The Evolution Of April
Whenever my twin palm trees sway,
rustling towards warmer waters,
I think of you in Los Angeles,
and then of Paris in Spring, our April,
that month sweetest and most cruel,
and on my list down, down,
near the Louvre i'd written: Love;
that romantic cliché, Paris for Eros.
I was living in the 4 th, the arrondissement
across from the Ile Saint Louis,
within sight of Notre Dame,
that's the point where the Seine god
parts his legs expansively, stretching
for a moment, before he merges for the sea.
You called me, you were lost, and so I ran
down and around my creaking stairs,
and then you were there, my Azriel,
my Thanatos, a perfect shadow standing
at Metro St Paul, waiting in the sunshine,
and always, and in my haste to meet you,
I'd knocked my watch against the threshold,
my Breguet ‘Réveil du Tzar, '
a small blued-steel Awakening of Caesar,
stopping time for just one afternoon,
and those two tiny twin hands unnoticed
as second and week-day pointers,
were released from their routine,
and danced each other across that silver face of time,
magnetic to the other, and affixed their darting bodies
to the pomme-hole of the minute hand's angel tip
and now months later they ride it still around,
ticking: All are equal! Tocking: Be special!
If only we, like them, were still in special orbit.
Ah, well, anyway. Later after awkward coffee
falling at the Caféohèque into desire,
kissing politely goodbye,
then French-kissing hello to Spring desire,
that brain-licking hell-hungry lion,
for me there was no hiding in ordinary days,
the new idea of you made my long-grasses shiver,
and the sprawl of you appeared in others faces.
Shehzaad, your name's bright syllables,
named now a new discovered element of boy,
and a new world brave, uninvited, real and permanent,
you are always spring to me, and someday, sometime,
some way we will be again like those blue angel hands
a skipping kiss across the silver face of time,
but for now, those twin palms are clear in total blue
and so rustle on obscure, and never two without you.
poem by Guy Peppin
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Related quotes
April In Paris
Vernon duke / e. y. harburg
I never knew the charm of spring
I never met it face to face
I never new my heart could sing
I never missed a warm embrace
Till april in paris, chestnuts in blossom
Holiday tables under the trees
April in paris, this is a feeling
That no one can ever reprise
I never knew the charm of spring
I never met it face to face
I never new my heart could sing
I never missed a warm embrace
Till april in paris
Whom can I run to
What have you done to my heart
song performed by by Billie Holiday
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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Angeliou
Angeliou oh angeliou
Oh oh angeliou angeliou
Oh angeliou oh angeliou oh my angeliou
In the month of may
In the month of may
In the city of paris
In the month of may
In the month of may
In the city of paris
And I heard the bells ringing, and I heard the bells ringing
In the month of may
In the city of paris and I called out your name
In the month of may
In the city of paris
In the month of may
In the city of paris
Oh oh angeliou oh angeliou oh oh angeliou oh my angeliou
Walkin on a city street who would think you could ever be touched
By a total stranger, not me
But when you came up to me that day and I listened to your story
It reminded me so much of myself
It wasnt what you said but the way it felt to me
About a search and a journey just like mine
Will you be my baby
Will you be my baby now
Will you be my baby
Will you be my baby now
Angeliou oh angeliou
Angeliou oh angeliou
Yes I will yes I will yes I will
After she told all these things to me I said I got a story too
It goes something like this
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Los Angeles
City of glam, city of crime
People are fake, you're no friend of mine
Club fights, dancing through the night
We're kids living the dream under the lights
We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles
City of High, city of low
Selling drugs, we're losing our souls
Walking the strip with one goal
We're gonna live our dream, no one can stop us all
We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles
Girls in my world
Music in my ears
Pain in my tears
Rock in my veins
Nothing in my brain
I think i'm going insane
That's all i need in Los Angeles
We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles
We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles
poem by by unknown author
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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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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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Sweetest Feeling
Will Young
Sweetest Feeling
The better you look baby
The better you look
The more I want you
When you turn on your smile
I feel my heart go wild
I'm like a child with a brand new toy
And I get the
Sweetest feeling
Honey the Sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Baby the Sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Loving you, ya
The warmer your kiss
The deeper you touch me baby
The deeper your touch
The more you thrill me
It's more than I can stand
Girl, when you hold my hand
I feel so grand
That I could cry
And I get the (Sweetest Feeling)
Moma the sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Baby the sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Loving you
uhh The greater your love
The stronger you hold me baby
The stronger your hold
The more I need You.
