Thirty Daze in April - 1. April 1 to April 7

I have always distanced myself from poetry, perhaps because I've never really understood it. Sometimes I think I try too hard to understand it; looking for things that aren't there, but this, Parker was a joy to read. It provided the perfect antidote to a stressful day.

I particularly liked April 5, because I can remember feeling the same way while staring out the classroom window. April 4, because it has such a happy feel to it, and April 3, because who hasn't fallen for a handsome nerd in their time?

I think this will strike a chord with many readers and I'm looking forward to the rest of the month.

Wonderful, as always.

I think my favourites are 3 and 4. 3 because wearing the foul tie has a delightful consequence that was probably not foreseen by the donor no matter how much thought and good intention had gone into choosing the present. 4 I like for the cadence of the repeated form - and your willingness to stand guard against your small friends’s enemies. (Too many of the cats that live near me are the bird-murdering sort).

6 had me visualise that stand of Scotch pines holding firm on the brow of the hill. Hawthorn used to mean hedges when I was younger but now I can see them as the trees they are meant to be with the intrigue of their twisted forms and indented foliage now, in spring, a first flush of vivid green, almost as delightful in leaf bud as in flower. Not forgetting their bounteous harvest for your feathered friends later in the year. As for willow shedding cynical crocodile tears - I can see the shallowness you imply.

Thanks for a delightful start to the month.

April 1: Yes, that's him. 

April 3 makes me smile

April 2 for me is  adamant hope 

April 4 I read with bated breath

April 5 out, out

April 6 I need to find out why Goethe's Die  Leiden des jungen Werther came to mind.

April 7 makes me sad. Why?

I've seen that fey youth dancing hereabout ...

I've felt compelled to wear a bad tie on occasion, sadly there was no handsome nerd.

Little bird, little bird ... here it is a pair of bluebirds nesting in the box outside the sunroom window.

Oh, the joys just beyond that glass, surely we'll soon be set free.

I've never seen a hawthorn other than in the words of those who have.

I too once knew a brown and white horse. She was the first I was free to ride at will. We travelled many miles together she and I.

These are lovely words Parker.

8 hours ago, Dodger said:

I have always distanced myself from poetry, perhaps because I've never really understood it. Sometimes I think I try too hard to understand it; looking for things that aren't there, but this, Parker was a joy to read. It provided the perfect antidote to a stressful day.

I particularly liked April 5, because I can remember feeling the same way while staring out the classroom window. April 4, because it has such a happy feel to it, and April 3, because who hasn't fallen for a handsome nerd in their time?

I think this will strike a chord with many readers and I'm looking forward to the rest of the month.

Thank you, Dodger! I am so very happy these connected with you. I’m especially glad you liked April 4; it was a bit of an experiment. Like you, I saw poetry as something distant and mysterious. Then I found @AC Benus‘s Poetry Prompts, and they re-opened that world for me. 

5 minutes ago, dughlas said:

I've seen that fey youth dancing hereabout ...

I've felt compelled to wear a bad tie on occasion, sadly there was no handsome nerd.

Little bird, little bird ... here it is a pair of bluebirds nesting in the box outside the sunroom window.

Oh, the joys just beyond that glass, surely we'll soon be set free.

I've never seen a hawthorn other than in the words of those who have.

I too once knew a brown and white horse. She was the first I was free to ride at will. We travelled many miles together she and I.

These are lovely words Parker.

 

Dugh, I’m so glad you liked these. I envy you your bluebirds; they never fail to lift my heart. There are some days when it’s just as much torture to teach as it is to be a student in class... I hope an April friend will cross your path today. Thank you so much for reading and for responding. 

2 hours ago, aditus said:

April 1: Yes, that's him. 

April 3 makes me smile

April 2 for me is  adamant hope 

April 4 I read with bated breath

April 5 out, out

April 6 I need to find out why Goethe's Die  Leiden des jungen Werther came to mind.

April 7 makes me sad. Why?

 

Thank you, Adi, for reading these and reflecting on them. April 7 is a little melancholy: she’s gone now, my old white and brown friend. But I was fortunate to know her. Let me know how the association brought to mind in April 6 came about. I’m glad April 3 made you smile. I still grin at it, too. Funny that I think of April 4 as a lullaby. Perhaps it is the rhythm of it. I want to pry open April 2’s door. And I’m glad we have a mutual friend in April 1. 

5 hours ago, Pedro1954 said:

Wonderful, as always.

I think my favourites are 3 and 4. 3 because wearing the foul tie has a delightful consequence that was probably not foreseen by the donor no matter how much thought and good intention had gone into choosing the present. 4 I like for the cadence of the repeated form - and your willingness to stand guard against your small friends’s enemies. (Too many of the cats that live near me are the bird-murdering sort).

6 had me visualise that stand of Scotch pines holding firm on the brow of the hill. Hawthorn used to mean hedges when I was younger but now I can see them as the trees they are meant to be with the intrigue of their twisted forms and indented foliage now, in spring, a first flush of vivid green, almost as delightful in leaf bud as in flower. Not forgetting their bounteous harvest for your feathered friends later in the year. As for willow shedding cynical crocodile tears - I can see the shallowness you imply.

Thanks for a delightful start to the month.

 

I’m very glad you read these, and I am grateful for your response. April 3 just about wrote itself; I wasn’t sure where it wanted to take me at first. A hawthorn tree here is about the size of an apple tree, and just as tough. 

