"aprils" poems
1042
Spring comes on the World—
I sight the Aprils—
Hueless to me until thou come
As, till the Bee
Blossoms stand negative,
Touched to Conditions
By a Hum.
4.6k
Aprils fresh teardrops
Brings a placid and lulling
Sensual melody
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
It was April when you came
The first time to me,
And my first look in your eyes
Was like my first look at the sea.
We have been together
Four Aprils now
Watching for the green
On the swaying willow bough;
Yet whenever I turn
To your gray eyes over me,
It is as though I looked
For the first time at the sea.
1.6k
January’s woman melts the snow.
February’s woman is good to go
March she blows like the wind
Aprils woman is sad then warmingly glad
May the shackles are off
June in bed till noon
July love on the beach
August same woman, roll on september
September’s woman is petite and coy
October is comfort and joy
November’s woman is fireworks, this is the one
December’s woman is ice cold, she’s just found out what i've being doing for the last eleven months and wants a divorce.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 1:53 PM UTC
How many million Aprils came
Before I ever knew
How white a cherry bough could be,
A bed of squills, how blue!
And many a dancing April
When life is done with me,
Will lift the blue flame of the flower
And the white flame of the tree.
Oh burn me with your beauty, then,
Oh hurt me, tree and flower,
Lest in the end death try to take
Even this glistening hour.
O shaken flowers, O shimmering trees,
O sunlit white and blue,
Wound me, that I, through endless sleep,
May bear the scar of you.
1.2k
April is a liar,
baptizing you with tears, tears.
April tells you pretty nothings
as it pours down on your already drenched and pale face.
"Patience dear, better things will come."
When will its tide retreat?
When will you be able to loosen your grip
on the window ledge above its raging ocean?
"Patience dear, better things will come."
Aprils tidal wave swirls around you
and locks your bones into place.
When will its sea part?
"Patience dear, better things will come."
...but April darling,
I've already drowned.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 7:42 PM UTC
Stagnancy living
in colorless morning.
sunflower sunshine disconsolate
the rooster sings
eulogies and clamored verses
ringing alarm bells in cockcrow
cough drone weary eyes
dew-tied memories of
reverie weepy
aching legs and chest pains
cotton cozied pills crashing
underneath plastic caps
prescription taps
Tylenol Benzedrine
relapse body thinning
cities wearing
ergonomic tragedies
encircling business quarter
daffodil rooftops
steady rain descending onto
varnished sidewalks.
Addicts pirouette dazzled the
hazed-minds dreaming of
Aprils and consistent harmonious
ecstasy visions stampeded
by the brickwork flickered with
lamplight demons overcast this illusory Babylon
trembling flesh retreats into the shadows it came
and nightmares remain similar to days before and after.
Recycled horrors lightning flash abhorrent death
whether they be wearing black suits or black robes
scythe or satchel the wide eyes scour gaunt alleys
for fixes to fix the monotonous life bewitched
with false material variety anxiety deity
Desecration City express way to depression
oppressed people hide away in simultaneous acts of
camouflaging fireballs
spiraling into decadence.
Diamond days few and far between
communal woe reverberates through skins
and skeletons in opening of top story windows
during Winter. Despite the fragrance chaos,
pandemic paranoia,
extinguishing elation,
All bodies continue to be
alone.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
Forgive and forget
Is a lesson I have yet
To teach myself
Forgiving Is letting go of the anger
And the disappointment
I seldom hold onto
Each day
Wondering why it happened
Going back in time
Trying to figure out
Where I went wrong
Maybe it was back in October
When the season was changing
And so were you
Asking for space
Because I no longer had a place
Like the leaves
Falling from the trees
Or maybe it was in December
When the year was coming to an end
And you had found a secret friend
To spend a night with
Saying it was an accident
Or was it in January
When I had betrayed your trust
From some stupid act of lust
Trading a lifetime of happiness
For a single moment of weakness
I go back and forth
Trying to remember
To somehow
Put out the last of these forsaken embers
Making sense of these last months
I go crazy with self-hate
Realizing all my past mistakes
Disgusted at myself
For letting you down
For not being around
When you needed me most
Losing your beloved dog,
Who was your best friend.
Missing a birthday,
Missing your first day at a new job
Missing your parents seperation
Missing you.
