Wednesday, April 1, 2015

National Poetry Month 2015



Established by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, National Poetry Month begins on April 1st and runs through April 30th every year. This month-long celebration of poetry is designed “to widen the attention of individuals and the media to the art of poetry, to living poets, to our complex poetic heritage, and to poetry books and journals of wide aesthetic range and concern.” During April, poets, poetry lovers, publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, and schools throughout the United States celebrate poetry.

One of the challenges of NPM is to read and/or write a poem every day. So ... in the spirit of the observance, for the fifth year I offer you what I hope will be inspiration for each of April’s thirty days.

This year, I’ve done some research into the most popular poems of all time and have listed my favorites among them below (in no particular order). As a change from previous years, this year, I ask you to click on the links below the poem titles and poets and to read the poems—one each day of the month. After reading the poem for any given day, spend some time with it; think about the content and anything in the poem that “strikes a chord” for you. Working from that “chord,” try to write a poem of your own that may or may not involve similar content. Let the famous poems inspire you and, then, follow your muse!


April 1—“Daffodils” (“I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud”) by William Wordsworth

April 2—“Remember” by Christina Rossetti

April 3—“If” by Rudyard Kipling

April 4—“Invictus” by W. E. Henley

April 5—“Hope Is the thing with Feathers” by Emily Dickinson

April 6—“Answer to a Child’s Question” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

April 7—“Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll (with audio)

April 8—“Love and Friendship” by Emily Brontë

April 9—“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost

April 10—“I Carry Your heart With Me” by E. E. Cummings

April 11—“I Loved You” by Alexander Pushkin

April 12—“Life Is Fine” by Langston Hughes

April 13—“Seven Ages of Man” by William Shakespeare

April 14—“The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe

April 15—“I Taught Myself to Live Simply” by Anna Akhmatova

April 16—“Brown Penny” by William Butler Yeats

April 17—“If You Forget Me” by Pablo Neruda

April 18—“Digging” by Seamus Heaney

April 19—“I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” by Maya Angelou

April 20—“Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night” by Dylan Thomas

April 21—“Cinderella” by Sylvia Plath

April 22—“Laughing Song” by William Blake

April 23—“The Starry Night” by Anne Sexton

April 24—“Dreams” by Langston Hughes

April 25—“Song of Myself” by Walt Whitman

April 26—“No Man Is an Island” by John Donne

April 27—“Forgetfulness” by Billy Collins

April 28—“Blackberry-Picking” by Seamus Heaney

April 29—“The Bear” by Galway Kinnell

April 30—“Alone” by Philip Levine
 
Tips:

1. Don’t feel compelled to match your content to the examples’—in fact, do just the opposite and make your poems as different as you possibly can. The example poems are only intended to trigger some poetry-spark that’s unique to you and to guide your thinking a little—don’t let them enter too deeply into your poems, don’t let their content become your content.

2. Let your reactions to the poems surprise you. Begin with no expectations, and let your poems take you where they want to go.

3. Give the topics your own spin, twist and turn them, let the phrases trigger personal responses: pin down your ghosts, identify your frailties, build bridges and cross rivers, take chances!

4. Keep in mind that writing a poem a day doesn’t mean you have to “finish” each poem immediately. You can write a draft each day and set your drafts aside to work on later.

5. Whatever you do this month, find some time (a little or a lot) to enjoy some poetry!

As always, your sharing is welcome,
so please feel welcome to post your thoughts and poems as comments!

Regular weekly prompts will resume on Saturday, May 2nd.
In the meantime, I wish you a wonderful and poetry-filled April!
Happy National Poetry Month!

Let the poem-ing begin!


138 comments:

  1. Adele Ma'am,
    Wrote this for A to Z but submitting it here anyway.

    http://imagery77.blogspot.com/2015/04/deep-in-their-hearts-event-awaited-for.html

    Hank

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hi Adele, todays poem reminded me of indecision, maybe it was the first half of the line - 'I wandered lonely as a cloud.' So --

    ~ ~ ~

    This Way Or That


    The whole day's eye opens dizzy in the morning.
    I wandered lonely and without a clue
    of what to do through a valley of thought ;
    daisies, their rosettes of spoon-shaped leaves;
    ray's I pick away from their sun -
    all points of the compass.
    Shall I go north, east, what about south, or,
    maybe to the west?
    I look to the weathercock for direction;
    he spins round, confused.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Indecision ... interesting! Thanks so much for sharing, Lewis!

