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Pyrrha Oct 11
You took the Sanderson sisters seriously
When they said "I put a spell on you"
You were there taking detailed notes
For the day our eyes would meet
Because since yours met mine
I've been living inside a trance
An endless dream
Where you ask me my name
And I give you my number
But April love
I can work some magic too
I can make the seasons change
And I'll have time stand on it's head
I will take your breath away
Just like you did to me
When you walked my way
I will steal your heart with my words
I'll keep you captive in my heart
And lock you there with my lips
I met a Girl at earthbound and she doesn't know it but I love her 👀👄👀
Sha Aug 18
You say we could laugh and be merry tomorrow.
How funny and stupid at the same time.
The world laughed yesterday and cried today,
We cried today so maybe we can laugh next.
written on April's fools
Cox May 27
You may be human, but you’re also a flower.
You hold so much power as you walk through April,
no avail.
Head risen.
Petals curtly tucked away.
A rush.
Heart closed.
Walking past the naked trees,
you shiver from the Autumn breeze.
You wait for Spring,
although knowing you haven’t met winter.
You think that this year your heart will freeze.
Aleka May 26
I’m awake,
Once again,
By the touch,
Of the wind in my skin
In this new month of April

The flowers blossom,
Their colors mesmerize me,
Every tone,
Every shade,
They captivate me.

I contemplate the plants, with a scent of bitter-sweetness,
While some bloom,
And others wither,
In an endless cycle.

The fauna and flora,
Announce once again,
With their songs, dances and colors,
The sunrise of spring,
In this new month of April.

After the dreadful silence of winter,
I can hear the sweet singing of the birds
And the sound,
Of the wind dancing with the leaves:
A spring melody...

I observe these creatures,
So graceful, yet so fragile.
They swing through the sky,
Synchronizing their movements with the wind,
As if they were ballerinas.

At the end of this month of April,
I fall asleep,
Once again,
While these tiny singers,
Recite their lullaby.
This was an assignment I did last year, and I kind of liked how it turned out.
We had to do a poem about a word, and mine was April.
Rose Albireo May 21
Picking, lacy clouds from April skies
to make a bouquet of wildflowers,
I get tired of leaning and think of was

Disappointed,
since when did I decide to
hide myself behind insincerity?  

Made, my wish come true
by writing one more poem on
dull riots of burning willows

Distraught,
twice-born within
seven days of this in a hotel
of days like a passing shadow

Pitied, myself for being so
for having such a weak
and childish heart  

Humm, in the marketplace  
I patiently pick out the perfect
moments from a basket of kiwis

Surprised, by ten years roamed
of letting days go idly by
while I stay perfectly still

Faithless,  
compiling my work
of brushing grass and prose,
not caring anymore about fame

Mindless, my shutter snaps
another beautiful day that’s mine
and I quickly pin it on my wall

Wending,
without a word,
I fall from April skies
Robert Ronnow May 11
The moon gazes
through April’s silver maple.

To work, to drive,
to drive to work.

Earth's half-in, half-out
of the sun’s habitable zone.

The rushing stream topples old trees;
the peaceful father, mother.

Powerful with eternity,
blinding with intensity.

Zazen position,
necking in the front seat.

Lazy, happy,
mirror, desert.

Moderation, persuasion, elections.
Way stations, stopgaps, safe havens.

Cheap jewelry can be ****;
stop fixing things with duct tape!

Humor is the only remedy,
not to hate those in authority.

And ritual is remedy,
a death song.

Nothing but matter matters,
chipmunk, groundhog, skunk.

Do not provoke
an angry baboon.

Why care about the future,
the dead don’t live to see it.

I’ve come to see
if this is true.
"Events will still pile up, with or without an identity willing to organize them.”  --Rachel Cusk
LRF Apr 28
Lemon and orange skins
cling to green
and the remnants
of a summer drag on
staving off
fruiting frosts.

Foliage stems snake upwards
breaking manicured canopies
luxuriating in the last rays of warmth
in April days,

Before,
from the pale layers of autumn skies,
sunset descends
as a softening of leafy silhouettes,
a blurring of edges,
a pink blush behind a drifting clouds;

A quiet slip
into autumn’s
evening cool.
April, 2020

A tribute to Bruce Dawe's '**** Suburbiensis': https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/****-suburbiensis/
Moth Apr 27
springtime, new growth will begin
wind chimes ring through the trees
the flowers bloom to feed the bees

go out now, feel the sun on your skin
let the grass rush under your bare feet
listen, hear your pattering heart beat
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