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Life April Poems | Life Poems About April

These Life April poems are examples of Life poems about April. These are the best examples of Life April poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | I do not know? | |

Still In Progress

How can I be selfless without being used? 
How can I be demanding without being so rude? 
How can I open up without closing back down? 
How can I speak if you don't hear a sound? 
How can I trust without being betrayed? 
Yet how could I leave... even after you stayed? 
But how can you love me when I won't let you in? 
So many questions.... where do I begin? 
-------- 
Memories now blurred, flying through my mind…… 
Now, I’m trying to repress the days of being youthful and blind. 
Every morning I pull on my armor, right from within, 
Preparing for a war, that I intend, to win. 
If my heart is my comrade and my mind is the enemy, 
Then in the midst of this battlefield, 
Life is the remedy…
 --- 
Trying to stay sane, knowing that although this is temporary, nothing is vain… 
Learning that there is always a purpose and people will try to corrupt us, and bring you great shame… 
Being told that ‘Victory isn't given to he who starts the race the strongest, but he who endures until the end.’ 
Trying to suspend you from learning to depend... on yourself, 
instead making you depend on the wealth, 
Of someone who doesn't even know who he is, 
while you’re grasping the stealth of your true identity, in your right hand, in your heart, the knowledge…
Never been withheld 
… 
.. 
. 
Feeling the world come crashing down on you, compacting into a mist of air so cool, 
The breeze passing right through, right into the depths of your pores, to ensue, 
The burning and broken and fragile pieces of the inhabitants of the earth from your birth til' now.. 
Physically becoming everything that you breathe, touch, conceive, munch, perceive, every aroma... 
And every great or insignificant trauma, reflecting off your skin oh so temporarily, the mark so paper thin… 
Physically, THAT is what you are… 
Because we only see the physical, right? 
Yet, behind every movie is there not a director… a cast? 
And behind every painting is there not an artist, combining colors and lines so vast? 
And behind every child is there not a journey, a past? 
...
That you did not walk, yet you know that it’s there, not by sight, scent, taste, touch, or hearing... But something inside you, that says it makes sense, KNOWS that all of that is there, 
KNOWING
...
..
.


Details | Free verse | |

The Storm

And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain 
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body 
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions 
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence 
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth 
I stand among the reeds in the basin 
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back 
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away 
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground 
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own 
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home


Details | Narrative | |

April 15, 2013


They say that the only sure things
Are death and taxes

After gathering information and a bit of math practice and
carefully filling out the forms
And sending them in to various governments:
Federal, State, and Local;

After gathering resources and a lot of running practice
And carefully filling out the registration forms
And sending them in
For the Boston Marathon -

Who knew 
The end of the race would really be
The End of the Race?

Crowds cheered
As the runners crossed the finish line

And a few crossed over
No doubt, to cheering crowds of angels
And loved ones long past

This is fresh news; and no one knows
Who planted the bombs
Or why

They say that the only sure things
Are death and taxes

Who knew they’d both fall on the same day?


Details | Couplet | |

Unknown

Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?

Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.

And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.

I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep. 

Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.

And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.


Details | Free verse | |

If I Shall Grow Old 2K13

If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.


Details | Free verse | |

Work

Work.
Toil.
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
Corn. 
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
Work. 
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.


©Demand4poetry
21 February 2013


Details | Personification | |

SUICIDE NOTE

My name is flower
Of number one display and color
To commit suicide I decide
To take nuclear waste or pesticide

Am tired of you people polluting the air
Polluting our rivers and streams that's not fair
You clear out our jungles, you cut down our mountains
To make way for tall buildings Hollywood Mansions and fountains

You burn fuel for energy source
Depleting the ozone showing no remorse
You drill, you drain the earth of it's natural resource and nutrients
Causing a shift in the earth's plate
Evidence Tsunami and Earth Quake

I cannot take it anymore
This is the final straw
Yes am gonna commit suicide
Either by Nuclear Waste or Pesticide
O! yes you need me for oxygen
along with all other plant life existing

So if I were to take them all with me you'll die
You'll be no more... no lie?
So sit back admire the beauty, the splendor  
The wonderful blossoming of a flower

In my last breath I write this suicide note
Dated 25th April 2011 by... flower


©Copyright April 2011 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Rhyme | |

An ode to the Unsung Angels

Written on 21st April 2012
By: Sashi. Prabhu (zeauoxian)
(This Ode is dedicated to the Administrative professional / Executive Administrative Assistants/Secretaries.  I dedicate this  to all the unsung champions who have worked selflessly in the shadows to brighten the futures  and then silently steeped away into the twilight of their lives without a ray of expectation in any form.)celebrate 25th april 2012 ,60th anniversary.

