Sing the Song of Success…

October 2015 1Success signs still small songs
shining shimmering in the sunlight
success slides silently between
silk sheets of sorrow
and smiles from sympathetic witnesses
sitting on the sidelines
singing their own songs
success stirs the pot
sprinkles spices liberally
sets the table
with ordinary dishes
serves up sumptuous portions
of chocolate covered gruel
that tastes disturbingly sensual
is that still small space
inside your soul
that smiles in the silent darkness
and shouts yes, quietly, in your brain



This poem brought to you by the OctPoWriMo prompt for today… and the number three (not 11… I started late)


DSC01531Once upon a lifetime dreary
I walked the earth succinct and weary
Over a many days, life became a bore
and then
Finally, again
I heard the song
And I began again to dance

I remembered slowly at first
tentative steps
between silence and starlight
tentative became lively
and lively became life

And here we find ourselves
shiny tin hat
tiny orange wings
bare feet in the snow
rainbow of colors
clinging to every conceivable
place in my world
and I dance

hear your own tuba
who needs to march to a drum
Thrill to whatever music
your heart can hear
the past is behind you
the beauty within you
dance to your magic
live for your dreams

Morning Music

20130918-061938.jpgYou clomped down
the morning stairs
and shouted into the dark
“Hey, you’re up”
“What, no music”
but no
the music
my music
morning music
was shattered
but not before it found its place

Crickets and Cicadas sing songs of darkness
one to the other
to no one but themselves
they call to the owl
who calls to
the far off train
who calls back
the deer
gently stepping on
autumn leaves
breathing in the breeze
that stirs
the wind chimes
bringing tradition to their song
they sing
the morning song
the song
calls gently
but certainly not silently
to my soul

Yes, my darlings
in the still of the darkness
I hear
and I listen
to the song

The Voices In My Head

Step straight up
and straight down
your feet won’t get wet from the dew
And it doesn’t work
but that’s okay because sometimes
the cold wet is welcome
and sometimes
decades later
you find yourself
Stepping straight up
and straight down
and it still doesn’t work
your feet still get wet
your heart catches
and you are there

The oven can wait on the cake
the cake can never wait

Don’t let the pans touch
in the oven
where they touch will burn
I wonder…
will it?

a peck of dirt
tomato poison

Don’t waste time
Isn’t she cute thinking she doing
anything that matters

Take the right classes
make the right choices
learn a trade in case
your husband leaves you
college prep
teach this, teach that, to this, no wait
follow my dreams
no mine
when do I get to follow my own

The voices
that haunt
the silence
they speak
the loudest
their message
the echos
that remain









Morning settles
silent, cool and damp
I stand in the middle of it all
one with the peace
for thirty seconds
I begin
to explore the silence
still at awe
keys jingling
stepping high, and straight up
without conscious thought
to keep my feet dry
it didn’t work
as it never has
and still
through the dew
feet cold and wet
I become one with the morning
and lose myself


Author: April Wells
Updated June 26, 2015

Brazil again


So… work has taken me back to Brazil. The new hotel is way way better than the last.  The water is hot.  I can control the temperature in my room.  And I slept. 
I’m tired… bone tired… but this morning looks better than last night did. 
I had to suck it up and take a water pill… my legs weren’t happy and it creeps me out to be able to leave finger prints in my shins.  But between the sleep and the meds this morning is way better.


The city is starting to wake up.  Dawn is starting to touch the sky.  It’s going to be a long ten days but it will be good to see the project through.