Ripples in April 9,2012
‘April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain‘ -(Waste Land)
...
Prosaic spring night; droplets of carbon monoxide
Paint brazen leaves with dark shades of truth.
Rumbling doomsday drums stun to silence
The monotony of treachery.
Fires, fangs rule our reasons as spring gasp for breath.
Welcome change from the hypocrisy of sunshine
Peddled by the wizards of fertility; hoax and lies mixed with vomit.
I drink my night under the corrugated iron shade; and sleep
Comfortably dead.
© Syed Ahmed Shah, Bokultol, Guwahati, the 9th of April,2012
poem by Syed Ahmed Shah
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Related quotes
A disagreement with T.S. Elliot (Partial Sonnet.)
I question T.S.Elliot’s remark
on April and the jist of what he said.
Some genius loves to languish in the dark
Lapping with the lilacs of the dead? *
So shakening the wakening of the year
Nostalgia and necrosis lay entwined*
For those who covet fantasies of fear
Hoisting sombre umbrellas o’er their mind
For me, this month’s allure has NEVER flagged.
(Coz “April” was the first lass wot I shagged!)
* Inspired by the quote:
“ April is the cruellest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.” -T.S.Elliot
poem by Reece Kaye
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Breeding
I named breeding, which comes from 'April is the cruellest month, breeding'
Breeding
2012 year make a more breeding in doimg
everything
poem by Min Kyungdae
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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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Spring Is Here
(rodgers & hart)
Once there was a thing called spring
When the world was writing
Verses like yours and mine
All the boys and girls would sing
As we sat at little tables and drank may wine
Now april, may and june
Seem sadly out of tune
Life has stuck a pin in the balloon
Spring is here, why doesnt my heart go dancing
Spring is here, why isnt the waltz entrancing
No desire, no ambition leads me
Maybe its because nobody needs me
Spring is here, why doesnt the breeze delight me
Stars appear, why doesnt the night invite me
Maybe its because nobody loves me
Spring is here
Spring is here
Spring is here
I hear
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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April is the cruellest month.
T.S. Eliot in The Waste Land (1922)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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I Hear The Echo by Dr. Bhupen Hazarika (Translated from Assamese)
I hear the echo
I hear the echo
I hear the echo
I hear the echo
Of the screaming night
Carried over from the other side
Of the mountain bodering my village
I hear the echo
I train my ears but can't hear a thing
I open my eyes wide but can't see a thing
I close my eyes and think, but do not understand
I don't know how to climb a thousand mountains
I hear the echo of the screaming night
I hear the echo
May be its the tragic story of a young girl
May be its grandma's bedtime fairy tale
May be its the longing of a farmer's nursery
The tragic story of the young girl has come to an end
The bed time fairy tale of grandma has come to an end
The longings of the farmer's nursery has come to an end
The familiar song still escapes me
I hear the echo of the new cry
I hear the echo
My dark hair get tinted with morning's red hues
The panicky mist before the eyes vanishes to the blue
A thousand cries come out of a people awakened
A thousand mountains crumble in the impact of its sound
I hear an approaching storm in the sea of humanity
I hear the echo of the new cry
I hear the echo...
- Dr. Bhupen Hazarika (1953)
© Syed Ahmed Shah(Translator) , Bokultol, Guwahati.
poem by Syed Ahmed Shah
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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.
New Spring
Spring!
Spring! How beautiful is the
Spring! How wonderful is the
Spring! How majestic is the
Spring! How fantastic is the
Spring! How tantalizing is the
Spring! How glorious is the
Spring! How melodious is the
Spring! How joyful is the
Spring! How breathtaking is the
Spring! How uplifting the
Spring! How happy is the
Spring! How magnificent is the
Spring! How colorful is the
Spring! How tasteful is the
Spring! How memorable was the
Spring! How flavorful is the
Spring! How aromic is the
Spring! How sweet is
Spring! How beautiful is the
Spring!
poem by Mario Saboundjian
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Spring Is Here
Once there was a thing called spring
When the world was writing verses like yours and mine,
All the lads and girls would sing
When we sat at little tables and drank may wine.
