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These poems are written for the (Inter)NationalPoemWritingMonth 2015.
For the month of April there is one poem per day, sometimes following a prompt, sometimes free.

All poems are (cc) JaePix.de

 


 

1. April - An "I guess it's too late..." poem after the Essay by Bernadette Mayer

Keeper of dreams

I guess I'm too old to be an astronaut?
Because astronauts have to be young,
I was told,
and fit,
and healthy.
I guess I'll have to bury that dream
of stepping on the moon
like the first man,
or seeing the earth
as a blue ball.
I guess only millionaires
can now fly a space shuttle
or visit the ISS
or see the earth
from above.
I guess even an sub-orbit flight
is only for the rich.
Isn't it?

But then...
we just went
from impossible
to unlikely
to merely expensive.
If I live another decade
or two
I might...
I could...
Couldn't I?

 


 

2. April - A poem of negation

Home

It's neither young
              nor has it grace.
It's not a shed.
              It's not a place
that's neat and clean.
              It's not a dump
but neither grand.
              It's not a sump.
It's not a house
              where I can roam
and leave again -
              I call it home.

 


 

3. April - A poem about the stars

A Plea to Mother Sun

Here comes the Sun out of a cloud
to show her face so bright and proud.
Here comes the Sun so hot and fierce
to burn the face of mother earth.
Here comes the Sun so soothing warm
to heal the world by winter torn.

Here comes the Moon to steal her trips
and hide her in a full eclipse.
Oh would you come, dear Sun, again
out of the shadow of Moon's den?
Don't leave us, Sun, our light of gold.
Don't leave us in the dark and cold!

 


 

4. April - A forteener

The Easter Bunny's Dilemma

We went to see the easter bunny hopping in the grass
It didn't quite elude us but it seemed a little crass.
It pointed out its stashes which supposedly were eggs
that turned out to be chicks already running on two legs.

Apparently it tried to paint the chickens none the less
with lots of coloured splatter and not very much success.
We tried to give advice as to which colours it should use,
it didn't seem to matter though which tools we were to choose.

So that's why this year's easter eggs are running in the field
with fluffy feathers all around and spirits that don't yield,
with flowers tied to ribbons 'round their fluffy little necks
and we'll be eating chocolate bunnies rather than boiled eggs.

 


 

5. April - A love poem without mentioning love or any clichés

Not a love poem

That little snore you make at night
when woken by the first of light
That look that creeps into your eye
when our cats are walking by
The flowers that on some fine days
appear half crooked in a vase
The way you smile and then forget
at what it was that I just said
And when you buy the umpteenth pesto
but then forget to buy espresso
To find that cheese, so sadly late
and things you bought and never ate
When once again you overslept
or on my toe at dancing stepped...
I smile at every quirky trait
I know you'll always be my mate

 


 

6. April - mutilating Emily Dickinson

Mixed signals

They shut me up
each time I speak up
with truth uncomfortable
in prose as much as rhymes
when as a little girl
I spoke out of line
"disrespectful"
to my betters
they put me in my place
my truth better shut
in the closet
because they liked theirs better
and me - still - silent - frustrated
they might as well have locked
a parrot in a cage
for talking treason
because I said
what they had taught me
only, when it was me
it wasn't welcome
and I wish I cold
as easy as a star
look down upon captivity
and laugh
But no. I can't. No more.

 


 

7. April - A poem about Mondays

Monday mornings

Monday mornings find me wanting
wishing for the weekend gone
with a desperate futile longing
for that sunspot on the lawn

feed the cats


But instead I dread the morning
dread the car and my commute
dread the Monday morning meeting
that will be as always moot

take a shower


think of instead sleeping in
of the dance on Friday night
of the friends that just popped in
and to watch the evening light

have a coffee


When the sunlight strikes the wheel hand
and a coffee has been had
when I drive into the woodland
ach, life isn't quite so bad

 


 

8. April - A poem on money or value or worth

Is it worth it?

