April's Song
(with thanks to Sandra Fowler, for reminding me of the beautiful month of April)
I am the beginning
I am the start
I am the awakening
I am the spark
I am the seed
I am the urge
I am the promise
of rebirth
I am the journey
Without end
I am the circle
Once again
I am peace
After the storm
I am warmth
After the cold
I am the flower
Under the snow
I am the green
After the thaw
I am Spring
I am Hope
I am earth’s Eternal Song
Come April...
I'm coming back home
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
poem by Sonya Florentino
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Gray Music
You wrote your Yiddish signature in rain.
I could not match it in a thousand years.
Old words are classic to my memory.
Because of you, my feet have wings this day.
Gray music paints a picture of rare worth,
A Slavic image of an April mood,
Breaching the barrier of your last breath,
I should not wonder, Friend, you said it would.
'For a poet who was born in April and died in April'.
Copyright,2009, Sandra Fowler
poem by Sandra Fowler
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Coming Home April
Cold dark rain
Upon my face erase the tears
A biting wind whips
And blows away my fears
The lightning strikes
But I keep forging on
Cracking thunder seethes
But I don’t hear a sound
The shadows fall as
Darkness conquers everything
But I walk on and keep
Remembering
April’s song playing in my mind
Guided by a sliver of moonlight
Soon I know the moon will lose the fight
But April’s song will carry me
through the night
Or maybe not, the storm may take its toll
But I don’t care
To April I belong
poem by Sonya Florentino
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Cat Envy
I wish I were a cat
content and proud
At peace with the world
I wish I were as wise and see
There's more to life
than meets the eye
I wish I were a cat
who's seen it all
And knows exactly
how the big ball rolls
I wish I were a cat
(If I ever come back!)
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
poem by Sonya Florentino
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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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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
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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POEM FROM TITLES (Destroyer, Muse, Metaphor)
THE DESTROYER
Like life... the destroyer… he made me…absent…
knowing…at the finish… anything and everything…
from big to small…nothing…nothing is sacred...
what for why... the search…the connection...
small deaths...dead stars…mercy killing….
now or never...goodbye forever...the end...
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
MUSE
Enigma….
won derment…
you are….
gold….the prize…
my muse…..
beautiful….heartbeat….
Listen…
m agic happens…
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
METAPHOR
Day of empty…
lament in silence….
barely writing……notes for leaving…..
a living will…..
by the second line…
a sudden turn…a poem writes itself…
His life as a poem….
a lesson for living….
metaphor…
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
Note:
The poems above are made entirely from titles of my poems. I got the idea from the poem “Tying Up My Titles in a Titillating Way” by Shornjoe Crockpotter.
poem by Sonya Florentino
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Crybaby
Does the weather make me suffer more than anyone
Was a dark cloud assigned to hound me
Does the rain fall heaviest on where I stand
Is the sun's ire directed straight at me
Was the cold wind told I must be followed
Was the snowstorm summoned to bury me
Is the weather really cruel or am I just a
crybaby! : (
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
poem by Sonya Florentino
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Snow in April
If you must slight me, let it be the touch
That snow in April, falling soft and white
Gives to the blossoms delicate and light,
So I don’t suffer, it won’t harm me much.
If you must spite me, let it be as quick
As snow in April falling, not to last.
Lies just one moment then, like mist is past,
So it won’t sting me; I won’t feel the prick.
If you must fight me, let the tender blows
Like snow in April, make no lasting mark
As soft, spring sunshine, on the grassy park,
Brings green renewal. But yet April snows
Can still surprise me, stir me from my rest
For snow is April’s chill, unwelcome guest.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Song of April!
Is it that incomplete song
you sing for me April
or the soulful song of
a nightingale or a song
from the heart of Earth
A song long heard
which is lost in the waves
or one melody which melts
the rocks so hard you want
to sing for me April
A song I can sing from the
notes so perfect or the one
so loud to compete with
the wild clouds and forests
Is it that song incomplete April
you sing for me now...
April 17, 2009
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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Appalachian Gray
I think the dusk has slipped beyond all words.
You speak spring with an accent never heard.
A poem on an Appalachian pane
Is bringing April back via the rain.
Pale trillium on the hill above the creek
Is delicate beyond the will to speak.
A gray coat of old feelings wraps my frame.
The landscape flickers like a candleflame.
Friend, frozen tears of trees mirror the sky
Within the confines of their inner cry.
The light fades us into its elegy.
Music is pictured though no sound need be.
