Vigo County
Beyond the brown hill
Above the silent cedars,
Blackbirds flee the April rains.
poem by Etheridge Knight
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Related quotes
Soft Rains Of April
(mags/pal waaktaar)
The soft rains of april are over
The soft rains of april are over, over
Anybody home now
I am on the phone now, please...
The soft rains of april are over
The ferry across the water to dover, over
Anybody home now
I am on the phone, oh Id like to go back
Is it raining back home
Im so alone
Just got up today
And my thoughts are miles away
With you
Well, they gave me four years
Three more to go
Keep writing letters
Times passing so slow
The soft rains of april are over
The soft rains of april are over
Over....
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Patient's Lament
I missed the soft, gentle rains of April.
I did not hear the robin nestlings
Calling for their daily fare.
I did not see the early violets
Spring up from the woodland floor,
Nor see the graceful daffodils
Swaying gently in the breeze.
Where has April Gone?
Oh where has April gone?
poem by Mary M. Coughlin
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A Well-Worn Story
In April, in April,
My one love came along,
And I ran the slope of my high hill
To follow a thread of song.
His eyes were hard as porphyry
With looking on cruel lands;
His voice went slipping over me
Like terrible silver hands.
Together we trod the secret lane
And walked the muttering town.
I wore my heart like a wet, red stain
On the breast of a velvet gown.
In April, in April,
My love went whistling by,
And I stumbled here to my high hill
Along the way of a lie.
Now what should I do in this place
But sit and count the chimes,
And splash cold water on my face
And spoil a page with rhymes?
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Laughing Rose
If I were gusty April now,
How I would blow at laughing Rose;
I'd make her ribbons slip their knots,
And all her hair come loose.
If I were merry April now,
How I would pelt her cheeks with showers;
I'd make carnations, rich and warm,
Of her vermillion flowers.
Since she will laugh in April's face
No matter how he rains or blows --
Then O that I wild April were,
To play with laughing Rose.
poem by William Henry Davies
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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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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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Rain Song
I dont think about us much anymore
Frankly, the topic has become a bore
And you dont come up much in my conversation
I dont think about you on vacation
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
Thats when I remember
Thats when I remember
I remember you
I remember you
I dont think about you when Im sleeping
It doesnt even cross my dreamlike mind
I dont think I see your face through the curtains
Hell, I dont even miss you half the time
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
Thats when I remember
Thats when I remember
I remember you
I remember you
Im doing fine as long as you stay locked up
Inside a cloud of grey
Rain, rain
Rain, rain, rain
Rain, rain, rain
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
Thats when I remember
Thats when I remember
I remember you
I remember you
Well thats when I remember
The only time I remember
When I remember you
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rain Song
I don't think about us much anymore
Frankly, the topic has become a bore
And you don't come up much in my conversation
I don't think about you on vacation
But when it rains
When it rains, when it rains
That's when I remember
That's when I remember,
I remember you,I remember you
I don't think about you when I'm sleeping
It doesn't even cross my dreamlike mind
I don't think I see your face through the curtains
Hell, I don't even miss you half the time
But when it rains
When it rains, when it rains
That's when I remember
That's when I remember
I remember you,I remember you
Rain, rain, go away
I'm doing fine as long as you stayed locked up
Inside a cloud of grey
Rain, rain, rain...
But when it rains
When it rains, when it rains
That's when i remember
That's when I remember
I remember you, I remember you
Well, That's when I remember you
The only time I remember
When I remember you
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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April Far Away
On the mossy ditch along the old bohreen
Wildflowers in their thousands are now to be seen
Bluebells and primroses and snowdrops in white
Bloom after the rains in the warm Spring sunlight.
Dandelions, buttercups and daisies in April are never rare
In the lush green fields they are seen everywhere
And the pink breasted bullfinch singing on the alder tree
Amidst all the greenery quite easy to see.
The wild birds are nesting and all through the day
The leafy groves echo to their songs in April far away
And young lambs in the fields around their mothers play
Youth must have it's fling you hear people say.
The lark carols above the mountain and the clear flowing rill
It babbles it's way down the field by the hill
On to join the big stream along by the hedgerow
That flows to the big river that to the sea flow.
The crab tree wears her blossoms of light pink to gray
And far north of here in April far away
The fox cubs in the sunshine play outside their den
And in fancy I hear the loud song of the wren.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Poppy Brown and I
We've spent a lot of time together
Poppy Brown and I,
Sitting by the window-ledge
Staring at the sky;
Keeping silent vigil watching
Up and down the street,
Passing many moments, Listening for her feet.
We've spent a lot of time together
Poppy Brown and I,
Playing out the hours
Passing slowly by;
Keeping silent company,
Quiet as the moon,
Waiting for our loved one,
Hoping she'll come soon.
We've spent a lot of time together
Poppy Brown and I,
Loving at the window-ledge
Waiting by and by;
Keeping silent vigil,
Playing out the night,
Looking to each other,
A kiss and then a fight.
We've spent a lot of time together
Poppy Brown and I,
Waiting out the hours
Willing them to fly;
Keeping silent company,
Our mutual request:
The imminent arrival of
The one we love the best.