Now april, may and june
Are sadly out of tune
Life has stuck a pin in the boat.
Spring is here
Why doesnt my heart go dancing?
Spring is here
Why isnt the waltz entrancing?
No desire,
No ambition leads me
Maybe its because nobody needs me
Spring is here
Why doesnt the breeze delight me?
Stars appear
Why doesnt the night invite me?
Maybe its because nobody loves me
Spring is here, I hear
Maybe its because nobody loves me
Spring is here, I hear
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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La Regina Avrillouse
Lady of rich allure,
Queen of the spring's embrace,
Your arms are long like boughs of ash,
Mid laugh-broken streams, spirit of rain unsure,
Breath of the poppy flower,
All the wood thy bower
And the hills thy dwelling-place.
This will I no more dream;
Warm is thy arm's allure,
Warm is the gust of breath
That ere thy lips meet mine
Kisseth my cheek and saith:
"This is the joy of earth,
Here is the wine of mirth
Drain ye one goblet sure,
Take ye the honey cup
The honied song raise up,
Drink of the spring's allure,
April and dew and rain;
Brown of the earth sing sure,
Cheeks and lips and hair
And soft breath that kisseth where
Thy lips have come not yet to drink."
Moss and the mold of earth,
These be thy couch of mirth,
Long arms thy boughs of shade
April-alluring, as the blade
Of grass doth catch the dew
And make it crown to hold the sun.
Banner be you
Above my head,
Glory to all wold display'd,
April-alluring, glory-bold.
poem by Ezra Pound
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The Muted Cry by Dr, Bhupen Hazarika (Translated from Assamese)
Can you hear the muted cry of the silent millions longing for freedom?
Can you see the light of renewed courage spanning the horizon?
How much did you gain and how much did you lose
If you did not count, it matters but little
Here comes your time, the Day of Reckoning
No reason to be scared, just speak the way you feel
Morning lies concealed
In the bosom of the Darkest Hour
Closed doors forever fear
The power of Free Air
Each dropp of the ocean now
Has turned into a mighty tide
Overflowing the ocean banks
And everything in its path
The fervent cry of hope
Echoing in every heart
Has reached every corner
Of this limitless universe
March ever onward,
As rapidly as you can
Stop not for a second,
(There's) nothing thereby to gain
Destroy with your might
The destructive evil force
In this war for peace,
There is nothing, at all, to lose
Morning lies concealed
In the bosom of the Darkest Hour
The jackals are forever scared
Of the lions mighty roar
Can you hear the muted cry of the silent millions longing for freedom?
Can you see the light of renewed courage spanning the horizon?
© Syed Ahmed Shah (translator) , Bokultol, Guwahati
poem by Syed Ahmed Shah
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Sonnet XLIII: Love and Hope
Bless love and hope. Full many a withered year
Whirled past us, eddying to its chill doomsday;
And clasped together where the blown leaves lay
We long have knelt and wept full many a tear.
Yet lo! one hour at last, the Spring's compeer,
Flutes softly to us from some green byeway:
Those years, those tears are dead, but only they:—
Bless love and hope, true soul; for we are here.
Cling heart to heart; nor of this hour demand
Whether in very truth, when we are dead,
Our hearts shall wake to know Love's golden head
Sole sunshine of the imperishable land;
Or but discern, through night's unfeatured scope,
Scorn-fired at length the illusive eyes of Hope.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The First Spring Day
THE sunshine died long ago,
Stifled out long ago,
And the waste of the world was grey,
And night was the best to know,
For night was to doze and forget the day,
To be warm and forgetting and still,
And need not the sun and know not the chill:
But oh, for the day that was darkened so!
Why gaze on a barren heaven,
Void and unchanging heaven,
On a barren earth in the grime,
And not a poor blossom given,
No thing that was thinking of sunshine time,
For a promise, a praise of the past?
