Apr Poems - Poems about Apr

Limbs - Apr 28

Crick, Crack,Pop!,—“Ow!”, ach… won’t my joints of ache
never relent? The tension—every move—
with each attempt to loose—a rigid groove—
my muscles,—all efforts to simply break

the pressure,—ayayaye,so,taut—,to shake
free my body, to feel the strain improve,
I’ve tried to stretch myself  so   to    remove
the overwhelming cramps and pangs, which rake

my shambling corpse.—But ill I

Recordance - Apr 30

A slivered moon is looming peacefully
above the pristine glow of golden dusk,
bathing in a navy sky,—me?, I bask
in her gush of seraphic majesty. 

A careful look, cast in serenity, 
reveals the silent shadow of her disk;
the sunless face wears a dark veil. Her mask
gazes upon me,—in return, I see 
 
the full splendor of her

Montreal - Apr 29

O’ Mother!, take me back at last, receive
—(unclasped arms as vast as mine)—my embrace;
this longing, laughing love, the proof and grace
of my abiding for your shores.—I grieve 

the lasting loss that shear struck—do believe
my grave and groveling art of disgrace,—
when ten years had but barely found their place
in my life. As with you then, now

So Long! - Apr 26

Your needs unmet and, too, mine equally
fulfilled,—I s’pose it’s best to leave this where
it stands.—what other course could feel as fair?
But deep disturbances in mon esprit,

increasingly violent unto me,
(as roaring winds and foaming omens) stir
tidal wave emotions without compare;—
breaking—in terrific fatality. 

My heart adrift,—stranded soon on your shore,—
beats weak, throbs sad sobs, sniffles back such

Suture - Apr 25

The subtle thread which mends a laceration
is woven through fresh, tender flesh to bind
disreconciled horizons, disentwined
by words sharper than the knives of damnation.

Then, even once that painful separation
is closed, there’s still so much left to attend
to,—wash the wound, put bandages, amend
echoes saddled with righteous indignation. 

A stitch is but the means of tying tight
the gasping

Repetitions - Apr 24

I’ve come to—k(now), the sobering conclusion
that I must be a lunatic; else what
sufficiently explains the smirking smut
clouding my judgment?—what viscous illusion—

outright{(diagnosable[,perhaps)delusion]},—
persuades me to heed your haughty strut?
Each inch of every corner of my gut
is begging—not—accept—refuse—intrusion.

ah!, but I budge, I give in to temptation!
why,why,why must I make the same mistake
instead of just quite well so simply

Rupture - Apr 22

Attempt, attempt, attempt, I try, I do,
but find success a frightful,fretful sort 
of creature.—.landing always just so short
for you,—my victories?: far less than few.

From void to verse then verse now void,—but you
reject my voice,else’y*u[ / , u ]d*stort
it, and to good will ill intent impart;
My inspiration, skewered by your view,

lies fallow in your lap.—Tell, what’s

Another Sonnet - Apr 21

A(nother) (Sh*tty) Sonnet

Cute girl who works the local liquor store
counter, I wonder sometimes how I strike
you.—am I happy in your eyes?—do you like
to speak, when daily, as a steady chore,

I stroll onto your heavenly sales floor? 
(You said it was another day (yes fake)
‘in paradise’, in answer to my joke.—
—and then I left with my

Plagued by Memories - Apr 18, 19

how long and sourly sobs the lonely heart
depends on how grave the weight which grieves the tears
pouring from the despondent spirit’s pores.—
a witness, too, will know the surly sort

of rain that beats down harshly on the court
called Sorrow Drive.—sure seems like nothing cheers
up the—nor nothing soothes the—nasty fears
nesting in somber nooks.—no, only art

comes close to

Darn - Apr 17

O’ dear, I learned today you’re spoken for;
I asked the question, got the answer: “no”.
Ayayaye…but, considering the blow
wasn’t so bad, I’m glad I tried to score.

Oh dear,—(I must admit)—you know what’s more?,
you’ve snatched the beauty right out from this low
world; o’ diamond, why must you hoard it so?
All other charms have lost their glow, they

The Nightmare of Subjectivity - Apr 16

The lady looking up had said that “good
was bad” and then had added, “all was well”;
Tripped up on his feet, and after her fall,
she who was glad was then made madly sad. 

But the man stooping down from where he stood
replied that “bad was good” and “well was all”;
Though with his words he’d made the

iMan - Apr 13

Observe the modern generations walk
on by; they suckle from the plastic teat
of coffee cups, and stumped by stamping feet
they shamble unaware from flock to flock.—

infant adults—if earnest I may speak;
Look there: one loops in circles (a grand feat!) 
and, as if an ornithological suite,
the gaggle shuffles behind,—“squawk squawk squawk!”

Yikes… I suppose that if I ran

Ode to Destruction - Apr 14

Though matter may not be destroyed, the form
must be deformed; absolute fluidity
demands—with absolute rigidity—
that bonds made break free from an unstable frame.—

Erratic molecules and particles swarm
beyond the confines of lucidity;
But we, in stupor (and stupidity),
(poor things), give to fluidity a name…

I mean to say: Destruction is a must!
For,—given that something new’s to be built—,
creation draws

Intoxicant - Apr 12

Love sends a signal (so intangible)
through time removed and space—more faraway
than high heavens, sun, spark of moody day
when Night her might has made immoveable. 

The bold heart beats, but shyly (:¡magical!:)
hides a gross ache—(perhaps gone quite astray)—
of love destroyed by space and time. A ray
has passed and left behind a palpable

shadow.—but time’s the healer, space

Some Where - Apr 12

Toppled by a bottle, collapsed upon
her painful past, asleep—but well awake!—,
unmoving, but for her mind stirred aquake,
the girl is yawning before her black dawn.

Alone, couched by a burning blanket drawn
over a conscience guilty at the stake,
slipping into the sly hands of the snake,
she sees not clearly the sickening con

which lures her slowly to her deathly

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