They may come and go says Samael, so sayeth the wiccan prince who some say too ushers in hell, but hell is reserved for the iniquitous and the evil, where tortured until they are ash, is the only white steeple, the comely few who verily detest when mothball mouths are not cottonmouth bassets the silly strummed up wheat, which pervades the day when the heat is nigh on noon complete, the southern seer, grampy to some, has black boys and girls this Samael sung.
Life is a court and I am its jester
A miserable comic with a knack for obsolescence
The bells on my hat draw disgraceful attention
To the tasks I cannot juggle
And the knives I cannot dodge
And yet, I make them laugh
If only at my misery
At least I can’t say
I’m nobody’s fool.
Healing and dealing
Stealing and reeling
Feeling the feeling
Wheelies down the spillway
Three’s a thrill
Another bill
Still...
I will!
Chill, with the window sill,
Skilled at raiding the mills,
Tilled until everyone who wants a chance can dance until-
The rest are nil haikus 4 reiki suing spells four ewe
I’ll hang with Jill ... s
the green rain splashes
into muddy field water-
hope's cultivation
April rain comes hastily,
unexpectedly, like the fleeing rogues of
flaming, crackling farms, clattering on the
roofs of waylaid shelters on
the roads of banishment —
uncompromised,
singing light songs from a
heavy-storming sky band, grey and grieving.
Follow in the footsteps of April rain —
so light, so infrequent, and cautious,
though it rains down thin spikes of
frazzled water, young and ravenous,
for the initiation of roaming soils.
The stanza was written in trailed off silver, circle over circle was wound to form silvery words, embossed around them though the palace sheltered paintings of razor-thin wings bespeckled with blood imprisoned sonnets that zip and fly with the hub, palatial and so endearing, the disembodied whispers are like paint peeling.
If there were love in the world, we would see everyone smiling, brothers loving their brothers sincerely.
Look at everything happening in this world, the acts of violence tearing it apart.
If love reigned over the whole earth, our children would lay down their warrior weapons and return to school.
Look at all those who have fled their countries to seek refuge elsewhere, and those orphans deprived of their parents. The food crises shaking the world.
Nevertheless, you and I know that one day, we will meet again in a wonderful paradise. Far from all this suffering and misfortune. There, you and I will reside in joy, absolute happiness, justice, peace, and love. What a magnificent hope to cling to! ???
It’s hard to accept the character
Which you aren’t meant to
It’s useless to accept mistakes
When you haven’t committed
Sometimes chunks of emotion
ruin your dignity and self esteem
It’s better to withstand it
Controlling overflow of it
Well, it’s Preety obvious
You know who you are
So it’s unworthy
Explaining your character
Those who knows you
Obviously won’t lay a finger on you
So, it’s better
Maintaining a gap with those peoples
I know sometimes
It’s hard to keep distance
between loved ones
but sometimes those solutions
Fix many misunderstandings and problems
I asked the sky at night,
where is the star that once was mine.
The sky replied in dejection,
the star that once held your affection,
now lives in the street of your heart,
where road are yours but path belongs to her heart.
Spring in the Valley
Spring breeze’s whisper through the hills,
Lavender wisteria spills
Over a mossy granite stone.
Air thick with heavy lilac fills,
Spring breeze’s whisper through the hills,
hanging on quiet valley stills,
Where lazy shadows creep alone.
Spring breeze’s whisper through the hills,
Lavender wisteria spills.
New Hampshire winters
late October arrival
Snow, snow, snow, snow
raw survival
More and more, just piled on
grand for winter sports
if you are a ‘winter sport’…
Come mid-April, Boston's alive with flowers
but up there in New Hampshire
no such revival
~ snow gone viral
With the heaviest heart,
I start feeling so lonely:
it's almost dusk,
I head back home,
staring at the church's dome
under which God
united us never to be apart;
Good Heavens,
I'm beginning to cry!
This April's rainfall
imitates my cold tears
running down my cheecks,
we aren't together
as we should :
our foolisheness took us
to the starngest plaeces:
it wasn't a wrong turn, indeed!
Who's to blame, where's the guilt?
Shouldn't we admit it?
Our pictures hang on every wall,
flashing smiles, drawing doubts;
we sworn faithfulness ,
not wanting ever to fall!
Were devoters or fakers?
Were we trustworthy, or simply unworthy?
This April's rainfall imitates
my cold tears,
no consolation is found
in loneliness:
I have more miles to go,
I'm feeling the chill
in these bones:
a half thought is not
close to a whole!
As i saw the world fall apart
I saw the flowers lose their
Spark i saw the water take
Over the flowers fall i saw
The world fall apart the
World lost it Spark
The Demon Sabotage told Demon Camouflage and I heard him very clear
If there’s a known premonition of death then it’s very near
I come to you.
I come baring mind and soul.
Kneeling in your presence.
Begging to feel your presence.
Begging for you to quiet my mind and soul, which roar like a storm raging at sea.
Sitting in silence, feeling your presence like rays of sun—
Warmth and comfort.
What was once a normal inhale and exhale now releases a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying until I no longer carry it.
You quiet my mind and soul,
Just as you calm the sea with your divine command.
You renew my soul.
April Categories
Definition | What is April in Poetry?
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