Sonnet April Poems | Sonnet Poems About April

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

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April Fawn

Longing in lowly light of longer days
by which a summer wilts paternal dreams
and browns the loitered heaves of yellow spring:

the budding void that stamps an empty swing
seen swaying golden locks ungated beams
my own Begotten streamed in greener dawn
where fussy forums for an April fawn

allay no muttered march on mother’s May.

Persistent blades unsheathe the sprawling grass
beneath the blue release of silver dew -
an inch overgrown, as inch shrouded cool
billows: arisen reeds from dizzied drool
showing flashes of reincarnation
cured by the rose (or purple carnation)

4/4/17

Copyright © Phillip Garcia | Year Posted 2017


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A SONNET OF LIFE



   A SONNET OF LIFE
   (Apropos The Children I Know)

Act your age my darling little child;
Take care not to go about in blinded haste.
Enjoy this lovely life for a while;
Time is elusive and you have none to waste.

Listen, candy does not always last very long;
Can be as hard as rock, yet melts as easy as ice:
Teases your tongue with sweetness and then its gone;
Leaving you wading the emptiness of something once nice.

Yes, when you are young, innocent and very sweet,
This old life can throw many enticing things you way:
Making you think that it’s all good and life is always neat;
But be aware my child, life has her debts we all are bound to pay. 

For just as the night must surly turn into another day;
You my child, like me, will eventually grow old and gray.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

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Time

I want to say good night
But its night as yet to you
I can see darkness now
If maybe you never left

I have to say good night
Darkness has defeated me
Only your love can resurrect me
I am afraid to go now
But I have to go and live under the shads
Love me to my silent place

Good night when you see the moon
Flower me with roses from abandon garden 
Cover me with what i was and be now
Good night sleep with elevated power

Copyright © Zakhe Michael Mcunu | Year Posted 2014


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Heavens Art

You my precious precious thing
You I would have to wear my ring
Upon your finger you would
Wear a crown
And in thou service
I'd humbly bow
Kneel before you with my heart
Holding sacred all thou art
Holy would be my love so true
Given so faithfully unto you
And when reminded
Of your hand so dear
And the vision of my ring
So clear
And the arm that wears the hand
With the body with which
It stands
And the head so beautiful still
That captures all my ways
And will
With the eye's that stole
My heart
And the smile with which
My soul departs
Keep me and my unseen parts
Upon your hand and in your heart
Take my soul where ever thou art
Into heaven the deepest part
And never let our souls be apart
Made in heaven as heavens art

Heart

Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2014

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forgotten sex

Forgotten sex
As we were eating an omelette with tomatoes 
I asked my wife if we ever had sex because I had
difficulties in remembering it or rather picture it.
She said yes and said I was quite good at it which
was flattering like being a good driver, I was once
offered a job as taxi-driver but said no too boring.
Then slowly I remembered something I had to
do late at night when I would rather read a book
as there was no TV back then.

I remember it as a sweaty embrace, the fumbling
and the ridiculous positions and then to be careful
pumping along till she was ready and at ease.
She wanted to sleep close to me her hair in my face
and I was thinking if lucky it will take a week before
I had to do something with her peculiar needs.

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2015

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snowfall in April

Snowfall In April 

 The snowflakes that fell this morning were big 
and descended slowly and with sadness they knew
that this was the wrong time of the year – April- and 
the morning sun will melt then into oblivion and
water that would fill ditches already overflowing.
Ejected, the mother cloud was too heavy to get over
the mountain and a million snowdrops were scarified
so the cloud could sail to the tundra in Siberia.

One million volunteers, first there had been a pause,
but a few thousand walked forward others followed.
They got a blessing a white miniature cloud each and
a promise that one day they would be reborn as flurry
on the South Pole, a mass wedding of snowdrifts and 
they would never be alone again  

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2015

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Thunder Gives Its Preceding Applause

Thunder Gives Its Preceding Applause

The Rain gifts blessings multi-fold,
aided by its sister Wind, earth reaps.
Bounties plentiful, harvests gold ,
as into awaiting soil it seeps.

Fields cry for the coming spray,
showers sent to man and beast.
If withheld we begin to truly pray,
so that we live and may have a feast.

Echoes in Heaven announce the Rain,
thunder gives its preceding applause.
A gift, same as in our births pain,
we must conform to Nature's laws.

Skies above gift this blessing down.
Upon earth's thirsty, waiting gown.

Robert J. Lindley, 07-18-2015

Note- 
Nature's gift, this bounty we receive,
Gods love, even as Satan deceives
Look up to give returning praise,
for from death only He was ever raised...

