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April is Coming, My Favorite Month



D431CA7B-7A12-4CEF-93BF-9CB74BDE40CE.jpegYes, April is my favorite month, it's my birthday month.  Not that I want to get any older, but I'm not ready to stop living either.  I still have too much to do.  We also get Easter in April.  I love this Springtime of year in spite of the tax deadline.  I'm not wishing away March, I am just trying to prepare myself for National Poetry Month and committing to writing a poem a day.  Trying to psych myself up for it, I looked back on my past April writing attempts.  I was surprised to be reminded of historical events.  

April 15

So it's here
a day off from the office
a cool breeze blows off the ocean
a sparrow hops onto my stepping stone
a single white rose blooms
a poem is whirling in my head
a cup of coffee sits steaming on my desk
a text from my son saying "'morning Mom"
and Oh Yeah.....
the deadline for filing 2012 taxes
and two bombs explode at the Boston Marathon.

In 2018, I wrote about Bill Cosby's conviction for sexual assault.  I also wrote about my husband's struggles with recovering from triple by-pass, heart surgery.  It reminded me that last April, I was actually checking his breathing to be assured he was still alive. I didn't know if he would survive, he was totally helpless for months, living solely on one or two Ensures a day.  He could barely sit up in bed.   I took him to the ER at least 4 times.  That was only one year ago, and right now he is perfectly fine, floating around on our boat in Mexico enjoying the warm weather.

Here are a few of my poems from past National Poetry Aprils.  I noticed most of my April poems were pretty short, that made me smile.   I hope this April will be as productive.

Sunday Visitor

A little brown bird
flew onto my deck
this Sunday morning.
I spoke no word
when she cricked her neck
and fluttered one wing,
then hopped right up to me.   
I smiled my best hello
as she turned to fly free.



April 14 #25

he sees cockroaches
climbing the hospital wall
fever burns his brain


Age spotted hand shakes
palming a medley of meds,
halved, round and oval,
kidney, heart, blood, boost, and pain.   
A blue pill escapes his mouth.             

Midnight Rain

Midnight's uneven racquet,
kettle drums tap out the beat.
Words keep time with the rhythm,   
slumber ending rain.

Thoughts slide into puddles
to discover in the dawn,
write it now.        



Middle Ground

climate is disturbing
regardless of your preference
erratic and impulsive leadership
creates a distressed atmosphere
one side too sensitive
one uncaring
So sad.              



I ran across this poem by one of our members who has passed, Frank Gibbard. He was a poet who, even though he lived in the UK, attempted to write daily during US National Poetry Month.  Frank is missed but his poetry lives on.

      ~~Frank Gibbard

Why don't you join me in April with an attempt to write something every day?  I will be posting my attempts in the Playground in the 2019 thread or if I particularly like my daily offering (when you are writing every day don't expect every poem to be your best), I will post the poems that I would like feedback on at Member Poetry.  Happy writing!





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