April

Poem By John Payne

What is it that I'm feeling?
Am I not feeling a thing?
I am trying
To at least cling
To something worth mentioning

The phone goes ring ring
No ringtone about bling bling
Heavily I am sweating
With all the arguments I'm hearing

Tightly I am closing
My ears that are whitening
With all the pressure I am giving
As not to hear anything

Alone in silence I am lying
Those people have stopped ranting
Those people have stopped being
Two beings with no meaning

Alone in silence I am lying
What is it that I'm feeling?
Am I not feeling a thing?
I am trying to cling
To something worth mentioning

Comments about April

hey nat......what a lovely fling that ding a ling my brain.........spinning all around...........appreciating this fascinating..........feeling


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That with thy sceptre smit'st the teeming plain
And gladd'nest all the world with golden grain,

December

THE roofs are dreary with the drifted rime
And in the air a stillness as of death
Th'approach of some portentousness foresaith.

False February

NOT seldom, whilst the Winter yet is king,
Whilst yet the meads are mute and boughs are bare,
A stirring in the February air

February

HOW long, o Lord, how long the Winter's woes?
Is it to purge the world of sin and stain
That in its winding-sheet it stands again

January

THIS is the bitter birth-month of the year.
The sun looms large against the leaden sky,
Rayless and red, as 'twere a giant's eye,