      Delete
  3. So much richness every year. Thank you once again, Adele!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Hi Adele, a poem for April 2 —

    ~ ~ ~

    When I'm Gone Away

    Turnaround, dash away from
    the thoughts of corruption
    you'd plann'd.
    Go wordless
    into that warm street,
    leave behind the threads of threats;
    that tattered coat
    of a counterfeit day
    you'd plann'd;
    from early in the city
    and late into the countryside -
    through the viewfinder of deadline
    deception by deception.
    When I am gone away,
    it will be because of everything
    you'd plann'd.

    ReplyDelete
  5. brown leaves gently twirl
    go wherever the wind blows
    ecstasy awaits

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks so much, Risa! Christina Rossetti would have approved!

      Delete
  6. Hi Adele, the poem for April 3. I wonder!...not 'If', but - Can You.

    ~ ~ ~

    Can You!

    Can you keep your bed when all about you
    are losing theirs and claiming yours.
    Can you eat your apple pie while men freak out;
    and make allowance for their shouting.
    can you start a clean slate
    and not fret about all the flies around you...
    be unconcerned about being underrated,
    scream—and not make your crazy schemes
    your master; drink—and not claim noughts
    and crosses the perfect game!
    not say harrumph! harrumph! like a schoolmaster
    while you tear up sheets of rosters,
    or, better, put them to the flame!
    take the roof off your house
    and leave its oak beams bare.
    go and live in a cave by the sea,
    and listen to the waves - those stubborn mules!
    can you watch yourself return
    to that bottle of scotch;
    your words spoken mere tokens
    of the things you spent your life on,
    to scoop-up the pieces from the coop
    messy as chicken soup;
    without any system of rules.
    be as brisk as a rocky mountain bighorn sheep
    with fine action brake disks, that
    on any given turn
    practise the art of beginning again.
    with slurred speech wet as sea moss
    steer a course -- your shopping cart
    quick around the aisles of Wal-Mart
    with natural swerve on every curve.
    can you walk on clouds
    while sound asleep and break
    your self-inflicted curfew.
    say good-bye with no strings attached
    to so called loving friends that hurt you.
    with a poets pen write to get in touch...
    to dodge the bullets shot at you
    by rattlesnakes in three piece suits.
    greet every second that beckons you;
    to run towards it;
    what's there of worth to unearth
    in the long run -- can you make a life of fun
    and not every step one tonne.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Very nice, Lewis! Thank you again for sharing. Are you going for the poem-a day- challenge?

      Delete
    2. I'm looking forward to the challenge of working on one poem a day! Early in the morning I'll read the days prompt and write out a few lines in response, then return to it at various intervals throughout the day...whenever I get the chance!...I love seeing how the poem keeps changing its course but always seems to find its way to somewhere!

      And then there's the fun of not knowing in advance what will get written on any given day. I think your prompts for National Poetry Month are fantastic!...Thank you, Adele!

      Delete
  7. Hi Adele, a poem for April 4. To take a different view.

    ~ ~ ~

    By Twists and Turns

    In the day that reveals me,
    Bright as the open sky;
    I rebuke the works of...
    Are they soulless gods -
    For this helpless zombie.

    Out of their obliging abandon
    I have winced and cried aloud,
    And by twists and turns -
    My head is unbloody, but bowed.

    Close to this place of senses
    Suffering the pain of thought -
    Where retreats the fondness of the light,
    The guarantee of the moment
    Loses and shall lose me afraid.

    Does it matters how crooked my departure -
    How dead with reward the scroll;
    I am not the master of my fate,
    Neither am I captain of the soul.

    ~ ~ ~

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Adele...with each prompt I refer back to your tips! :)

      Delete
  8. Just great, Lewis, the way you flipped the message (and content) of the original poem. Nice reading you here on the blog.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Thank you, Jamie! I'm so glad you liked the poem. Adele has put together a wonderful blog...a friendly place to visit!

    ReplyDelete
  10. Happy Easter Sunday, Adele!

    A poem for April 5. In opposition to the gloomy view of the soul/will/spirit which I wrote about in yesterdays poem.