9 hours ago, Valkyrie said:

These are all great, Parker, written with your usual finesse.    The first makes me picture fairies or birds playing in spring puddles.  The last line of the second packs a powerful punch.  I want to see the tie you wore on April 3rd   I loved the repetition in four and the unique view of the bird feeder.  Five brings me back to school daze and wanting to be anywhere but on the wrong side of that glass.  I think my favorite is the pines of number six.  And I love the imagery of the willow. I'm wrong... I think the horse on the hill is my favorite.  Well done   I can't wait to see what the rest of the month brings. 

Thanks, Val! I’m very glad you enjoyed these. I know you would have liked my old friend on the hill. My April 3 tie is in the back of my tie rack. The pines got planted in regimented rows - even after years of storms and bad winters, they still look like soldiers in formation. Thanks for reading and reflecting on these. 

I found the part: 

 Die Einsamkeit ist meinem Herzen köstlicher Balsam in dieser paradiesischen Gegend, und diese Jahreszeit der Jugend wärmt mit aller Fülle mein oft schauderndes Herz. Jeder Baum, jede Hecke ist ein Strauß von Blüten, und man möchte zum Maienkäfer werden, um in dem Meer von Wohlgerüchen herumschweben und alle seine Nahrung darin finden zu können. (Goethe, Die Leiden des jungen Werther.)

I apologize for my clumsy translation: Loneliness is delicious balm to my heart in this paradisiac part of the country, and this season of youth warms with abundance, my often shivering heart. Every tree, every hedge is a bouquet of flowers, and one wants to become a maybug to float around in the sea of fragrances and to be able to find sustenance in it. "(Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther.

11 minutes ago, aditus said:

I found the part: 

 Die Einsamkeit ist meinem Herzen köstlicher Balsam in dieser paradiesischen Gegend, und diese Jahreszeit der Jugend wärmt mit aller Fülle mein oft schauderndes Herz. Jeder Baum, jede Hecke ist ein Strauß von Blüten, und man möchte zum Maienkäfer werden, um in dem Meer von Wohlgerüchen herumschweben und alle seine Nahrung darin finden zu können. (Goethe, Die Leiden des jungen Werther.)

I apologize for my clumsy translation: Loneliness is delicious balm to my heart in this paradisiac part of the country, and this season of youth warms with abundance, my often shivering heart. Every tree, every hedge is a bouquet of flowers, and one wants to become a maybug to float around in the sea of fragrances and to be able to find sustenance in it. "(Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther.

 

Thank you for finding and sharing this! Here indeed is an essential joy of April and May.

  I most always find your poetry relatable (okay... not the math ones  ), and this is true of these. If I had to pick a favorite,  a difficult thing to do, it would have to be April 7. I think my old brown and white mare, who walks her garden as we speak, would agree.

Your poems here makes me think of this one; a high compliment to your skills indeed  

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
The maddest noise that grows --
The birds, they make it in the spring,
At night's delicious close.

Between the March and April line --
That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
Almost too heavenly near.

It makes us think of all the dead
That sauntered with us here,
By separation's sorcery
Made cruelly more dear.

It makes us think of what we had,
And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
Would go and sing no more.

An ear can break a human heart
As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
So dangerously near.

Emily Dickinson 

4 hours ago, aditus said:

I found the part: 

 Die Einsamkeit ist meinem Herzen köstlicher Balsam in dieser paradiesischen Gegend, und diese Jahreszeit der Jugend wärmt mit aller Fülle mein oft schauderndes Herz. Jeder Baum, jede Hecke ist ein Strauß von Blüten, und man möchte zum Maienkäfer werden, um in dem Meer von Wohlgerüchen herumschweben und alle seine Nahrung darin finden zu können. (Goethe, Die Leiden des jungen Werther.)

I apologize for my clumsy translation: Loneliness is delicious balm to my heart in this paradisiac part of the country, and this season of youth warms with abundance, my often shivering heart. Every tree, every hedge is a bouquet of flowers, and one wants to become a maybug to float around in the sea of fragrances and to be able to find sustenance in it. "(Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther.

 

I can see why Parker's words brought this to mind. Thanks for finding and sharing with us.

25 minutes ago, AC Benus said:

Your poems here make me think of this one; a high compliment to your skills indeed  

 

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
The maddest noise that grows --
The birds, they make it in the spring,
At night's delicious close.

Between the March and April line --
That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
Almost too heavenly near.

It makes us think of all the dead
That sauntered with us here,
By separation's sorcery
Made cruelly more dear.

It makes us think of what we had,
And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
Would go and sing no more.

An ear can break a human heart
As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
So dangerously near.

Emily Dickinson 

 

 

And this is why I am so intrigued by AC's poetry reviews. He reads your words and they bring forth the words of others ...

2 hours ago, AC Benus said:

Your poems here make me think of this one; a high compliment to your skills indeed  

 

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
The maddest noise that grows --
The birds, they make it in the spring,
At night's delicious close.

Between the March and April line --
That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
Almost too heavenly near.

It makes us think of all the dead
That sauntered with us here,
By separation's sorcery
Made cruelly more dear.

It makes us think of what we had,
And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
Would go and sing no more.

An ear can break a human heart
As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
So dangerously near.

Emily Dickinson 

 

 

This is such a fantastic poem. I’m immensely grateful you set it out here, still more that you found a connection between it and this first installment for 2019. You are most generous in reading and commenting on them. 

3 hours ago, Headstall said:

  I most always find your poetry relatable (okay... not the math ones  ), and this is true of these. If I had to pick a favorite,  a difficult thing to do, it would have to be April 7. I think my old brown and white mare, who walks her garden as we speak, would agree.

Thank you so much Gary. I fed and watered and cared for that horse as my summer job when I was 13 and 14, in addition to yard and garden work. We became friends, and I remember her fondly.