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

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BLOSSOMS AND BUBBLES

Elisa is very beautiful and young,
but her silly mind isn't that strong;
yesterday she marked age thirty
on her calendar not feeling gritty.
In a lively garden with blooming April flowers,
she blows big bubbles that float low and high
inducing much gladness much in her sigh...
will they clash with those intruding butterflies? 
" No, they surely won't, "she whispers looking as far
as her eyes can see, imagining one that resembles a star
which she can look upon in her loneliness when moonlight
brightens her room and desire for kisses take away all fright.
Elisa watches her fragile bubbles burst at the sun's brightness, 
but surprisingly one doesn't...soaring further into remoteness.   



Written on 4/5/2015

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2015

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OUR CHRISTMAS CAROLERS

         OUR CHRISTMAS CAROLERS
Come list my dear to Christmas, tis the sound
of childrens voices ringing soft and dear
it brings to mind that hope may still be found
within a world that lives in constant fear

oh what a change the world's been going through
since first we met one winters Christmas eve
and all I ever had, the gift of you
was all I ever needed to believe

that peace on earth would be all of our days
and now just hear these children sing along
perhaps we judge them harshly, in some ways
for don't they seem the picture of their song?

   And as their sounds warm to the heart of me  
   I pray this is the way their world will be.
© Ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2013

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a sea bird

 A The Sea Bird 
During the occupation of Norway when many fled to 
Sweden or England the new generation has forgotten that
in their hatred of refugees. 
I remembered a seabird called Alke which was snared
It was a big bird and needed hours to cook and served with 
boiled potatoes and brown gravy which I liked
but I was not keen on the bird it tasted of cod-liver oil 
but had to eat some meat usually through tears and mother 
hitting me over the head with a wooden spoon. 

After the war and little work in factories, the alke was hunted to 
near extinction, luckily it was saved in time.
The Norwegians see the world through a fog of self- inflicted fear  
feel inundated by a few migrants, 
now that the oil price has fallen they would like to see the newcomers, 
like the alke, become a rarity   

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2016

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the day of the dead

The day of The Dead. 

 The cemetery in Loule is on top of a hill, today
early spring the steep hillside is full of luscious 
yellow flowers. Not like ripe lemons, more like 
Swiss butter, from the rich milk of cows will bells
and horns; sturdy feet able to carry big, rose-pink 
udders and be milked by smiling maidens with 
strong arms creamy white as a Valkyrie’s bosom 

What you didn’t see- all this life- when blinded
by the intensity of every sun lit flower came
 from a rotting coffins, the few day in early spring 
when the dead are let out, sway on a hillside and 
soak up the sun.

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2015

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summer island

The summer Island
On the island in the fjord where we use to go bathing
there is now a bridge over, a parking lot and you have to pay.
There are toilets- no peeing behind a bush- and kiosk selling 
soft drinks and cigarettes, asphalted lanes to walk on and 
signs, plenty of them, telling you what you cannot do
Last time I was here with my aunt and her lover the island 
had bunkers and rusty iron bits from a long bitterly cold war.

A marina had been built and had a restaurant but you needed 
to be a member and wear a blazer with golden buttons and
a white sailor cap; they resented local bathers it was no longer 
a place for us workers, they strive to make life better but end 
up privatising what used to be free  

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2017

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summer island

The summer Island
On the island in the fjord where we use to go bathing
there is now a bridge over, a parking lot and you have to pay.
There are toilets- no peeing behind a bush- and kiosk selling 
soft drinks and cigarettes, asphalted lanes to walk on and 
signs, plenty of them, telling you what you cannot do
Last time I was here with my aunt and her lover the island 
had bunkers and rusty iron bits from a long bitterly cold war.

A marina had been built and had a restaurant but you needed 
to be a member and wear a blazer with golden buttons and
a white sailor cap; they resented local bathers it was no longer 
a place for us workers, they strive to make life better but end 
up privatising what used to be free  

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2017

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April

Twenty one years ... what lesson was learned?
Three countries, five states, and thousands of faces,
triumphs and terrors, to be lauded and spurned,
yearning to please those I love and stay in God's graces—

then: chases, disgraces, getting lost in strange places,
seeing always the heavens through slips in the spaces. 

First I was dreaming, of the world, everything. 
Then I was steaming, a machine of success,
for failure was too frightening to see face to face. 
So strange how guilt and fear are engines, unmatched, 
in producing the highest of honors and praise. 

