Doing the Needful


Lake Erie on New Years Day 2016

Into the wild
into the cold
that bites
that chews
that freezes
and steals the breath
angry lake
the anger
and fear
that chew at my insides
yet here is where
I run
to feel the frozen sand
beneath my booted feet
to touch
what grounds me
to steal
the bits and pieces
of the eternal
pink and yellow glass
sharp edges knocked smooth
stones worn away
a moment in time
that fits so exactly
filling the hole
that needed to be eased

author: April Wells
published: January 2, 2016


My Knuckle Bump HandSnippets heard
and overheard
as the world turns round and round
yes, arthritis in my ankles
my tendinitis screams at me
these aches and pains
are killing me
it must be getting old
thank God it’s not RA

Jean was told she would need
her hip replaced in may
Bob just heard
the scary word
the bump he found was tumor benign
surgery went fine,
we have dinner at nine
Ethel heard that Gladys know
a friend of a friend has gout
so many people
so much is wrong
but at least it’s not RA

The things you hear
from those far and near
words plaintive with fear
as the path you walk, dear,
you walk with the knowing
As they whisper and fuss
you do what you must
to deal with your RA



Do you see the candle dance
we shiver together in the darkness
the too loud silence
scraping fingernails on
the chalkboard of the night
Crickets and coffee caress
pre-dawn draws
the life from the night
and all that is being done
has been done
all that is left
is the crushing silence
that is so loud
it screams

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)


her whole world
washed out and gray
lacking all luster
to make it through the day
nothing she did
helped her heart shine
she wore no smile
I tried to give her mine
superficial beauty
kissed every feature
her heart was frightened
a lonely creature
yet in the quiet darkness
beneath the shine of the stars
she came to understand
her dreams matter as much as ours

Hiding in Plain Sight

I wrap myself
in the warm silence
of anonymity
I walk among you
one of you
yet not quite of you
You see me
you step around me on the sidewalk
you avert your gaze
so I know you see me
or you would never even bother
into this life of fiction
I crawl
hiding in plain sight
of anyone
who might care to see
but no one sees
no one cares
no one bothers
to even try to understand

Morning Matters

Morning Matters
Silence that’s almost
but not quite
that wraps the heart
in calm surrender
to the coming day
Solitude of the rush
and tumble of the commute
coffee cold, but not quite
overnight in the garage in the truck
coffee is coffee
dawn reflects badly
in the tar and asphalt
of the inner city morning
join the fray
become the flotsam and jetsam
that is the work-a-day world
and through it all
keep with you
the solitude and silence
that reminds you
morning matters

The Knight in the Tin Foil Helmet

Into the silent darkness
atop his trusty steed
he rides
sword and crossbow
always at the ready
into the battles he sees
of slings and arrows
and the unfairness of things
just his trusty rusty steed to give him wings
his journey’s taken him
far afield
through the barrens
as well as the magic lands
where everyone dreams
and so many fear to tread
the stories he hears
join the ones in his mind
to create his wonderous worlds
the tales he hears
of armor that shines
warm in the mid day sun
the gleam and the glisten
of untested mettle
the attention and glory it brings
he sees them ride
atop handsomest mounts
the praise they seek
those of the armor that shines
not for him it seems
for through the darkness
atop his mount
through the battles he’s fought
pain and loneliness he’s come
the scars that he wears
has made him this man
this gentle and strongest of men
and when at night
he lays down his head
to sleep the rest of the weary
he takes off his helmet
his tinfoil helmet
and by his side gently keeps
for this is the helmet
dented tinfoil helmet
is really all that he needs
he rests his head
his helmetless head
at the end of his well fought day
in the arms of his love
that gentle his mind
and into slumber he falls
for he is the knight
in the tinfoil helmet
his armor is dented and worn
but the battles he’s seen
and the trials he’s known
make the man that you see here now
and the love that he knows
in his tinfoil helmet
the love that carries him through
the simple love for this gentle man
and the tinfoil helmet he wears
the most precious treasure of a man

Picking Berries

Memories wash over
like waves in the ocean
making sea glass
from the sharp pain
dulling the edges
the glass
can still cut

I sit
scrolling through
finding the places
where I can take the edges
and test them
for the pain
I know is still there

Regrets, stupid I know
can’t go back
change the past
and if I could
would I?
I look at the beauty
of my sea glass
and know that
were it not for the brokenness
the beauty would not be there

Like picking the berries of my childhood
you save the biggest
for the other people
the one who pay for
the privilege of the best
next come the ones
sweeter that the last
because in their smallness and imperfections
you find the amazing flavor
these I treasure
and the ones that are past
the furry
the far less perfect
those I poke at
with regret
in all there is specialness
(yes, it’s a word, it’s a word now)
in all there is beauty
yet in my regret
I find the edges
of the pain