    ~ ~ ~

    Spirit

    Spirit is the thing with feathers -
    the attempt is made to cage the bird;
    when it sings is told to stop...
    sway tuneless on that chillest perch -
    and with storm-sick eye
    to view the strangest sea -
    yet - without words - the little bird,
    unabashed - at all - never stops,
    and its sweetest tune is ever heard;
    lively over every landscape.

    ReplyDelete
  11. If

    had I only known
    still the leaves would have fallen
    loving continues

    ReplyDelete


  12. Hi Adele, a poem for April 6. I have asked: 'what do birds say?' and through the skylight window have watched them go about in the garden. -

    ~ ~ ~

    Where Raisins Soak

    At the skylight: a flash of blue
    quick-looks in at me.
    The bluebird's view is skyward-now
    at unfriendly neighbours: starling,
    crow, and house sparrow;
    nest-trespassers; seeking squatters rights!
    and -beware- lurking down
    in picnic-grass; snake, cat,
    raccoon! what! -
    time to dare a blue-dash
    to the birdbath
    where raisins soak in fresh-poured water,
    and from there - to the garden table;
    a fancy spread of grubs
    of the darkling beetle, worms and berries
    and home by a blue-path,
    to its needled nest of pine -
    to sing and wave a wing at me.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Love the "sing and wave a wing" line. Thanks so much for continuing to share with us, Lewis!

      Delete
  13. higher hopes flew away
    tears formed like earthly prayers
    feathers fell to earth

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Very nice, Risa! I've always appreciated your concise and direct style!

      Delete
    2. Hi Risa! "Feathers fell to earth." Magical!

      Delete
    3. Lovely, Risa! Thanks for sharing!

      Delete
  14. Basil! Where are you? Your guest blog was great, but we're missing your poems this year! Hope you'll join in at some point.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Jamie!

      I appreciate your words. Somewhere between personal deadlines and missing some appointments with the Muse…
      The commitment is always there.
      To poetry… in and beyond April
      Basil

      Delete
  15. Hi Adele, a poem for April 7. -

    A composer of symphonies is resigned to the fact of not being able to 'capture/bag' the song of The Song Thrush.

    ~ ~ ~

    The Song Thrush Song

    He cannot bag the Song Thrush song
    through this april morning fog,
    and double-glare's at the cat
    who with a shrill
    jumps awake from catnaps snapped
    to cat-eye the composer
    resigned never to compose
    in symphony the Song Thrush song.
    Uncomposerly, a handkerchief
    of surrender drops
    onto the garden lawn,
    followed by the shout:
    "the inspirations of the flashbulbs
    are far too dimly lit!"
    and through the damp-brown sticky leaves,
    the hiss and sniff
    of the garden-garter snake
    senses with its air-split tongue —
    to-day the muse is flat blank deadbeat dead!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lewis, what a jabberwocky-ian sound your poem has. The sound images and the beat are wonderful.

      Delete
    2. If Lewis Carroll can write his Jabberwock poem, I can take license to dance my way:


      SQUARE DANCE

      Click your heels,
      to an akimbo,
      straighten
      your torso,
      draw your fiddle,
      and get done
      with the old hoedown

      Basil Rouskas

      Delete
    3. Lewis and Basil,

      Wonderful to hear from both of you (welcome back, Basil)! Well done, gentlemen, and thank you for sharing!

      Delete
    4. Brilliant!...where the composer couldn't! - with your poem you brought a lively tune. Basil! I'm of glad of the company at the dance!

      Delete
    5. Hooray, Basil! You're back. It wouldn't be Poetry Month without you! More, please ...

      Delete
  16. The students are enjoying reading a poem each day -- not sure if I can get them to write 30, but they really do enjoy your blog. Thanks, Adele.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So glad to hear that your students are enjoying the poems. Thanks for your comment, Rich!

      Delete
    2. Hi Adele, a poem for April 8. Are friendship and love two separate things, I'm not so sure - and if they are...is one greater than the other! 'Both' are subject to change.