Love is still a fantasy I once read in books,
though my family is my stronghold, my root, and my pride. 

Creation was my delight. Was it fueled by self-oppression? 
Is there any pure desire that the wise men call higher?
Perhaps I chose struggle with a mind that the fire,
would take me to ashes and leave nothing left,
except my words, whatever those are worth. 
I once thought something of them. 
It's easy to do.
To pretend that out of billions,
you're so special, too. 

Once in my heart I believed that. 
Or at least my doubt was too deep to confuse.
Yet I found others didn't vaunt me as I did,
and I was too vain to win, and too strong, still, to lose. 

And in darkness I've stumbled some steps, let me fly!
I know there's much left to do; don't ask why.
My lesson is strange, but all mysteries are. 
The more energy given, the more we receive.
The inverse, so intuitive, I know now to deceive. 

April 13, 2017

Copyright © J. I. Thomas F. | Year Posted 2017

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Heart Songs


Remembering in Spring green blades of grass
Fresh breath of dawn gently does touch our face
A rhyme for ev'ry flower full of grace
When butterflies tiptoe on sassafras
There is a song for ev'ry nightingale
That sings our songs of love the whole day through
Chorused by nestlings tan and brownish, too
Heartbeat's rhythm they're dancing with their tails
Standing beneath a tree, remembering
Listen as the brook sings its melody
As foliage writes sonnets in chemistry
First day we met, a certain day in Spring.
We hold hands as we listen and wonder
How we came to know and love each other.

Copyright © Maricris Cabrera | Year Posted 2017

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A Wish for April

Your song resists the lyrics mine proclaims
by measured whispers begging Autumn’s reign

not drown this season with unreasoned pain
nor hobble Winter leaving April lame.

Just as the wick betrayed by yellow flame;
I feel a waning candle nearly slain;

reduced to nothing but a hopeless stain
in empty darkness where the strained are tamed.

And though the morning sun surrenders red
upon an apple by the skylark’s song -

don’t shadows lengthen as it glides along
until once more the naked fall is dead?

Such are the mournful notes my lips undress,
while wishing yours on mine again would press.

Copyright © Phillip Garcia | Year Posted 2017

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April

There came a cloud like lady,
Down onto the sea,
Mistily clothed she came to me,
All about me I could see.

She told of things I wished to know,
Displaying things she wished to show,
She said of places we could go
And there we'd watch more clouds grow.

Twigs and rocks and shells we found,
Softly music drifted all around,
And flowering trees and plants abound
With fruits, and grass covering the ground.

A dream perhaps this may be,
I'll only have to wait and see.

Copyright © Wm Paul | Year Posted 2012

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Burning desire

My mind race back and forth 
I close my eyes, yet you plague my thought 
A thief, stealing my meditation 
Invading my mind all day long.

Could it be because of your sweet tender voice?
That still rings in my head 
Or because, you, a colourful rose sprung in April?
Standing tall and gorgeous.

I love your self believe and confidence 
And your sparkling white thirty-two 
A statuesque beauty with attractive vanities 
My arms are open wide... 

While I painfully await your return,
Remember "Crash and burn" whilst we are apart.



*Crash and Burn by Salvage Garden

Copyright © Adebayo Abass Olalekan | Year Posted 2017

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Sonnet 37

My love is plain, no color blue her eyes.
Yes, nothing seems blonde on her female hair.
Her walking the word heavy magnifies.
Not many those who give to her eye-care.
And when she smiles, her teeth not thought a pearl;
Her face no painter`s dream. no April moon.
Her lashes are quite short and zero curl.
You`ll never find her voice delightful tune.
But I see her eyes not, but with my heart.
And, then, yes lucky me! Guess what I see!
A thing immense; yes greater than. lo, art;
Her nature good, her goodness high degree.
    The beauty of the eyes time destroy yes surely.
    My love is fair inside, other are lowly.

Copyright © Luis Estable | Year Posted 2017

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April

 


As gypsy winds ensnare the inner child
with jasmine blossoms scenting up the air
and spring’s inspiring rebirth...nature’s wild
awakening, replenishing what’s bare.
Azalea smiles in colors, lilacs peak
while inner child is laughing, full of glee.
Each day a new discovery to seek
around the country edges growing free.
Yet dusty pollen layers budding leaves,
encoded sinuses respond in kind.
The beauty, allergies and Kleenex sleeves
for sneezes, teary eyes but hopeful mind.
So little pill from heaven do your stuff,
desensitize the pollen’s sneezy snuff.

Copyright © Janet Vick | Year Posted 2017