Iron Poet, Round XIII.

[cadhla]

Welcome to the latest round of Iron Poet, the game where you give me three words and I give you a poem. This is an adaptation of a standard writer's workshop activity, and I do not claim the original concept. I just claim to enjoy doing it

Comments

[cadhla]

February came and February went,
A wily beast, draped in gray,
Wrapped in the tattered shrouds of
New Year's Resolutions left unfulfilled,
Phone calls unreturned, promises unkept.
It scuttled, scurried, disappeared into
The weeds of March, which swore it would be better.
March always lies.

Now April stands before us, pretty April,
Petaled April, rain-drenched April,
Gowned in gold and gowned in green,
Maiden among months, and I find that I
Have no more faith in me; I cannot trust
That anything she says will be made true.
April rarely lies.
April just...forgets.

So here I am, standing at the travel center,
Suitcase in my hand, calendar scars upon my heart.
My escape will be some other hemisphere,
Some other set of seasons,
Where the months may lie,
And the rains may fall,
But at least I won't
Have heard it all
Before.

[kyleri]

Oh wow, yes. Yes.

Thank you.