      ~ ~ ~

      Friends and Lovers

      The mood of friends and lovers are like seasons change -
      if I were a gardener would I cast the dice to gamble
      on the transactions of brokers and traders at the stock exchange
      or look to the divination of chicken eggs unscramble,

      I'd forget about messiahs who show the way or free-floating seaweed
      that pretends to swim -to a greener shore- on a wave,
      I'd sow to reap the fruit of seed and not to trust the deed
      of others, I'd knead dough for bread to eat-- some say useless in the grave,

      though worms likely disagree and take what comes what may -
      as far back to the bone; the flesh and day of the dinosaur -
      to-day, they feast on certificates birth and death; a papier-mâché,
      changeable as the stuff on the shelves of a city superstore.

      Delete
    3. A very interesting reflection! Thanks so much for sharing!

      Delete
  17. Hi Adele, a poem for April 9.

    Robert Frost drew inspiration for his poem 'The Road Not Taken' while on walks around the village of Dymock in Gloustershire, U.K. - in the company of his friend the poet Edward Thomas.

    ~ ~ ~

    Dymock

    As for my passing there,
    which of two roads to take
    at the fork of the tongue
    of a woodland snake -
    one as straight as the crow goes
    where mosquito's lay in wait
    by a pond too small for sailing,
    and I, anchored under an oak tree
    close to the waters edge,
    with pieces of hotdog bait
    to catfish catch.

    The other; some say haunted by
    the ghost of a fellow whose
    one hundred year old poem lay
    trodden black in a woodshed
    topped with a frost
    covered weathercock
    that points to the village of Dymock;
    and of walks past gone
    in the company of ET;
    through the forest that has made
    all the difference.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Amazing how one poem can inspire another! Thanks so much for sharing, Lewis!

      Delete
    2. I didn't know about Frost and the village of Dymock. Thanks for sharing that info!

      Delete
  18. Hi Adele, a poem for April 10. Where there isn't any separation - how close?

    ~ ~ ~

    Closer

    a tree —
    not between the root
    and the bud

    no centre-middle —
    that is me
    and always you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I really like the conciseness of this poem and the juxtaposition of nature and human nature. Thanks for sharing!

      Delete
  19. her pink lips were pursed
    "Why do spiders live alone?"
    we had no answer

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Love the sense of mystery! Well done, Risa!

      Delete
    2. Risa! I love this poem. Brought connecting images of a silk purse to carry coins in and the spider's silk web to catch its prey on.

      Delete
  20. combining auras
    rainbows appear in the sky
    the spectrum of life

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Again, your style is perfect for your words. Thanks so much for sharing, Risa!

      Delete
    2. Risa! Lovely image of the arc of life.

      Delete
  21. Many thanks to Lewis and Risa for sharing their poems each day! I may not reply to each, but please know that I'm reading and enjoying every single one!

    Shout out to Basil: I miss your poems!

    ReplyDelete
  22. Hi Adele, a poem for April 11.

    ~ ~ ~

    We Promised Each Other Roses

    I loved you, but, no more...can't you see!
    for mile after mile the feeling remains -
    love for you no longer bubbles up in me,
    only a soaplessness royal reigns!

    To our guests on both sides of the aisle,
    we promised each day would grow a rose...
    proved not so! for while after while -
    in our garden overgrown with woes.

    On its way to the local thrift store -
    I must confess - I've sent my wedding dress,
    I won't be staying here no more -
    I'm off with Joe to a change of address -

    As may God grant you to be loved again,
    a love so tender and so true a guarantee,
    not best left to the turn of a weather vane -
    as may God decree that love come not from me!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Interesting use of rhyme that gives the poem a sense of old English poetry. Really nicely done, Lewis. Thank you for sharing with us every day.

      Delete
  23. Hi Adele, a poem for April 12. For the speaker in the poem by Langston Hughes it turned out fine in the end. It isn't always so.

    ~ ~ ~

    Fingerprints

    I don't feel as cool as
    but sick as cucumber green.

    my watch is cuckooless stopped
    on a wrist crocodile heavy hot
    to over a waterfall go
    a cartwheel sideways,--

    fingers too tired to hold
    on long enough
    to leave fingerprints
    left to right the wrongs.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi, Lewis!

      An interesting twist! thank for sharing!

      Delete
  24. Hi Adele, a poem for April 13. Those all important thoughts of this, that and the other!

    ~ ~ ~

    Oblivion is an Idea

    That strange eventful Everything -
    there the time before the womb
    and there the time the close of tomb.

