Poets United Midweek Motif ~ April

Tuesday, April 04, 2017 04:41PM  HARPURSVILLE, N.Y.

April the Giraffe is  . . . ready to give birth at any moment! 

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“April hath put a spirit of youth in everything.” 

― William Shakespeare, Sonnet XCVIII

"The first of April is the day we remember what 
we are the other 364 days of the year."
 ― Mark Twain

“April is the cruelest month, breeding

lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

memory and desire, stirring

dull roots with spring rain.”

― T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

A Year on Planet Earth (4 Seasons)

Midweek Motif ~ April

Where I live in the Northern Hemisphere, Spring is arriving in bulbs and budding trees, somewhat less abundant due to late frost.  Where Poets United's Rosemary lives, Fall approaches with lots and lots of rain.  Thanks to Rosemary, I include two April poems from Australia.

I always look forward to April!

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Your Challenge:  Write a new poem capturing the details of an outdoor scene or day in April.  

April flowers: Daisy and Sweet Pea

April 

by Sara Teasdale

The roofs are shining from the rain.
The sparrows tritter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.

Yet the back-yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree--
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me. 

Song of a Second April

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

APRIL this year, not otherwise

Than April of a year ago

Is full of whispers, full of sighs,

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;

From orchards near and far away

The gray wood-pecker 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. 

Autumn leaves observed in Centennial Park, Sydney.

April Rains

     by Allan Lake

Somewhere a small flood gate opens:

Rainstorm as a goddess

sings Garden in the Rain.

I lose tears throughout,

unable to dam the flow.

This is new, like those flowers

just outside my window,

not the ones near the door

that have given their best.

Their time, my time, the season.

Full moon last night,

its twin on the still lake.

We walked in silence knowing

what we were walking towards

but going forward because

that's all we can do

while walking hand in hand 

or alone.

Winter warms to spring;

summer sighs into autumn,

alias fall. I fell, as was my fate.

Mist, mushrooms, musts happen.

A petal, a leaf, a belief –

hosts of smallish wonders

bloom and pass and possibly

circle round again,

nudging the journey

of every sentient spore.

1st published in Poetry Matters 2016, then Poetica Christi Anthology 2017.

Used with permission of the poet. 

The Small Poem in Autumn

     © Rosemary Nissen 1990

The small poem of green leaves

and yellow leaves and red leaves

and green leaves turning yellow

and red leaves turning brown.

The small poem of green grass

and grey grass and silver grass

and black grass under shadow

and grasses beige and fawn.

The poem of the magpie’s song

rippling and gurgling in eloquent bursts

between perfect intervals of silence

each finished phrase a variation

extending the one before.

The small poem notes these down

in a half hour between sleep and work

before the clouds change and the sun moves

and the grey grass turns deep brown

and the magpie stops and leaves fall.

from Small Poems of April, Abalone Press (Three Bridges, Vic.) 1990
Used with the poet’s permission.

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Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—               

                       (Next week Sumana’s Midweek Motif will be ~ Books )