TWO ON APRIL

1) When well apparell'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads.

     --William Shakespeare

2) April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
     --T.S. Eliot

SONNET XVIII

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
     So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
     So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

(a freebie from William S.)

MOON JUDO

NAPOWRIMO is a clever neology. I'm not sure how I feel about it. But the idea is fine and I'm playing.

Napowrimo is a game some poets are playing: writing a poem a day for the month of April. I may not have a gestation period of a day, but I come up with something every day. Some of it is, ah, a bit undigested, and occasionally, as on the Day of the Pink Moon, I have what I think is a hit.

So journey on over to Skykinwrite.wordpress.com and take a look at some of the poetry I've wrought. The 14th is particularly good and I'll reproduce that right here. There are some other good ones that may interest you on the Skykinwrite page.

          MOON JUDO

Eclipse his beard
she clips her nails
the moon discloses
another veil.

You lay at night
reposed,
at peace
and her light –
I’m sure she’s feminine –
joins gravity
to beautify by soothing
smoothing the day from your skin
your brow relaxes
your smile suggests
no urge to please
and what is best
is your easy breath
and rise and fall
of your breasts
serene

she winks, dodges
hides behind
the gilded trouper’s masque.
You, male,
may misconstrue
and think she does not
look at you
but she continually gazes
upon your rugged face.

You interfere
you step between
misreading what
these small signs mean
and she disappears
misgivings flex
she reappears
her doe-like neck
gracefully bends to you.

Eternal dancer.

Another phase
an appointed drum
the best men bow
and the timeless
feminine steps to the prow.
Gracious men will yield
and the worst of beasts
will strive to disallow.