    The thoughts of men and women all the world
    are not; merely ideas to the six global winds; sails unfurled
    on ships on waves of seven seas on earth as it swirled.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Great use of rhyme. Not overly-obvious or intrusive. thanks for sharing, Lewis!

      Delete
  25. tell me how you feel
    twice, life is nice, life is nice
    daily renewal

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The repetition words perfectly and enhances the last line. Much said in just a few words ...

      Delete
  26. Hi Adele, a poem for April 14. The plan was to write a version of The Raven with a happy ending!...maybe next time!

    ~ ~ ~

    The Raven - Altered and Abridged

    Once upon a midnight nearly, while I wandered, peak to peak,
    Over hills and over curious thoughts for lost Lenore,
    While I plodded, thoughts recapping, suddenly, a lapwing flapping -
    In the guise of inquisitor, he sputtered, "is your mind fit for snapping-sore?"
    "What!", said I, "From some other shore have you word of sweet Lenore?
    "Only this, and nothing more," he uttered, "you shall know her Nevermore!"

    ReplyDelete
  27. 4/14
    Life Stages

    me like da wind
    catbird this manifestation
    me like da wind
    woman the next
    me like da wind
    moody moving
    without boundaries
    occasionally
    collecting
    dust

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Really clever, Risa! I love this poem :)

      Delete
    2. Thank you , Lewis. I've been enjoying yours as well!

      Delete
    3. This one is superb! Thanks, Risa!

      Delete
  28. Hi Adele, 3 poems for April 15.

    ~ ~ ~

    To Live Simply

    The bird in its nest in a tree
    of twigs and leaves used to build
    a home for home year on year.

    ~ ~ ~

    To Live Simply 2

    Look at the skylark over spring bulbs
    without worry or prayer
    for the castle in ruin or treasure buried there-
    and no need of a poem layer on layer.

    ~ ~ ~

    To Live Simply 3

    The fluffy cat's-eye in hope to hypnotize
    the goldfish a swimmer to synchronize;
    to jump out of the bowl
    and into her meowing mouth the final goal,
    instead, the cat falls asleep to dream of water,
    and of fishing there by the Hudson River.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Very nice, Lewis! Am I keeping up okay? Forgive me if I haven't commented on all! Thank you for sharing!

      Delete
    2. The poems get posted and then there are thoughts about how they could have be improved; a few extra words here or maybe a change of word there, or the removal of others somewhere else...at the end of the day there they stand! These prompts are an excellent opportunity for exploring the writing process and of finding other ways in which to express our ideas. Adele, thank you for all your encouraging comments and for the fun of responding to the daily prompts.

      Delete
    3. Thanks so much for your kind words, Lewis! I'm very glad to know that the prompts work for you and that you're enjoying the process. Thank you for sharing your work with us here on the blog!

      Delete
  29. Hi Adele, a poem for April 16. What to do, ask the Gods, flip a coin, or rely on chance, or...?

    ~ ~ ~

    Looped

    Though looped in loops,
    what to do -
    flip a coin,
    or ask the Gods
    to turn their heads
    in my favour,
    or hold the tail of chance
    to follow.

    By and by and by myself,
    and for myself,
    I shall try
    to sort it out.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. "By and by and by myself,
      and for myself,"

      Great lines!

      Delete
  30. Live Simply

    rice ginger fish
    even emperors ate this
    chose simplicity

    ReplyDelete
  31. oops should be "choose simplicity"

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. No worries about typos—I wish I had a penny for every one I've made!

      Delete





  32. Hi Adele, a poem for April 17. To see my home again.

    ~ ~ ~

    Return

    With each early sun
    on my lips
    a prayer,
    in this country -
    this exiled flower;
    once a wild-rose,
    day by day
    to bee-wing home
    from one flower
    to the next.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thomas Wolfe wrote that we can't go home again, but I think we do (again and again) in memory, in dreams, and sometimes in our poems.

      Delete
  33. love

    we are connected
    by an umbilical cord
    we don't need a phone

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oy! Have you noticed how people carry their phone with them everywhere these days? Though there's much more in your poem than simple communication.

      Delete
  34. Hi Adele, a poem for April 18. When there's a sudden change of mood.