You make yourself graciously present from the beginning or start, to align processes and routines you pour out your big heart. No words or action suffice to thank you enough, You stand by and support through thick and thin when times get real rough. Your tips, guidance opinion and advice, are of utmost importance and cannot be gauged by monetary price. You can never be thanked enough, You really help mould your superiors and aid them to take on situations that are all rough. To work without you is sure as hell, In circles of times round and round without progress will superiors dwell. To work with you is a real pleasure, Your honed competencies, skills and ways of problem solving are a treasure. You simply slice the ropes (lengthy time wasting procedures) that curtail us, You battle the winds of change and interruptions for us to be in time to catch destiny’s bus. In the hustle and bustle of daily chores and routines, You execute work with precision by all means. In stormy weather you stand by with great strength for all to see, And when the chips are down you stand tall deep rooted like a tree. Your kind heart and beautiful mind is a combination rare, Every time we saunter or amble to our cabins you are there with a smile filled with care. We really appreciate your kind and generous ways, The order you bring with your overpowering yells and disciplinary displays. You are always there to be a part of a team, And back up everything to bring about into existence everyone’s “dream”. You come to my mind when I think of sharing, You come to my mind when I think of appreciating You come to my mind when I think of giving You come to my mind when I think of forgiving On this occasion would like to thank you once more, For all the things you have done and said open hearted and galore. Thank you so much for supporting and being a beacon of light, And it’s because of people like you many Executive futures have been made bright……..


Details | Romanticism | |

The Beautiful Woman

Beautiful women stridding along
beach front properties
after the cruel april showers have rolled through
damaging and overflooding the hanging geraniums,
and the despise of jealous boys
rolling through hemlock, with trousers stained with sand,
they gaze like dogs looking at a juicy bone,
at the beautiful women, all of them walking hand and hand
singing songs of love, as hummingbirds and nightingales
soar high over their heads, keeping them all company,
all singing songs of love.

Go now, go now, into the gardens of beauty
there you'll find me hinding, waiting
for my beautiful women that spare no glance,
but a quick of a hand I am allowed.
Go now, go now, into the gardens of beauty
pick the red roses that bloom,
and leave the blue violets for the dead.

See the beautiful women, as the jealous boys huddle around me,
we gaze at their beauty and hold our breath,
till they start laughing.
They drink tea, read novels and talk about everything
that matters to naive girls' mind.
We listen and hear their secrets, some horrid
and some unbearable to listen too.

Go now, young boys and stride on
go to the beach front properties
in your straw hats and sandstained trousers
and call unto me, when the beautiful women
come once again striding along.

One beautiful woman I gaze upon
blonde hair, blue eyes
the sweetest of arian races
she wears her flannel, spring dress,
and cottonswab blouse,
she turns to me, hiding in the rose peaker bushes,
she looks at me and smiles.
I hide my emotion and I leave the garden of beauty,
to stride for another day.
To see the young, beautiful girls,
to see that one, that is not hard to spot
the one, like the first rose to bloom
she is not hard to spot.

One day, as I sit in the garden of beauty,
my courage will reign over me
and I shall present myself to her grace
and glorious beauty.
Go now my dear, go now, go to the garden of beauty,
and share your stories and drink your tea in peace;
Pick the ruby roses, but leave the blue violets for the dead,
for I am safe and I am just around the corner.


Details | Free verse | |

The Music of Annisquam.