And so one forgot the sunshine at last;
And sleep could avail, but what to have striven?
The sunshine wakes once anew,
Wakes and is born anew,
And the Age of the earth grows young,
And heaven has its youth for hue,
And hope is the tune of the spring-bird's tongue,
And the leaves in their prisons all hark,
And blossoms will know there is end of the dark:
One hour of the sun, and the spring-time grew!
The sunshine new on the earth,
Heaven to brighten the earth,
And the deathful dimness gone by,
The barren and winter dearth!
And to-day is the best till the next is nigh,
And to-night is to-morrow begun,
To-morrow, when blossoms remember the sun!
Dead hopes, are ye born with the blossoms birth?
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Averil
I love thee, April! for thou art the Spring
When Spring is Summer; and thy wayward showers,
Sudden and short, soothly do bring May flowers,
Thus making thee a harbinger, whose wing
Bright jewels, Nature's rarest choice, doth fling
O'er dewy-glistening brakes and banks and bowers,
To ravish loving eyes through longer hours
When Winter is a dead forgotten thing.
Such promise dost thou give of Summer bloom;--
But thine own sunshine hast thou, thine own light;
And fair are April flowers, April leaves--
Fairer to eyes aching from Winter's gloom
Than late-blown joys of May, that greet the sight
When drunk with gladness it from thee receives.
poem by Thomas MacDonagh
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Spring Did Come.
Spring did come,
On butterfly's wings.
On a flitting bird,
And the song it sings.
Spring did come,
When the flowers bloomed,
When it filled the air
With a sweet purfume.
Spring did come,
On the morning's breeze.
Spring did come,
On budding leaves.
Spring did come,
On blades of dew.
Spring did come,
In skies of blue.
Spring did come,
With a joyous ring.
Spring did come...
Welcome, Spring!
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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Song V
THE sunshine of your presence lies
On the glad garden of my heart
And bids the leaves of silence part
To show the flowers to your dear eyes,
And flower on flower blooms there and dies
And still new buds awakened spring,
For sunshine makes the garden wise,
To know the time for blossoming.
Night is no time for blossoming,
Your garden then dreams otherwise,
Of vanished Summer, vanished Spring,
And how the dearest flower first dies.
Yet from your ministering eyes
Though night hath drawn me far apart
On the still garden of my heart
The moonlight of your memory lies.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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To Flora
When April woke the drowsy flowers,
And vagrant odors thronged the breeze,
And bluebirds wrangled in the bowers,
And daisies flashed along the leas,
And faint arbutus strove among
Dead winter's leaf-strewn wreck to rise,
And nature's sweetly jubilant song
Went murmuring up the sunny skies,
Into this cheerful world you came,
And gained by right your vernal name.
I think the springs have changed of late,
For "Arctics" are my daily wear,
The skies are turned to cold gray slate,
And zephyrs are but draughts of air;
But you make up whate'er we lack,
When we, too rarely, come together,
More potent than the almanac,
You bring the ideal April weather;
When you are with us we defy
The blustering air, the lowering sky;
In spite of Winter's icy darts,
We've spring and sunshine in our hearts.
In fine, upon this April day,
This deep conundrum I will bring:
Tell me the two good reasons, pray,
I have, to say you are like spring?
You give it up? Because we love you
And see so very little of you.
April Rain
The April rain, the April rain,
Comes slanting down in fitful showers,
Then from the furrow shoots the grain,
And banks are fledged with nestling flowers;
And in grey shaw and woodland bowers
The cuckoo through the April rain
Calls once again.
The April sun, the April sun,
Glints through the rain in fitful splendour,
And in grey shaw and woodland dun
The little leaves spring forth and tender
Their infant hands, yet weak and slender,
For warmth towards the April sun,
One after one.
And between shower and shine hath birth
The rainbow's evanescent glory;
Heaven's light that breaks on mists of earth!
Frail symbol of our human story,
It flowers through showers where, looming hoary,
The rain-clouds flash with April mirth,
Like Life on earth.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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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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