Write a poem in which you explore what you think is the cruelest month, and why.
Twelve months there are
But pick just one
I don't care
As long's we've sun
The cruelest month it must be April
previously it wasn't hateful
April leaves me pretty shaken
Frozen land it does awaken
Mother's birth it was the fourth
Bravely traveled to the north
There I cared for her as able
Health-wise she was quite unstable
Anniversary on the twelfth
Celebrations we did shelve
Now they've passed I try remember
Bad memories I must surrender
Next in line my brother Robin
In my life he tends to bob in
Birthday his the twenty-first
Communication: he's the worst
I turn my face out towards the sun
Healing bells they have been rung
Crocus peek up in the garden
Cold of winter we can pardon
"It's my birthday, I want it in the green bowl!"
I couldn't do anything right! Mom died 6 weeks later. Dad, at the time, was having radiation treatments. They'd been married from 1945 to 2006. During this time, I was pretty stressed, living in the unheated cottage. It helps to write about it.
3 comments:
April is one of those months that can't make up its mind.
Wow, that was a stressful time. I remember my Dad couldn't find the barn so he could feed his horses. I couldn't get him away from that idea. However, as you say it's good to go back over those memories.
Yes, it does help to write about it ...
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