorry
April's snits, as you know, ne'er last very long
She beckons us out to warm breezes
To tease us, (and a few sneezes maybe)
And just like the lady she is, and pleases to be
Will never admit she was wrong
poem by David Whalen
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