Here I rest upon the smooth rivers bank 
Resting under the protection of white birch
Tasting the scent of spring on old Cape Ann
As if being reborn in the late April sunshine

Here thoughts and memoirs drift on the current
Washing away on coppery green wave crests
Watched by Snapdragon eyes gently drifting
Wafting in the sweetness of a juniper breeze

A brushed sedate glow of dusk mirroring light
Painting the currents of the Annisquam River
Lying in the peaceful and intrepid stillness
I wonder if I’ve found a moment of perfection

Softly baptized by the tepid evening drizzle
I see the silvery notes fall to break the surface
Playing the sweet libretto of rain and river
A rising crescendo of new life awakening

Here I find peace upon the placid rivers bank
Lost in memory amidst honeysuckle moments
It’s here that my spirit remains eternally young
Ever blossoming in the late April moonlight


Details | I do not know? | |

For Bruce Springsteen

for bruce springsteen...


it was a rain-swept monsoon day

way back then, so many moons away

when i felt the music strumming in my veins

setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins

you sang of simple truths, 

your verse spoke to people just like me

in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night

as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight

'bobby jean' spoke to me

of that girl down the street

glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet

and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart

led me down further roads of thunder

when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on

and never to surrender

to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run

while i danced in the dark 

with memories vivid and stark

even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark

and then a 'human touch' came along

and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song

and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes

as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies

in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned

as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned

and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up

working on a highway of scattered ideals

and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup

well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road

with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad

but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night

just like the ghost of that old tom joad...


Details | Lyric | |

Thoughts That Think

Was thinking long and hard about giving up writing.
Convinced myself that I'm a quitter and there's no sense in fighting
To keep the only thing that kept me far from the edge
But I can't pretend.
Pretend that it isn't my Fortress of Solitude 
That's honoured me with solemn servitude.
That it hasn't helped put me to rest, thought and mind,
By accepting the past on paper and keeping it close behind. 

I was thinking logically and analytically 
Because it seems to be the only thing I'm good at. 
Thinking about everything I've seen and everyone I've fought to keep,
They're all gone now, only to be found in memories. 
They say Poets and Artists are the architects of Heaven
And only they know it's the hardest when no one buys what they're selling. 
No one wants to listen and no one wants to see 
Because everyone's so sure of what you're supposed to be. 

But what are you supposed to do when you've dedicated your life to understanding?
When you can empathize with your brother, but your own sight you can't stand it. 
When you feel that there's a missing piece and so the wholes hurting.
Swim out long past the reef and any safety that you keep to do some soul searching.
Days and months fighting fears, love and tears, digging the hard soil.
Only to find that missing piece you desperately seek is hidden deep beneath. 
When you've found the straw that broke the Camels back
Only to find there's a million more underneath.

What are you supposed to do when you follow the chains
Long past the plains in hopes to break the link.
Kill the ties that bind and have held you for so long,
Only to find there is no ball, you were free all along.
And in your days of darkness with no life to sip or sup
All the hands around your back were never meant to keep you up
And all of those who have kept you down will fight to keep you dancing to their beat.
Any impenetrable man once stabbed in the heart, will crumble with defeat.


Details | I do not know? | |

and I will come

…and I will come.
When the first snow falls down/ 
when the fall gives its rights/ 
to the winter/
you know I will come/
for good or for bad/
I’ll board the train/
Passing by / stations/ and countries/
I promised/ and I remember/
You said “there’s no fortuitous meetings/

…and I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
When you’ll lose the trace/
When my firmest snickers/ wipe out/
I will/ I will come…
Unexpectedly/ knowing solely the door/
Just the road / for sure/
Before/ take you I’ll ask/
“are you ready to go?” / 
You are ready/ I know/
All the noise doesn’t matter/
I don’t haste/ will be later/

…I will come.
When it finally turns out/
That November is overthrown by December/
When the first snow falls down/
Will be clear/ that nobody is remembered/ 

And I will come…
Somewhere in chest/ between ribs/
You slashed me/ with thoughts/ 
I can feel it with lips/ crawling under my cloths/
Our world is alive/ our life/ we’re alike/
And I….

I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
When the death is changed into fate/
When the winter gives up/ 
To wait/ for spring/
to stay with shining sun/
I will come.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

January's Wishes Spoken Through the Dishonesty of April.

Her eyes amused me, slices of January that held April tightly....

she could rain in snow, drop from upside-down skies, and we held tightly to the tears that
only appeared on the opposite side of closet doors as we marked our claim on unusual with
hand prints that never saw the sun.