Missing you
And thinking there was still hope
That I could change
And make this work
But to do that
I have to forgive
And forget
And not let
The past come back
To haunt me
To haunt you
To haunt us
To realize I can move on from this
And live a life
Like the ones you read
From happily ever afters’
With the act of a true loves kiss
And make it go away
I will forgive
And I will forget
And maybe itll be In February
When love is in the air
When chocolate candies and giant stuffed bears
Scream out to the world
That someone loves me enough
To spend money on mushy hallmark card
That anyone could write
Maybe itll be in April
On Aprils fools day
Cause only fools fall in love
And we both know
I’m the biggest fool of them all
Or maybe itll be in May
During Cinco de Mayo
The day it all went down
Realizing that 3 years ago
We promised to make it work
No matter what
Promising though thick and thin
that we would get past
our devilish sins
And I want to tell you now
Looking back
That forgiving and forgetting
Will be the best thing
I ever did
Because you are worth it
Because you are worth more
Than self hate and past mistakes
Worth more than a lifetime of regret
And I promise you
I will forgive and forget.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
I never wipe my face when I cry
I let each salt water stream warm my cheek
Burn every tied connection between you and me
I let my tears pour over the bruised heartstrings
As if they were saline solution to a cut
I let my tears cleanse me of you
I let them blurry your image and memories we shared
Until I can’t recognize your false promises
I let my tears heat me like a furnace
When tonight’s loneliness is too cold to bare
With these tears I can stop empty dreaming
And give you back all of your unkept “forever’s”
So tomorrow’s happiness is rewarding
Like a fresh bloom after aprils showers
I will never wipe away my tears..
And I will heal with no bandage
Mar 8, 2022
Mar 8, 2022 at 2:49 AM UTC
[ as the knot finds the noose, the night ]
full of dead Aprils and lilac fumes, marjoram rhinestones and the ****** cinders of delight
over charmed by lightning, nocturnal passions of a dire hope suspended in hopeless plight
ornate cups as fragile as a poisonous thought made of human love
sworn enemies sipping tea from intangible ceramics, their black silk gloves
gleaming in the twilight apocalypse of surrender, at war with wisdom
in mad gardens of eden,
two dragons horde stars enough to confound astronomy
and arguments
that hold for every possible lie, sustaining the hypotheses of heaven
in orbit of a void
a lush velvet, gaping maw at the center of faith
and our kites, tethered to the follicle of our I
[ as the knot finds the noose, the night ]
surrounding the red apples of forbidden things, clinging to a fork, branching off from the center
of non local truth... a tremor in the force that sings the Universe into question,
but never into being
our magnificence, savoring sweet Life, smitten by meaningless miracles, as befit a fools indifference
to Reality... our long wings on specks of dust
amuse the blizzard of unknown laws, and yet we persist in beauty and susurrus
the rustle of angels on fishhooks
as we reel in the big
One. [ Divided ]
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
April's flames made the friendliest fire,
although I feared they would
char and consume my life
and leave it but smoking cinders.
Friendly, fragile...
a single tear could put them all out.
April's flames shone brighter than the
sun.
They shed new light.
I could see things that
the shadows kept to themselves,
disguised as if some kind of treasure,
but the truth was that they were only
burdens.
April's flames lit two packs of cigarettes,
thirty-one thousand candles,
and a cozy fireplace
for thirty-one nights
where I would sit and rest knowing
the fire had not gone out.
I could feel it back then.
April's flames were lit in March
and snuffed abruptly in mid-May,
but if I have some lighter fuel
I'll rekindle them some August day.
Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 9:18 AM UTC
more than anything, I want
to sit by your feet again;
I want to hear the harsh and bitter birds
of Goethe's words flutter from your mouth again,
and the white eider-down softness
of your cotton slip brush against my skin,
burning me with the feel of you
for I think I've found the heart of me lives
with the heart of you
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 7:57 PM UTC
Wilmer McLean had seen war in the flesh;
Near Bull Run he had purchased a farm.
When rebellion broke out, Stonewall Jackson came up
Causing Wilmer distress and alarm
So McLean sold his farm, moved his kin far from harm;
-kept them safe to the very last day.
Until Robert E. Lee and Ulysses S. Grant
chose his parlor for the end of the Fray.
From Fort Sumter’s surrender to Appomattox Court House
Through five Aprils, ****** war had held sway,
It began in his back yard, ended up in his parlor
From fate he could not get away.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 7:35 PM UTC
My mother loved the dogwood blooms -
each spring a fresh crucifixion.
And when it flushed wild in the clearing,
where our new house stood,
on a stripped skull, quick to erode,
my mother would rush to the dogwood,
take each stained white blossom
in her hand and said "forgive, forgive."
She never went to church anymore,
never again touched her cold dead Mary,
never again begged favor or grace,
not after that first spring
bloomed dogwood,
not after the twisted
cursed and giving lumbers
first sprung upon her eyes -
a crucifixion, multiplied,
a hundred times, a hundred Aprils
on the limbs of a retribution.
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 5:36 PM UTC
Slipping away from my fingertips once again.
Beautifully breaking.
Fantastically falling apart.
Days spent pacing with your shallow heart racing just praying for an embracing.
The seasons will keep changing.
Waves will crumble to ashes.
Snow will melt into lungs, indirectly letting us inhale the wintry, frigid weather.
Flowers will be reborn once again and embody scent into our minds once more.
Dreaming of a day when I could rest in the canopy of dogwood and sweet honeysuckle.
Earth is where I'll remain, one with the howling winds and piercing air.
Flowery Aprils and Brutal Novembers.