    ~ ~ ~

    Fare Around The Tree

    As if by lightning strike, a stroke of luck,
    quick-struck and all her worries become un-stuck.

    She blows early cigarette smoke through a late to shut window,
    and with each puff hoped her sorrow to pass an English valley oak -
    only grown there a shade for a chair painted blue
    next to a gate that opens both ways to folk who in secret speak and spoke

    and there with her sheep dog at her side
    she goes to sit to pray,
    then, off to cut some smelly old bog to dry for fuel -
    what a slog!, from middle-winter to midsummer day

    (also there, under the rot of a log, the grass frog -
    she wished was a prince!)

    but even of that!, suddenly, and as if by lightning struck,
    she's unafraid! - and all the world feels as if remade -
    full of wonder and colourful-keen,
    what a joy! she's ready for the big parade -

    what! cries she, how is it,
    the melancholy - disappeared!...
    have the Gods been swayed-persuaded
    to restore this body new-sparked and cheered,

    and there, above oak wood bark wet and roots revealed —
    Hark! hark! Shakespeare's lark at heaven's gate sings -
    My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise, to embark on a journey
    fare around the tree of life as it yearly rings,

    and be treasure-surprised; sweetened of ear, and brightened of eye...
    forget the whys and wherefores and all of life's goodbyes,
    and most important and most of all,
    at every turn be always ready to improvise!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So much wonderful sharing! Thank you, Lewis, again and again!

      Delete
    2. Some interesting word combinations ('swayed-persuaded').

      I know I'm not keeping up with comments but I am reading!

      Delete
    3. Hi Jamie, swayed-persuaded - as though the Gods swayed back and forth until finally persuaded.

      Delete
  35. Hi Adele, a poem for April 19. Being afraid when there's an actual danger or an imagined one.

    ~ ~ ~

    Afraid of What?

    A visit to the zoo -
    and there, the lion behind the bars,
    and I, from the other side
    to look through -

    Suddenly, I'm afraid -
    if I were stuck in there
    the lion would surely eat me,
    even if I prayed and prayed.

    But wait! I'm not in there,
    and neither is he out here.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Could be an extended metaphor for our fears! Thanks once again for your generous sharing, Lewis!

      Delete
  36. 4/18
    Digging

    digging here dig there
    history buried in dust
    here is only now

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Wonderful, Risa! Thank you, as always, for sharing!

      Delete
  37. Hi Adele, a poem for April 20.

    ~ ~

    Hymn Without Number

    Have you listened to the gravedigger on his deathbed
    tell of how he'd seen and heard a severed talking head.
    Perhaps you've watched the devil many times over do the drop-dead dance
    in front of your friends and relatives by the graveside of life's game of chance.
    Maybe you've stared at the last of the candle's wax rise as your dying likeness,
    and through a midnight curtain spied an oak tree to prance in a state of undress —

    To have fathomed the depth of light and to know the exact close of any given day,
    or to know for sure, the weathercock of tomorrow won't be blown as if flown away.
    And claim by sight and sound to have experienced a blinding silence,
    and that a low dark layer of ever changing cloud could be weighed on a balance.
    Have you known the dying of a lily, and the dying of your own dying limbs,
    and have you in secret written in praise all the perfect hymns. —

    If so, then no doubt, you'll go mental into that good night.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Love the dismount! Thanks for sharing, Lewis!

      Delete
  38. Each year, Adele posts something special for National Poetry Month -- a great way to share poetry!

    ReplyDelete
  39. Hi Adele, a poem for April 21.

    ~ ~ ~

    A Fairy Tale

    From scarlet depth's or is it whiteness height's -
    the violinist plays at a light-years pace
    along a path to a garden's end,
    where two frogs leapfrog into a tilted glasshouse,
    and just like Dorothy's house;
    it begins to spin and then to stop,
    and from a tall glass cathedral now,
    out step a prince and princess
    to dance around rainbow-leaved oak trees.
    And by a golden sundial; its shadow at twelve, mid-day -
    a butterfly, as if to talk to say: 'by the twelfth hour
    along from now,
    prince and princess must return to life around the pond,
    or else to take a final bow and glide here a dance no more!

    ReplyDelete
  40. passing

    so open the door
    and walk to the other side
    do not be fearful

    ReplyDelete
  41. Hi Adele, a poem for April 22.