Two days could have passed underneath us before we blinked, my windows whispered glorious
promises but we kept them closed for safety, for the opposition of who we could be, and
she knew the secret of every season, she knew how to laugh when bedroom doors...

closed.


I drew her behind the mirror and we created October across December stars, we became
disobedient underneath the glorious names we sang that night for lips speak magic when
they pretend to lie and dishonesty was but a kiss away from sunrise.


Time stung me come August, come March, come the age of thirty-two, her eyes had been shut
for years now and she sunk beneath flowers I am positive would be beautiful enough to
photograph had I the courage to glance, but my feet have never crossed the grass that
blankets her and roots her promises...

tangled beneath tomorrow with a tight grasp on yesterday, and I wonder if the days have
yet to fade the color of her hair.


It rained in January when I existed miles away, teardrops of memories that fell as softly
as the whispers of her name, I closed the bedroom door tightly and listened intensely for
the echoes of dishonesty, for she remained there, somewhere, behind mirrors that painted
her and the lies that bit my tongue, that reassured me...


our hand prints would hide from summer...

covered in ice-cream secrets that screamed her pain from a smile, from a foolish wish that
spoke us inseparable.


Her eyes, blue as October, slapped me, that day, as they painted themselves the secrets
girls are never supposed to witness, as they refused to allow April to fall but declared

honesty

with the beauty that she

could never see.




Details | Free verse | |

Junipers, when I was young

Summer came crashing down like a thunderhead 
Hordes of children released from their brick prisons 
My young eyes watched out the passenger window 
Our yard, brown spots and all, I loved it

The way we ran, the sprinkler cackling in the background 
Voices hoarse from delighted screams, evening bubbles by 
Blades of grass stick to my heel, and I dream of junipers 
They line the front of our house, protecting it from monsters 

I want to take that particular green and paint my life with it
Over again, just once more, standing next to the street
Rubbing the needles between my fingers, sticky with life 

The evergreen balm sparkles through my senses 
Stirring up magic and stories about the high sea 

Night time comes and my memory stands tall 
The curtains in my bedroom billow like sails 
And outside, the castle wall still stands 


Details | I do not know? | |

Mora Piya Ghar Aaya - My Beloved Has Returned Home

Mora Piya Ghar Aaya (My Beloved Has Returned Home)

Autumn:


the leaves fell, as you left, a bleak chill wafting across the barren space within my being,
you left, taking your smile and mine,
my smile rests with you still, leaving a void impossible to fill.


Winter:

pangs of longing consumed me, my only company in the frigid nights,
my tears remain frozen, within,
unable to fall from my broken eyes, as I searched the depths of the cold, harsh skies.


Spring:

birds returned home, though you did not, and I felt soothing rebirth all around,
memories of you began blazing, their embers stoked,
and at last the tears rolled, like ink on this blank notebook, my whole being pined for you, my very self in anguish silently shook.


Summer:

alive I felt again, the promise of the coming cooling rain, easing the heat of desire,
yet the furnace slowly raged inside, your absence tearing into me, shattering my nights, my longing for you soaring unfettered across the skies,
dancing on clouds, blissfully free,


Monsoons:

heaven itself opened, the deluge an unending dream,
rain falling all around, mingling with my flowing tears,
and then I saw you, you returned, and I embraced you, never wishing to let you go,
and though I may wear the mask of the clown,
if you were to leave again,
my very soul, would quietly slip away, and in the monsoon rains, I would gratefully drown.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Cut Your Losses

Life is a game of wins and losses,
You must know when to cut yourself off.
Cause I’ve tried to push through, I’ve tried to hold on,
Relentless yet insecure, I was nothing but a pawn.
Now the tide folds over, the season turns from brown to green
I face towards the sun, you’re still all that I see.
But something has changed, your skin is fading,
I smile as I foresee a happy ending.
And so it goes, the saying holds true,
The more time that passes, the more I forget about you.