2007, Copyright Sandra Fowler
poem by Sandra Fowler
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From April
These days are from April
When spring is coming in
With the dreams of the hill
In green blossoms to win
Hours grow their backyard
From daybreaks rising deep
And from the dim are barred
With blossoms true to keep
Each secret lane of sorrow
Is now in muttered stain
And here is now tomorrow
With their stone and grain
These summer days of April
The song of growing hills
In dreams of silence still
And each new coming thrill
When day and night together
Are like one in each one
In beautiful spring weather
Until those dreams are gone
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Flower God, God Of The Spring
FLOWER god, god of the spring, beautiful, bountiful,
Cold-dyed shield in the sky, lover of versicles,
Here I wander in April
Cold, grey-headed; and still to my
Heart, Spring comes with a bound, Spring the deliverer,
Spring, song-leader in woods, chorally resonant;
Spring, flower-planter in meadows,
Child-conductor in willowy
Fields deep dotted with bloom, daisies and crocuses:
Here that child from his heart drinks of eternity:
O child, happy are children!
She still smiles on their innocence,
She, dear mother in God, fostering violets,
Fills earth full of her scents, voices and violins:
Thus one cunning in music
Wakes old chords in the memory:
Thus fair earth in the Spring leads her performances.
One more touch of the bow, smell of the virginal
Green - one more, and my bosom
Feels new life with an ecstasy.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Springtime's Coming
Everything is turning green
Spring is just around the bend
Birds are singing everywhere
And Sonya’s got a cold
There’s a red bird on the patio
Sun’s a'shining, clouds'll have to go
Cat’s a'sneaking through the underbrush
And Joker colored a shoe
Yes Springtime’s coming
With all of it’s irony
Sunshine and common colds
Flu bugs and swimming holes
Springtime’s coming
With picnic’s and tornadoes
Sunburns and fishing poles
Won’t you hurry up Spring
Copyright by CR. Clark-April,1976
poem by C.R. Clark
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MEET ME BY THE RIVER (The Rendezvous)
Meet me by the river tonight
Just you and me under the pale moonlight
I promise you I won’t be afraid
of the dark
Meet me by the river tonight
Just you and me, the moon and the stars
I promise I will give you my heart
There in the water
Meet me by the river tonight
Where the wind makes the water sigh
Take me to the deepest part
And I’ll show you how brave my heart
Meet me after dark, my love
By that river where they say
A year ago today two lovers drowned
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
poem by Sonya Florentino
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Out Of The Blue
A little girl on the bus today
made another little girl cry
When she wouldn’t let the
other one sit beside her
The dejected girl ran back to
her father’s lap in tears
While the other girl’s mother
kept saying “I’m sorry, we’re sorry”
Everyone in the bus looked so unhappy
The sobbing girl broke everyone’s heart
As for me, I thought, well
Isn’t she lucky…
I tried hard not to recall
another little girl
Who couldn’t find solace
from a dark cruel world
(But I couldn't...)
I run out the bus
But not fast enough
She was already crying
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
poem by Sonya Florentino
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April Showers
It is the season of new beginnings...
Spring removes her winter robe
And fades into rainbows of hope;
The sun shines its headlights into April-
And in the garden the effluent scent
Of multiple blooms delights the nose;
The naked trees are no longer bare
Clothed in egg shell, pink and green.
Now entertaining the sometime visit
Of the butterfly and bee;
Showers are but a necessity
Splashed to chase the thirst away
They are never maudlin weeping tears
But always fall on purpose
For they help to bring
Even more blossoms to May;
Dedicated To: 'Betty'...AKA- - - - - - -
Remembering 1978
August: Seattle Times
And what you said:
'Emily took off like a big bird
For L.A. and Australia
But you had better get your
Umbrella's out as she is
Flying back in the spring...'
I did fly back in the Spring
Of 1979...for my fathers last
Two heart attacks and death.
Heart attack in April and last
One in May... and then he passed!
We will always wonder how
You knew that i would be
coming back in April
When even the doctors did
Not know!
By: Theodora Onken
April 9,2012
poem by Theodora Onken
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If I Were An Object
If I were an object
I would be a guitar
So that my man would hold me
Close to his heart
He'll hold me, carress me
Touch me, fondle me
And I'll have no recourse but to sing
The sweetest song he'll ever hear
If I were an object of desire
I'd be his guitar
For I know he will never go far
I'll be his sole obsession
a life-long affliction
Subject to his unwavering
affection and dedication
I will conquer his soul
He will be my possession
In return I will grant him
His longed-for absolution
And he will never want to put me down
For he can never get enough of that sound
The notes he'll never reach
The song that makes him weep
The sound of a woman...
... still sighing... while he sleeps....
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
poem by Sonya Florentino
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April
Puzzling dialogues grow facile,
April is a month of dates,
The cherry-plum blossoms in April,
And for the love it happily waits.
The maiden has a date in April,
Her heart is full of adoration…
O spring! Just you hold me back,
Or else, I’d have left the Creation.
poem by Tsira Gogeshvili
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The Song Remains the Same
You have morphed into a guitar
You’ve been transformed into musical notes
You have become
a plaintive song in my heart
That was all you were
That is all you are
That is all you'll ever be
I have said goodbye
I've thrown water to the fire
But still... the guitar weeps
Still... the silenced heart beats
© 2010 Sonya Florentino
poem by Sonya Florentino
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