Time is money
and money makes the world go round.
What goes around, comes around
and a penny saved is a penny earned

  (and lost and found makes four already).
That's penny wise and pound foolish.
So put your money where your mouth is
because talk is cheap
and there's no such thing as a free lunch.
Yet the best things in life are free?
A penny for your thoughts, my dear,
'cus money can't buy you happiness,
because money is the root of all evil.
But true love is worth its weight in gold.

  If only I knew how to weigh love.
There's always month left
at the end of the money.

  It's the limiting factor.
  Loved, and hated,
  it makes those happy
  who spend it
  for things that make them happy
  and makes them sad
  where it sticks.
We know the price of everything
and the value of nothing.
Money for nothing
and the chicks for free,
but all that glitters is not gold.

  And yet, and yet
  we seek forever
the pot of gold
at the end of the rainbow.

 


 

9. April - Palinode

"Wedding Charm" from 2014:

For her a flower wreath
For him a knife and sheath
A ribbon round their hands
Their heads so full of plans
May words and deeds so done
Join hand and heart to one

Palinode to a Wedding Charm

The flowers withered, dry,
her wedding vow a lie.
The knife with bloody edge,
"until we die" his pledge.
Back then I should have seen
what never should have been.

 


 

10. April - A visual poem

The Unicorn

The white unicorn
will only carry virgins.
I'll seek a black one.

 


 

11. April - An abecedarian poem

My favourite book series

A Brotherly Clone
Does Every Family Good.
Harry Is Just
Keeping Lady Winter Moving.
Nobody Offers Peter
Queets River for a Swim.
The watch Under Vimes
Will not hold with Xenophobia,
Yet shuns Zombies.

Waiting out the strom

A
Blazing
Cyclone
Does
Every
Family
Good.
Hiding
In
Jennah's
Kitchen
Longingly,
Midnight
Never
Offers
Pause.
Quandrals
Ricochet.
Salome,
Torre,
Umeco
Valiantly
Wait,
Xenophobia
Yesterday
Zeroed.

 


 

12. April - A Sapphic Poem

April's Fool

April, strangest of all months, you don't fool us.
You send sun and snow alike, sometimes flowers
bloom and then get frosted. Spring will win though.
Once come May, you loose.

 


 

13. April - An erasure of some kind

Breakfast

My favourite library,
used as "breakfast room"
- now with added bookshelves -
table facing the window.
Beautiful is the view
over street and valley.
The smell of coffee - always.
Sun over mountains,
all red and purple,
just for the coffee.
Just for me.

 


 

14. April - A riddle

The Riddle

We love a mystery, enigma, puzzle
It makes us think and guess and sorely dazzle.
We try to solve it all and want to know it
Yet if we understand there's naught to show it.
It can be magic tricks or simple questions
or literary puns with crude suggestions.
They may be mathematic allegations
or even tic-tac-toe that saves a nation.
But in the end we need to solve each crossword
no matter how much more they call us "weird nerd."

 


 

15. April - A dialogue

Seasons

What would you - Summer – have of me
When light is fewer?
I’m white and pure for all to see,
The bold renewer.

You are the death of living things,
The coldest killer.
I am the warmth that full life brings
And not a chiller.
You are the drought and red-hot death
With your hot searing.
You are the burning fiery breath!
Said Winter, leering.
Oh, stop the argument, you two!
Cease petty strife.
It’s Spring – and Autumn - too,
That bring on life.

We let the early crocus bloom
Out of the snow.
Above your head magnolias loom
And cornfields grow.

We fill the horn of plenty up
With corn and fruit,
And fill with sweetest wine your cup
From nature’s loot.

And so the seasons clasp each hand
To reaching hand,
A circle made to span the land
From end to end.

They dance the everlasting dance,
The message sent:
That life and death and birth and chance
Will never end.

 


 

16. April - A poem addressing itself

Sincerely Yours - Poem

Please, line, express my thoughts
Please, meter, turn my words
into something meaningful
Don't make me a murder hole

Run, stanza, run your course
don't limp like a crippled horse
make my struggling endeavor
please turn into something clever

 


 

17. April - A Terzanelle

The Fugitives

The night is dark
and full of terror
so they say

We sit together
clinging tight
and full of terror

They come for us
for we have fled
and clinging tight

Why would they care
- we ask ourselves -
when we have fled?