Details | Free verse | |

Spring

As she lay on her knees
surounded by the these brown clored leaves 
she gazed up high
so high 
it was like she
was floating above
the sky
but a cold breeze 
soon sent
sievers down her spine
shaking it off
she picks up
a dandi lion
she made her wish and threw it
sending it flyinging in the wind
the birds whistling
in sync
she starts to sing
you see
its not autum anymore 
its spring
no more autum leaves
just a  warm summer breeze


Details | Free verse | |

the Lucid songs we sing

What colour is your blues
For it always fails to reach our spring
Adams abreach 
And Eve's the moment 
Our gardens sing

If the stars don't reach for you
At least the sun will greet you
Provides the light that allows smiles to blossum
Illuminates the soil that greens your pigment clean
And on to June Bugs you remain unseen

Did you finally settle that dust that rose
With the winters you miss I grow
It left you at a spring time breaze
Did you roll up your sleeves, fall to your knees 
draked in the soil from which cotton seeds

Did you prick your skin and bleed
Did you lie in a petal of roses and read 
as you gazed upon a sky that refused to die
Did you wish for the frost 
To touch the wind and fall subordinate to the cause

And as April died
You realized how much you hated 
The fact that summer was over rated
Yea as April died
You thought about how much you hated 
The fact that summer was over rated

"songs of a blank season"


Details | ABC | |

easter 2014

I watched them drag him away
We all watched  as they dragged him  down the road
I was angry and sad
I couldn’t bear to look upon his bruised face
I remember him too well
He forgave me
I was termed an adulteress 
And was brought before him for judgment
But he shunned my accusers
And he gave me a second chance
And now I am helpless to help
I thought they would protest
They all loved him yesterday
But they wanted blood
 it was like a free show
I turned away, fell on my face and wept
I watched them flog him
I watched them bruise him
And I prayed
I prayed so fervently
That He would take the life of all of them
All of them who betrayed
All the soldiers that so eagerly whipped and mocked
My heart was bitter and heavy
I only prayed he won't suffer
But he suffered
 
Suffered from their betrayal
Suffered because they loved him no more
And as they put the crown of thorns on his head
I cried out
I stood there till he breathe his last breath
Watching him
And when he said "forgive them"
That was all I heard but I felt like he saw me
Through all the shouting and chanting
I felt like he saw only me
I felt like he was speaking to me and I turned away
I rent my clothes unbelieving of his love for these people
I felt the earth quake and heard the stories
I wept wondering what would be left of the earth
But somehow I knew he would come back

At first it was just grief
I refused to believe him dead
But then the rumors came
The messiah has risen
I thought it was the wicked that had come to taunt us
But I heard the story from John
About a free ticket  to heaven
And I took it without a second thought
He is the reason I sing
So let me celebrate Easter
Let me celebrate love, resurrection and grace


Details | Blank verse | |

Easter 2013

What can be said? 
About the treachery of the justice system
Filling the jury with haters of the accused
His crimes not specified
But fury radiates from the eyes of the jury
They say his crimes are numerous
But I sit there watching
Fully aware of their deceit
After all I am not part of this sham
Yet I can’t help the guilt that creeps into me
Because I jeer as he is pronounced guilty
Stupid Nazarene I say to myself
And I watch him die
Even though his innocence is clear as crystal
With one last breath I hear him say
“Forgive them”
Forgive who, me… Not possible
I am a righteous man
It is he who is to be forgiven
But as I watch the veil tear in two
 The throne room once sacred defiled
My heart stops 
Even the earthquake seems distant
I fear for I have heard this prophecy before
Foretold by the prophet of old times
Oh, oh, my life is finished
How could I not see the truth in his words?
And there on a tree is a rejected king
The messiah to be exalted crucified
Now his father will avenge him
In his fury he will spare not one
How can I stand his wrath?
Oh me, a foolish scholar
For I have been trained in his principles
Studied his laws day and night
I know his pries and his histories
But with my very own hand
I have crucified him that came to deliver
I must spend my last days in shame
Shame at my actions, foolishness, treachery
¬master, oh master come¬
Shut up you jester
Do you not see our impending doom?
¬ Master we must rejoice
For the tomb is empty
He has risen
You must come for he welcomes everyone¬
Oh, I must run to him
For he has risen to glory
He had disregarded the order of death
And claimed kingship over life and death
He has handed me the keys
So many years after
It’s today, the day of my salvation
And I remember it like yesterday
Happy Easter