(Written 28th March 2006)
poem by John Carter Brown
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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 Spring
Morning waked to frosty fields
Coltsfoot faces
Smiled at me
From the edges of my road
In a sun filled afternoon
Winds blew as if March
Was yet in charge
The April rains and snows
Still dampen footprints
Fill wheel ruts, ditches
Send the crocus skyward
My neighbor told me of a panther
Running through my fields
Up the hill past my house
Screaming, screeching
Charging Tuesday’s calm dusk
A red fox leapt my west stone wall
Twenty feet in front of where I walked
Disappeared into the woods
Following her own course
Dismissing me to ponder mine
The creek runs clear again
The mud from the nor’easter’s
Wind and snow has raced away
Leaving only stones and ripples
April 11,1997
poem by Marjorie DeBol DeFazio
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Janine
JANINE
Joy's Janine, sovereign Queen,
is sitting unwittingly, caught between
time and timelessness, sans spleen.
Softness shines from silent scene
such as, had I true artist been,
from canvas onto online screen,
all might glimpse peerlessness serene.
She'd e'en cause pristine saints to dream
on paragon, fair figurine,
on team-theme evergreen.
13 April 1975 revised 23 April 2010
robi03_0078_robi03_0000 XXX_LOX
for previous version see below
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Janine
E’en
Janine
sov’reign Queen,
in beige, brown, green
in silence is seen
sitting. Such a soft scene
as, had I an artist been,
from palette to fair picturene
I would, I ween, cause e’en the saints to dream.
13 April 1975
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Singing Children
IN the streets of Bethlehem sang the children
So merry and so shrill,
'He shall have sweet cedars in his garden
And a house on Hermon Hill.
He shall have the king's daughter for his fellow,
A king's crown to bind upon his head.'
And with bracken buds and straw, brown and yellow,
Mary made His bed.
In the streets of Nazareth sang the children
So clearly and so sweet,
'He shall lead us to the spoiling of the nations,
He shall bruise them with his feet.
His standards shall outface the stars for number,
Red as field-lilies when the rains are done.'
And Mary heard them singing in her slumber.
And woke to kiss her Son.
In the streets of Jerusalem the children
Sang, passing to their play,
'The king's daughter waits in her apparel
All glorious as day.
We charge you, O ye watchmen, of your pity
Reveal us our belovéd, call his name.'
And the shadow of a cross beyond the city
Fell softly o'er their game.
In the ways of all the world sing the children,
'We know Him, we have named Him, He is ours,
Like leaves we have fluttered to His shadow,
He has gathered us as flowers.
And when the bud falls all too soon for blossom
And when the play has wearied of its charm,
He bears the tired lambs within His bosom
And the young lambs in His arm.'
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Im Only Happy When It Rains
Im only happy when it rains
Im only happy when its complicated
And though I know you cant appreciate it
Im only happy when it rains
You know I love it when the news is bad
And why it feels so good to feel so sad
Im only happy when it rains
Pour your misery down, pour your misery down on me
Pour your misery down, pour your misery down on me
Im only happy when it rains
I feel good when things are going wrong
I only listen to the sad, sad songs
Im only happy when it rains
I only smile in the dark
My only comfort is the night gone black
I didnt accidentally tell you that
Im only happy when it rains
Youll get the message by the time Im through
When I complain about me and you
Im only happy when it rains
Pour your misery down, pour your misery down
Pour your misery down on me pour your misery down
Pour your misery down pour your misery down
Pour your misery down on me pour your misery down
Pour your misery down pour your misery down
Pour your misery down on me pour your misery down
Pour your misery down
You can keep me company
As long as you dont care
Im only happy when it rains
You wanna hear about my new obsession?
Im riding high upon a deep depression
Im only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
Im only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
Im only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
Im only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
Im only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me ...
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of Our Own Bias And Prejudice
he is proud
to be brown all over
not raw
neither overcooked
arrogance does not
however
make him brown
as in hardcore
ideologist
for he too loves
the blackness of the night
the orangeness of the sunset
the redness of the rose
the whiteness of
glossy paper
he loves brown
because that is what he is made of
humanity in shades
of rainbow colors
this, too, he loves to see
when it rains
and when the sun shines
early morning
between two cliffs
with a waterfall between
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The Wide Brown Country
To the wide brown country the Seasons come and go
South in South Australia where the Murray flow
Through the wide brown country where the brown dust fly
When the gales are rushing down the southern sky.
In the wide brown country woods not there to see
Where the mighty Murray crawls on towards the sea
Through the bone dry paddocks that are never green
Mother Nature in this landscape in her brown only seen.
Where the black tribes fished and hunted centuries ago
Little of their culture others seem to know
Through the wide brown country they travelled far and wide
And theirs was a great culture but their culture with them died.
In the wide brown country wildering flowers are rare
And the sun parched paddocks always looking bare
And where only the hardiest can hope to survive
Emu, wombat and wallaby and grey roo seem to thrive.
In the wide brown country where the Murray flow
Onwards towards the ocean onwards ever slow
And the grass is growing brown even where the rains have been
In that brown old country that man has failed to green.
poem by Francis Duggan
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