#April Poetry

[typewriter-worries]

Easter, Emily Pauline Johnson

[divyachamaria]

Prompt 1: Daylight Eyes

In the realm of daylight eyes, there lies a tale,

Of darkness and light, a delicate veil.

A testament to the kindness, deep within us resides,

And the shadows we carry, where silence abides.

Daylight eyes, a witness to the earth's tender bloom,

As it awakens from winter's gloom.

A reminder, that in every ending,

Lurks the whisper of a new beginning

Through these eyes, the world anew, we see,

A landscape painted with the hues of possibility.

Daylight eyes, the lens through which we find,

The strength to leave the darkest nights behind.

To let the light in, a choice we make,

With every dawn, with every ache.

For in the embrace of daylight's gentle gaze,

Lies the promise of brighter days.

Daylight eyes, a vision healed, a heart reborn,

In the light, our deepest wounds are worn.

For within us all, there’s both night and day,

And with the light, we find our way.

[poppiesandpromises]

Since it's national poetry month, does anyone have any poems they would like for me to write for them?

[pearlsoflongago]

Voices of April

Breezes, Blossoms, and Birds

Prunieurs en Fleurs/Plum Trees in Bloom by Clause Monet

The West Wind

It’s a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April’s in the west wind, and daffodils.

It’s a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine, Apple orchards blossom there, and the air’s like wine. There is cool green grass there, where men may lie at rest, And the thrushes are in song there, fluting from the nest.

‘Will ye not come home, brother? ye have been long away, It’s April, and blossom time, and white is the may; And bright is the sun, brother, and warm is the rain,— Will ye not come home, brother, home to us again?

‘The young corn is green, brother, where the rabbits run, It’s blue sky, and white clouds, and warm rain and sun. It’s song to a man’s soul, brother, fire to a man’s brain, To hear the wild bees and see the merry spring again.

‘Larks are singing in the west, brother, above the green wheat, So will ye not come home, brother, and rest your tired feet? I’ve a balm for bruised hearts, brother, sleep for aching eyes,’ Says the warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries.

It’s the white road westwards is the road I must tread To the green grass, the cool grass, and rest for heart and head, To the violets and the warm hearts and the thrushes’ song, In the fine land, the west land, the land where I belong.

-John Masefield

De Roze Perzikboom/Blossoming Pear Tree by Vincent van Gogh

Home Thoughts, From Abroad

O, to be in England Now that April 's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England—now!

And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows! Hark, where my blossom'd pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray's edge— That 's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture! And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower —Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

—Robert Browning

Song of a Second April

April this year, not otherwise Than April of a year ago, Is full of whispers, full of sighs, Of dazzling mud and dingy snow; Hepaticas that pleased you so Are here again, and butterflies.

There rings a hammering all day, And shingles lie about the doors; In orchards near and far away The grey woodpecker taps and bores; And men are merry at their chores, And children earnest at their play.

The larger streams run still and deep, Noisy and swift the small brooks run Among the mullein stalks the sheep Go up the hillside in the sun, Pensively,—only you are gone, You that alone I cared to keep.

—Edna St. Vincent Millay

Pear Blossoms by Winslow Homer

[nwpoetariel]

essential angel

draft essential angel a gentle love of a familiar, acheafter him almost another day.a drunk, who hungersbetween blaze and ground,soak there your heart –an imagined bouquetkept sacred between a season of snow& winter, a lesser nature of air.oh beautiful woman, he inspiresa freeze of river, whispers during night. Ariel

[king-galaxius]

Sometimes A Fool

There is knowledge from the books. There is knowledge from the streets. There also tricks and treats. And, a garden tool. However, no matter how much knowledge one has, we are always sometimes a fool.

[soleilady]

Credit @metamorphesque

[aowkay]

Here Comes, April

The time of the year,
when the god’s send their child out to play,
in a garden that appears blue from above,
called earth, that waits for him earnestly.