Burt me regarding the sacred time of my last breath, be it in leaves of maples petals of tulip, crisps of December frost or maybe even crunchy sand in between my toes as told by the trodden beaches of Bora Bora in July.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
The sweet petals of the tulips are so beautiful this time of year
They way they glisten in the moonlight
Drenched in your blood as i bury your body in the garden
Spring flower fragrances
and rotting body parts gently caress the breeze
I breath in deeply
Beauty
Paradise
You remember nights like these for the rest of your life
Aprils showers give way to carefree summer nights
Nothing prettier than blood stained tulips beneath a full moon
I love midnight gardening
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 2:59 AM UTC
Wot’s this ****** Poetry stuff?
It’s all Gobbledygook to me!
As far as I’m concerned you can just stick
Your iamb up your fat pentameter.
Wink.
And I don’t care whether some of it
Is like common speech.
Or clever for being slightly incorrect.
Wink.
So why do lilies have to mean death
When they are nothing but fracking flowers?
What’s with all these virile horses
And apples that are supposed to be bosoms?
They are bladdy animals and fruit
For heaven’s sake!
Nothing more, nothing less.
All this Moon in June stuff.
All these bladdy feelings about your dog dying
And unrequited love.
All sentimental words
And Repetition.
I’d rather read a tome like a car manual:
At least it tells you something
You can use in real life.
Yes, it’s all Vogon Poetry to me.
All pretanticulary epticism from egogargantoid
Arsenburgers who see themtegglers as the interferonical
Ellicopters of the bladdy cosmeticus.
And then there’s TS bladdy Elliot
With his cruel Aprils and his
Hoc ideo non potes legere quia lingua peregrina est.
Vita illius.
And while I’m at it.
Who needs history when we live in the present?
Art is no use whatsoever.
Give me a hammer and a spanner
Any day.
Leave those luvvies to their childlike play
And ballet dancers to their pillockettes.
Opera? Pah. Humpa dumpa.
Leave them Odious Odes to Cleverclogs Keats.
Poetry? No bladdy thanks.
(Written for some Friends.
Winks.
At too great a length
For most).
Paul Butters
© PB 13\7\2023.
Jul 13, 2023
Jul 13, 2023 at 6:50 AM UTC
I smell rain and wet pavement
and sun
As I dance and I float
and I run
I hear laughter and cries
and song
As the sky’s colors bleed
into dawn
I watch as purples and pinks
fade away
As calm blue settles
over the day
I feel fresh air and dirt
underneath
As the spring I’ve so missed
breaks through the trees
I taste sweet berries and love
on my tongue
As freedom and bliss burn through me
like ***
Jun 8, 2025
Jun 8, 2025 at 11:35 AM UTC
It raged across five Aprils, killed 600,000 sons,
but now, there was a chance for peace, if Johnston wanted one.
Some urged a guerrilla war, a game of hit and run,
but Johnston saw a suffering South and knew this must be done.
He called a truce with Sherman to surrender his command.
In truth, I think he would have rather shook the Devil’s hand.
The defeated kept their horses, and were paroled back to their homes.
This land once more united, its prior sins atoned.
For every drop of blood that had been spilled by blow or lash
had been matched, drop for drop, in every ****** clash.
On the ninth of April 65’ Rebels tore their battle flags
and little strips of colored cloth were given to each man.
The flags were not surrendered to become the spoils of war.
They fraternized with men they would have killed the day before.
Now all who had survived the war, all but one, would live.
Good Friday night would claim the last that Lincoln had to give.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
there is beauty in recognising that I am still the sapling I referred to myself as in my poetry of three Aprils ago, horrified
I will continue to love those out of reach
continue to get my heartbroken
I will perpetually and paradoxically be "too old" and "too young"
but most of all, I will continue to grow.
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
no sooner had we bloomed like the cherry blossoms on the trees
we wilted
and i fell
because like those cherry blossoms we were beautiful for a while
not destined to last longer than a week in March
with a whispering gust you blew away
while heavy with the weight of aprils rain
i crashed to the ground
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 2:10 PM UTC
Once upon a time in America
the Sons and Daughters of Liberty
faced down the dragoons of a distant tyrant
and won freedom for themselves and their posterity.
Once upon a time in America
A President held forth for human rights
and freed a people who had been held in *******
after five Aprils of costly, ****** strife
Once Upon a Time In America
brave women rallied to be suffragettes;
No more content to be second class citizens,
They won the vote and haven't looked back yet
Once Upon a Time In America
The teeming masses set out for our shores
They were greeted by the lady in the harbor
who raised the torch of Freedom ever more
Once upon a time in America
we raised brave men the equal of their time;
They spent their prom day storming Norman beaches
and didn't stop until they reached the Rhine.
Once upon a time in America
Men with the "Right Stuff" could still be found
to circle the Earth and reach the nearby moon
returning back here safely to the ground.
That was once upon a time in America.
before the dream was sold and spat upon
Before they pulled the ladder up behind them.
For most of us the dream is dead and gone.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 8:14 AM UTC