Who is to say
we shouldn't be
we ask ourselves

But you and me
we shouldn't be
the night is dark
or so they say

 


 

18. April - A Social Media Poem

TMI

I went to the doctor,
look at this pic.
I'm having breakfast
with Susi and Nick.

I'm watching TV,
it's Doctor Who.
Will you excuse me,
I'm off to the loo.

The cat has the flue,
she puked on the bed.
My MIL is disgusted,
the in-laws have fled.

The NSA's listening,
getting a boon.
Apollo has never set
foot on the moon.

The Powers That Be
will be spammed if you try
but really, for me
it is just TMI.

 


 

19. April -

The Erlking

Look who rides through night so wild!
It is the father, holding his child.
He carries the boy cradled in his arm,
He keeps him safe, he keeps him warm.

"Father, father, don't you see
The fairy folk so merrily?"
"Hush, my boy and fear you not,
It's trees you see in your fever hot."

"Come to me, I promise you, boy,
An iPad and a life of joy.
Come walk with me to fairyland
I'll put a joystick in your hand.

With online games you'll soon forget
Your current life and never fret
About your friends, the real life ones,
As long as World of Warcraft runs."

"Father, father, don't you hear
The Erlking promise a life of cheer?"
"Be still, it's just the wind's soft prayer"
The father says and kicks his mare.

And on and on the wild ride goes
Away, away from invisible foes,
For light and village, home and bed -
The child will live, the horse is dead.

 


 

20. April - A Landay (9+13)

Ex-Yugoslavia

The land was torn by war, they tell me.
Torn into many ragged pieces, hurting sorely.

Once a single folk, now bitter foe.
Oh, can you tell me true why this must always be so?

Families on this side and on that,
Split down the middle and over many countries spread.

Your armies only followed orders...
It took you years and years to heal the wounds and borders,

To heal the land of craters and mines
Was easier by far than healing bodies and minds

Yet peace came with this generation,
And strangers come again to visit for vacation.

Let us hope that friendship conquers fight,
And may people live forever more in love and light.


Ex-Jugoslavien

Das Land vom Krieg zerrissen, tot,
In tausend Teile zerfallen, Menschen in Not.

Familien die einst glücklich waren,
kämpft nun Bruder gegen Bruder in den Kriegsjahren

Jetzt zieren Bombenkrater das Land
Und Minenfelder geh'n mit gift'gen Äckern Hand in Hand

Das Land zu heilen braucht es viel Zeit
Menschen heilen nicht so leicht wie Land von ihrem Leid

Langsam werden Grenzen zu Narben
Und Städte, aufgebaut, erhalten neue Farben.

Ach, hätte ich nur einen Wunsch frei
dann dass die Menschheit von nun an nur noch friedlich sei.

 


 

21. April - Stating the obvious

Who am I?

I am
I am me
I am woman
I am free
I am wife
Freemate too
I am happy
I love you
I am poet
I am! (sic)
I am sloppy
Sometimes chic
I remember
I forget
I am

 


 

22. April - Another Erasure

Divinity

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we
end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to
dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us
pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy
takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary
life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No
traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you
now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

 


 

23. April - A Pastoral Poem

Earth day

The time has come
where I must tend the yard
It flowers some
but is by winter marred

The weeds alas
they never seem to care
the bamboo grass
is growing for a dare

The cherry tree
has blossoms pink and white
And those I see
I hope will grow and ripe

The shadows chill
when I am scarcely done
It's April still,
And not the Summer's sun

 


 

24. April - Card Reading

The mason and the clergyman
They set a pillar high
With three bright coins set in the top
With three stars shining bright

The jester pointed to the stars
And smothered down their pride
By pointing out the pentagrams
On catholic church's side

The laughter of the motley fool
It humbled priest and man
But laughter also took the load
From shoulders there and then

The card shall tell you, if you will
To heed in equal part
Your work, your soul, but never still
The laughter in your heart!