The plants sprout their fattest buds,
& shiniest of leaves; mountains bow their peaks down,
lush trees sway in unison; young and full of life,
to welcome the spirit that is, April. 

He arrives & steals your winter coat away,
& takes you for a spin through the clouds,
the wind rushing past your face,
‘breathe, you can start over again, you’re safe with me now,’ he shrieks with joy.

April is a little child with an ancient heart,
who draws his sword with a smile on his face,
for those he protects everyday,
but forgets those wars as he is after all, a child. 

Every year, April visits his children,
tiny flames of light, born within April’s bosom,
who were sent here with a purpose,
to bring both joy and rage; loyalty and vengeance; war and peace. 

Autumn, winters and monsoons look at April with wonder,
the only one carrying the light of the sun, 
along with his children,
those he chose to be born within him,
who hold the power of opening the gates of heaven,
for those they truly love. 

Love always,

aowkay.

[genesis365]

#16

4/2 of April Poetry Month Prompt: Write a poem titled "Frozen"

Frozen

it's a time thing.

Like moments passing you

while you stand

still.

Frozen.

Not in the let it go sense

more like

put your coat on

You don't want

to be found

frozen.

I feel the thawing

like a preserved sense of

myself protected from

time - almost ready

to move.

Bend again.

Feeling air around my fingertips at a

pace where every

sensation

is the potential of rebirth.

❤️ Genesis

[afoxespalette]

Earth Day:

Today we honor Mother Earth, The planet that gives us all birth; A day to deepen our connection, And celebrate all of creation.

From the birds up in the sky, To the bees that buzz on by, And all the creatures down below, We thank them for the gifts they bestow.

From far and wide, To every corner of the earth, We give our thanks and gratitude, For all the beauty and its worth.

From the ocean deep, To the forests and the trees, May we cherish and protect, So that future generations can roam free.

On this Earth Day, we are reminded, Of the impact we have on this planet; To reduce our carbon footprint, And protect all creatures and habitats.

For every living thing that crawls, And those that walk on two legs tall, May we all do our part, And protect their homes with all our hearts.

From far and wide, To every corner of the earth, We give our thanks and gratitude, For all the beauty and its worth.

From the air we breathe, To every blade of grass and every tree, May we cherish and protect, And keep our planet healthy and free.

Let us remember today and every day, That Mother Earth needs our love and care; For every step we take and every word we say, Let it be for the earth and all it's worth.

From far and wide, To every corner of the earth, We give our thanks and gratitude, For all the beauty and its worth.

May we live in harmony, With all creatures and their diversity; For this earth is our shared land, A gift for all to truly understand.

-- AFoxesPalette

[askatknits]

Thursday's are for poetry | 4.18.24

Welcome to Week Three of National Poetry Month! This week our theme is Color… and I was so excited about that! When I think of color and poetry, one beloved poet comes to my mind, Derek Walcott. I know of no other poet who has the thread of color weaving through so many of his poems and I have immersed myself deeply in his works… I don’t ever need an excuse to read any of his poetry, but a deep…

[typewriter-worries]

Marty Rubin

[ Text ID: April is the kindest month ]

[havingapoemwithyou]

wet evening in April by Patrick Kavanagh

[fairydrowning]

"Well, let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice."

– F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Short Stories

[apoemaday]

April

by Mary Oliver

I wanted to speak at length about the happiness of my body and the delight of my mind for it was April, a night, a full moon and --

but something in myself or maybe from somewhere other said: not too many words, please, in the muddy shallows the

Frogs are singing.

[nwpoetariel]

the void

the void my muscles are heavy with need. i whisper into the voidstill too quiet for you to avoidall i want is for you to walk into my poemlet to swirl and whirl around youperhaps sneak into your earwork its way into your subconscious then one day you will start to randomlythink about meand love then connect the twoand with a thundering shoutyou will run back to me your muscles heavy with…