    ~ ~ ~

    Scrambled Eggs

    So-and-sos dead, I read it in a magazine.
    It said he died while eating scrambled eggs for breakfast.

    On the kitchen table they found a notebook
    in which he'd written poems about Change...
    you know, like, how there's always change -
    exactly like the change of weather
    and everything else in Nature -
    And how you can't get at what that change is,
    and is there any such thing as change at all! - how odd!
    Of course, all those poems are nothing more than thoughts
    about Change and not Change itself -
    and whatever you said about Change,
    and as soon as you said it,
    quite Naturally; Change had gone and changed!
    What and where is that Change?

    Scrambled Eggs: Eggs with the yolks and whites beaten together
    and cooked to a firm but soft consistency.

    ReplyDelete
  42. Hi Adele, a poem for April 23.

    ~ ~ ~

    All I Do To Feed The Exit Wound

    Exhausted with so much fluff softener
    for a widower in the crowd.

    Drained weak beat bushed
    shot spent wasted
    bleary-bone-weary.

    I feed the wound like a bookworm
    eats its way through my autobiography.

    Dead-dog-tired
    all in, done for, done in
    had it, kaput.

    Exhausted with the exit of a wife -
    Lily and I, used to be umbrella'd
    against any downpour.

    Out on one's feet
    outta gas, ready to drop
    run-down, tired out, worn-out.

    Exhausted with this wilderness --
    I feed the wrecker everywhere.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Very sad but well-expressed. Great use of alliteration and assonance.

      Delete
  43. Great sound to underscore the sadness in this poem. Thanks for sharing, Lewis!

    ReplyDelete
  44. Hi Adele, a poem for April 24.

    ~ ~ ~

    Dreams

    No flowers
    trees
    grass
    animals
    sky
    sea
    fields,
    or
    anything
    else.

    They've all gone
    off to follow their dreams.

    ReplyDelete
  45. dreams

    bubbles of rain float
    dreams are rising to the clouds
    my eyes fill with tears

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Beautiful, Risa! Your signature style is always such a breath of fresh air! Thanks so much for sharing.

      Delete
    2. A deep nod to you, Risa, whose poems I always enjoy for their directness, brevity, and insights.

      Delete
  46. Hi Adele, a poem for April 25.

    ~ ~ ~

    Inherited

    Wonderlands and sorrowlands.
    No such things exist,
    and all that stuff
    are varieties of inherited ideas.

    I have to accept the reaper
    of the present-dazzle
    is only a functional vampire -
    nought more and nought less.

    I, mistakenly believed
    that by pursuing the idea
    of the organ-grinder
    I would find something.

    Instead, in a labyrinth --
    the bones of similar past explorers —
    and I, a loony-bird singing
    merry ideas and loopy turnabouts.


    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. "Wonderlands" and "sorrowlands" —so evocative! Thanks again for all the sharing!

      Delete
  47. Hi Adele, a poem for April 26.

    ~ ~ ~

    To Lay Under a Tree

    I'll go to the church on the hill
    and there take a pew to pray,
    then into the yard to lay under a tree
    and cry my share a star to fill.

    I'll wipe my eyes,
    and let go my fear of death --
    I can't, I don't have time
    even to send for a coffin
    for all these how's and why's.

    The bell tolls; it tolls for me.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Just catching up! thank you once again for sharing, Lewis!

      Delete
  48. Amita Jayaraman (Mumbai)April 26, 2015 at 2:25 PM

    Still reading and enjoying. Some of the poets and poems stay with me, and I find myself looking for other related works. Most enjoyable, Adele. Thank you!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So glad you're enjoying the post, Amita!

      Delete
  49. Hi Adele, a poem for April 27.

    ~ ~ ~

    Sometimes Remembered

    There were butterflies and petals on the air
    and in the cool of the shadows between the rocks
    on the beach awake with the sun, the sea and me.

    And of those things and everything else;
    no void, no beyond, above, behind or beneath --
    what's there is there.

    I found a sea bird with a broken wing
    too hurt to fly over friends round and round
    with laughter about nothing in particular.

    It all seemed special and fun and light and without a care.
    Now, not in touch, lost, out of reach, dead.
    But sometimes remembered -- butterflies and petals on the air.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Wonderful "dismount," Lewis! Thanks again for all your sharing this month!