 


 

25. April - A satire or parody

Annabel's Valentine

For her this rhyme is penned, whose bulging eyes,
Brightly red-rimmed like a bit of ember,
Shall find her blighted name, amongst the lies
Upon this page, for all now to remember.
Remember back the days! -- they show revulsion
Unholy - mark of Kain - with no regret
You have torn out my heart with much expulsion --
The deed -- the horror done! I won't forget.
Enwritten upon the leaf that now, alas
You're scanning with your eyes, lie in plain sight
Two fading words oft uttered in a class
Of English poetry for children bright.
The words, though naturally lying
As all words from a poet's feather will be
Tell who the faithless lover was -- Cease trying!
She left and left me bereft - Annabel Lee.

 

The Path Not Taken

Two paths diverged in a mess of emotion,
And sorry I could not ever be both
And be one body, I pondered the notion
And looked me up and down as I could
In a mirror and studied my growth;

One chosen for me and it looked fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because I was so used to its wear;
I wished I could change what I saw there
I wished it was different and yet the same,---

And both sides of me inside me lay
And taint my soul with longing black.
Oh, could I change to the other each day!
Yet knowing how painful is just one way,
I doubted if I should ever turn back.

Now I am telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two paths diverged in my life, and I —
I would have liked both to travel by,
And feel it would have made all the difference.

 


 

26. April - Clerihew

Measuring the World

Carl Friedrich Gauß
rarely left the house
until he got entangled
with covering the world in triangles

Alexander von Humbold
was often enough told
he'd catch a disease
but never did he sneeze.

 


 

27. April - A Persona Poem

Old as Stone

Here I stand
on the foundations of my forbears
Immobile,
a-waiting

Here I watch
My windows look out on the crossroads
Unknowing
all-seeing

In my rooms
families lived and died
and gave birth
to the living

In my yard
cherries grow and apples
and flowers
and weeds

And yet
I am older than all of them
older than dirt
older than stone

A car
drives up to the carport
they are home
my family!

 

Fairy Godmother

I was there at her birth
I made her giggle with mirth
She clutched my auburn hair
I helped her climb a stair
She gathered frogs with me
When she was barely three
I saved her from a beast
And form losing her shoe at a feast
I found her a prince so fair
He climbed up her golden hair
He got her big with child
No doe would take to the wild
What right has the vile little beast
To exclude me from the naming feast?

 


 

28. April - Hay(na)kus

Hope
flies highest
and falls hardest

I
am losing
my last patience

Cats
are lounging
on my lap

Maybe
I'll write
more hay(na)kus later

 


 

29. April - Bridges

The bridge

A djinn once showed his solemn face
to make a man an offer:
"I'll grant you any wish in faith
as long as it is proper."

The man his brow in wrinkles lay
and fin'lly told his new friend:
"A bridge," said he "from London Bay
straight on to New York's West End

So I don't have to mount a plane
Because I so hate flying
I could just drive this ocean bridge
In much less fear of dying."

"You know," the djinn with worry said
"how deep that bridge would run?
I'd have to reach the ocean bed
I fear it can't be done.

I'll make you famous, make you rich
just wish for something other
As long as it is not a bridge
I swear it's not a bother."

The man looked sad and disappointed,
but whispered in the end
"A woman's mind I always wanted
so much to understand."

The djinn he looked across the lands,
than stroked his beard so rich,
then magic buzzed between his hands:
"How wide d'you want that bridge?"

 


 

30. April - A Review

The Dream

Last night I dreamt I was dying
Last night I dreamt I was dead
And though on the floor I was lying
I could still move my eyes and my head

The people around me were trying
To find the one who had killed
I tried to help them by saying
But my voice and my head were all chilled

They lugged me around and I gave them
Directions by moving my eyes
Of whom to find and condemn
Until those eyes too turned to ice

My skin turned all cold and all grey then
My dying at last was complete
The living, I no more could help them
But peaceful I found it, and sweet

It sounds like a terrible nightmare
But it never felt bad it would seem
As I found myself waking I wished for
The peace and the calm of that dream