With every passing day
I love you more in everyway
I'm in love to stay
And I wanna say
I get the (Sweetest Feeling)
Baby the sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Honey the sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Loving You
aw (Sweetest Feeling)
Baby the sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Sweetest
song performed by by Will Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Paris Song
Paris so beautiful at night
And during the day is beautiful also
The Eiffel Tower is located in the center of Paris
But all the flowers in Paris are blooming in the parks
And at la seine
Yes spring is heret in Paris
And I am enjoying the spring
But the flowers in the parks here in Paris are beautiful
Because they are a show of colors
poem by Aldo Kraas
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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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MAY' is here again
May is here again
I pray this month does not bring pain
Last month I was thinking of a calling trip
To a country God gives and they sip
Where happiness is called above
Hearts are white like dove
If I go, I may never return again
Because may has brought no pain
To tale of bountiful counts
How many followed last month in tuneless sounds
April had lodged my heart in cramp corner
A peep at the future, May can take me further
Exotic journey, April has call
In May due season my pains will fall
Might of last month I can’t retain
May is here again
poem by Godspower Oshodin
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Song # 36
In the month of April
I behold the showers
That from heaven fall
So we can have the flowers.
In the April month
You know May is near,
That the birds will sing;
The sky will be so clear.
poem by Luis Estable
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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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Salutatıons to Sprıng
With salutations
I greet Spring
New born warmth,
nature brings.
Jewels of sunlight
touching down
Painting patterns
on the ground.
Flowers yawn,
address the day
Gentle breezes
softly sway.
Rustling leaves,
whispering air
Joyous Spring
is everywhere
poem by Heather Burns
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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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I Love Paris
Every time I look down on this timeless town,
Whether blue or gray be her skies,
Whether loud be her cheers, or whether soft be her tears,
More and more do I realize that...
I love paris in the spring time
I love paris in the fall
I love paris in the summer when it sizzles
I
Love paris in the winter when it drizzles
I love paris every moment
Every moment of the year
I love
Paris, why oh why do I love paris
Because my love is here
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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April in Paris, chestnuts in blossom, holiday tables under the trees.
quote by E.Y. Harburg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paris in Spring
The city's all a-shining
Beneath a fickle sun,
A gay young wind's a-blowing,
The little shower is done.
But the rain-drops still are clinging
And falling one by one --
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time has begun.
I know the Bois is twinkling
In a sort of hazy sheen,
And down the Champs the gray old arch
Stands cold and still between.
But the walk is flecked with sunlight
Where the great acacias lean,
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris,
And the leaves are growing green.
The sun's gone in, the sparkle's dead,
There falls a dash of rain,
But who would care when such an air
Comes blowing up the Seine?
And still Ninette sits sewing
Beside her window-pane,
When it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time's come again.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Los Angeles
I met a man
He was a good man
Sailing and shoring
Dancing the beta can-can
Making me foreign
Oh yeah
I want to live in los angeles
Not the one in los angeles
No, not the one in south california
The got one in south patagonia
I want to live in los angeles
Not the one in los angeles
They got a bunch down in moleville
They got a bunch more still
I want to live in los angeles
Not the one is los angeles
They got one in twenty-five two five
Works just like a beehive
I want to live in los angeles
Not the one in los angeles
Counting helicopters on a saturday night
The symphony of the fair light
I hear them saying los angeles
In all the black and white movies
And if you think they star-spangled us
How come we say los angeleez?
Ill wait in los angeles
Ill wait in the pouring sun
No way
For not anyone
No way
I met a man
He was a good man
Sailing and shoring
He got a betatron, man
Talking that foreign
Oh yeah
Ill wait in los angeles
Ill wait in the pouring sun
No way
For not anyone
No way
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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.