April 7: One Early Morning

One early morning

I was outside running.

The sun was out, high and bright,

The sunglasses were on, just right.

Tippy-toe.

How great is outdoor -

Urban escape

For my mind and body to shape.

A little bit of wind breeze,

A little bit of shadow from the trees.

A little bit of purple flower.

A little bit of warm shower.

Plip, drop,

Drip, drop.

Tippy-toe,

Sea grapes, I command you to grow!

I would like to stay

In the splatter of rain.

Meantime, no more drops.

The tropical rain stops.

My cloth is wet.

My curls are flat

On early morning,

Playing and celebrating

Life overall, my neighborhood

without umbrella and hood.

No sadness, no misery, just happily,

With a little bit of melancholy.

Ida Tomshinsky (1953-)/ United States -Latvia

April 6: April

Still an irritating wind;

Vestiges of stubborn grey -

Jibing us of recent winter blight.

It's coming through - like perky breasts

Pushing through a blouse -

Teasing, pleasing in it's tantalising play:

Warmth of youth in April sun -

Summering off depression.

Brains returned; remapped for fun.

April is a portal -

Smoothly transitions

Delicate dispositions -suchlike mine,

Easing hunched bodies into

Summery smiles.

Mark R. Slaughter (1957 -) /Norwich

April 5: Always Marry An April Girl

Praise the spells and bless the charms,

I found April in my arms.

April golden, April cloudy,

Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;

April soft in flowered languor,

April cold with sudden anger,

Even changing, even true -

I love April, I love you.

Ogden Nash (1902-1971), New York/United States

April 4: Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning

"Birds singing

The Moment of listening

The Song of happiness.

Is it heaven or what?"

c.2006 Ida Tomshinsky

April 3: I Love to Go in the Capricious Days

"I love to go in the capricious days of April and hung violets; when the rain is in the blue cups trembling, and they nod so gracefully to the kisses of the wind. It may be deem'd too idle, but the young read nature like the manuscript of heaven, and call the flowers its poetry. Go out! Ye spirits of habitual unrest, and read it when the "fever-of-the-world!" Hath made your hearts impatient, and, if life hath yet one spring unpoisoned, it will be like a beguiling music to its flow, and you will no more wonder that I love to hunt for violets in the April time." Nathabiel Parker Willis

April 2: A Violet by a Mossy Stone

APRIL

"A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye,

Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky."

William Wordsworth

April 1: Welcome to Poetry Month

Welcome to Poetry Month. For the next thirty days, I will offer a poem each day, and I hope you will enjoy, comment, share, and pass along the works you love to others who may want to read them.

"Cats on the Tree" by Ida Tomshinsky

There are these trees on the beach,

Grove of trees in a bunch,

You know, the ones that shook by the wind

And painted by sun in green ink.

Their big size leaves shelter the cats.

I speak for the rats,

"Cats on the tree,

Don't mistake them with flying bee."

Above the table and bench,

Peacefully roosted on the branch

Cats occupying the tree;

And this is the essential key -

The trees, the ones that shock by the wind

And painted by sun in green ink.

These cats do not know

The nature's flow.

That they are NOT the tweedy birds,

By any odds.

Pretty picture for observance,

Sin on, and enjoy the tree residence.

Unusual assembly

Will demise untimely.

Rest your eye on

Until it still go on!

2010 IT