      Delete
  50. Sing my Name

    a chorus of birds
    morning meowing of cats
    my name means laughter

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Love this one, Risa! So upbeat and filled with a spirit of life! Thanks for sharing!

      Delete
  51. Hi Adele, a poem for April 28.

    ~ ~ ~

    Uncorked

    I used to be a beachcomber,
    and one the strangest things I found
    was a small birdcage,
    and stuck where the door should have been
    the skeleton of two human hands
    as though reaching
    for the corked bottle inside.
    After the bottle was uncorked,
    I read the message
    written in the form of a riddle:
    It's fear that keeps the peace
    and so called love that disturbs it.
    That's why hands get stuck in cages.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Enigmatic? Thank you for sharing, Lewis!

      Delete
  52. Hi Adele, a poem for April 29. Unfinished.

    ~ ~ ~

    Incident at the Round-a bout

    That morning. Light of step the walk to school,
    where the teachers wore their hair and clothes and shoes
    fashionable in nineteen seventy two.
    My wooden desk - its lid love-hearts penknife etched -
    a store for pens pencils and plastic odds and ends,
    and a piece of string I have no idea what for!
    and sticky pink and red striped sweets
    stuck to love-letters to me from Lily and from Lily to me.

    The lorry over-turned,
    and the driver spoke his last words:
    "What happens to my toupee
    after I'm dead?..
    ...I want to sing along to the vibrating
    of that hollow moon, and to the silver-tinged flowers
    over there where the lady bugs
    and caterpillars are sleeping."

    There were pigs on the road,
    dead or dying - wounded at the least.
    And one little piggy
    was impaled on the railings painted red.
    That night, I went with my Mum,
    to the church on the hill, and listened to
    and remember the debate in the churchyard --
    but not what was said in the church.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Forgetting

      I'll try to forget
      that everything is plastic
      finding real is rare

      Delete
    2. Hi Risa, I love your poem for today. I've enjoyed reading all your pieces, especially -- Higher hopes flew away, Life Stages, and Love. I've found myself saying: I wonder how Risa will respond to today's prompt, and have always been pleasantly surprised :)

      Delete
  53. The line should read: stuck to love-letters to me from Lily and from me to Lily. Funny, I kept looking at the line in the poem, knowing something wasn't right!

    ReplyDelete
  54. Hi Adele, a poem for April 30. Unfinished and untitled.

    ~ ~ ~

    The swiftness of her good-bye,
    the cool of her cotton blouse.
    The wife of married years --
    westward bound across the sea.

    The sun the moon the sky the field,
    and the tree where I carved
    mine and Lily's name,
    there to-day, nearly forty years later.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Such a strong emotional core and sense of loss. Thank you for sharing, Lewis!

      Delete
  55. Adele, I really enjoyed reading your poem selections and responding to the prompts in celebration of National Poetry Month. Thank you for allowing me to post my poems here and for your comments which are always appreciated. Also, thank you, Risa, Jamie and Basil for your kind words and for sharing your wonderful poems. Best Wishes to all who have spent some time here at Adele's brilliant blog during the month of April. Its been a great opportunity to further explore the magical world of words. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Awww, thanks so much, Lewis! I've enjoyed your responses and came to look forward to your poems each day. I hope this small bit of inspiration will stay with you and that you'll continue to write. Thank you for your generous sharing!

      Delete
  56. Alone

    internal tears flow
    the pain of abandonment
    weighs heavily on the heart

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. A real sense of loss in these three lines. Thanks for sharing, Risa!

      Delete
  57. Risa, I love this. Brought an image of a heavy rock falling (in slow-motion) to the bottom of a cold, deep river.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lewis, I think you may have a poem of your own inspired by Risa's!

      Delete
    2. Adele, yes, I see what you mean! Mind you, any one of Risa's poems could serve as inspiration :)

      Delete
  58. My thanks to all who visited "The Music In It" during National Poetry Month, to those who read and wrote, and to those who posted their comments and poems. The blog received between 300 and 400 hits daily throughout April. I hope the month was filled with poetry and light for all of you!

    ReplyDelete
  59. Thanks to you Adele! I am so grateful for having been included in the sharing and inspiration.

    ReplyDelete