Tag Archives: April

Archived? ‘Farewell, April!’

‘Farewell, April!’

In the late 21st Century April fell out of use. It was renamed Shower.

Soon after, all of the months were renamed to suit their most apt tempers.

Thus we ended up with Ice, Snow, Hail, Heat, Wind and the rest.

Strangely enough, the months acclimatised themselves to the new names and for a month at a time everybody knew exactly what the weather would be.



Prompt: April

LWG Prompt ‘April’ for 17/04/2018

After Winter had finally released its hold on the year, there came the flourishing of a notable Spring.

April, May, and then June had arrived within about twenty minutes of each other; they were the fourth, fifth and sixth children to be born to the ever expanding Calendar family. All the preceding children had been boys, so Linda Calendar was extremely pleased that she had at last given birth to a daughter, or three as the case was, with which to balance the previously male-dominant family. Callum Calendar would have liked the new arrivals to have been further boys; but, he loved his wife and perhaps having three girls at once would finally sate her need for more children, now that she had gained the elusive daughter.

Luckily for the Calendars, they lived in a very old and rambling, medium-sized, early Tudor mansion that had been handed down largely intact through the generations – the family, now numbering eight, still managed to rattle around the parts of Calendar Manor that were still habitable.

Although the girls were triplets they weren’t identical, and they grew up with their own individual personalities and distinctive characters.

April was all that the oldest girl amongst the siblings could be; a leader, who bossed her elder brothers, as well as her younger sisters, into being active and industrious. This made her father love April the best of his three daughters, though, in fairness, he did try to be impartial and equal-handed to all of his offspring.

May was dismayed at not having been born the eldest, often querying if who had actually crossed the birthing finishing line first was in fact correct; but, she loved her parents, her brothers, and her younger sister, June, precisely for June’s position of being the youngest.

June was loved by everybody. She was kind, meek and mild – not a threat to anybody or anything; and, as such, she was considered worthy of respect and not a little favouritism amongst the boys.

As for the boys, they soon grew to schooling age, and were packed away for long periods of time to the Henry Greatorex Boarding School for Young Gentlemen, a few counties distant; and, when they did return for the various holidays, the weeks flew by for them in a flurry of active sporting pursuits, which the three girls avoided if at all possible – April and May disliking anything to do with ‘boyish’ games, and June, because she was considered too young by a few minutes or so, was not readily welcomed into the rough and tumble of the thrill of the chase.

The girls sought their own adventures.

April liked hide and seek, always with her doing the hiding and the others, usually just her sisters, doing the seeking.

It was often the case that April was intentionally ‘not found’ for long stretches of time, even when she chose easy places to discover. May and June would walk around the house and gardens calling April’s name, with little interest in actually finding her – for that signalled that the whole dismal process would inevitably have to start all over again.

That was, until one day, when April found a really great place to hide – she didn’t know it, but it was an old Priest’s Hole from the time of Elizabeth the First.

April had only found it by chance when she had tried to hide in the recess to the side of their massive fireplace. The hidden door swung open and in popped April, quietly pulling the door to behind her.

That was her error.

With no one knowing of the existence of the Priest’s Hole, nor of April having gone there…

The opening of the door from the inside was beyond her skill, and April tore her finger-nails desperately trying to get it to release her.

In the dark and eerie silence of the enclosed space, April could only shout out until her voice could not shout out any longer.

It doesn’t take too long to die when you have nothing to eat, and it’s much quicker if you have no water.

Whichever way, it isn’t a pleasant way to go.

April passed.

May become the eldest daughter, somewhat to her quiet delight.

And June followed May, missing April, and always keeping a look out for her arrival when the Spring came, quietly calling April’s name as she sadly walked about the house and gardens.

“Aprille is the Cruelest Month!”

Aprille is the cruelest munth

Was written in a poem wunth

I know because I read it twithe

It was very long and not that nithe;

May doth follow quite soon after

Then June and inevitably July

And on they go

And on they go

A never-ending stream of munths

It happens thuth

I know not why.

April is the… #NaPoWriMo


“Twenty- four hours
Twenty-four days
Twenty-four April showers
Twenty-four ways to get soaking wet

But, April, with her downpours sweet,
Is almost gone
Soon she’ll wave goodbye, bid ‘Adieu!’ sound the retreat
And will leave us until
Another year comes calling.

It is the ‘cruelest’ month
By some accounts
Or the ‘curliest’ by mine
Who knows which is correct;
But, I think that mine is funkier
Be it less literary-minded
And only seen by a few
One of whom is you
Now, how on earth did you get into my poem?
No matter; you are actually very welcome
And have added some ‘Je n’ai sais quoi’ to it; whatever…
In fact, you are now the iCandy in my ‘Glocken’ spiel
Now, how does that make you feel?”

(Insert answer here)

Really? I thought that you would have been more erudite
In spite of your unpreparedness
For fame and fortune

(There will be little of either)

But, cudos is as cudos does
So a wise man recently said;
He was very humble, too
(And ‘no’ it wasn’t you)

As I was saying,
April awaits to absence itself again
With ‘Arrivederci!’ poised in readiness upon its pursed lips-
Which is a personification
If ever I saw one.

So prepare to say ‘Farewell!’
And ‘Until we meet again!’
Some showery day.

Whan That Aprill Comes by Graeme Sandford


Aprill has but thirty days

To live.

And, though She is not yet born,

I deem that She has much to give.


She’ll shower us with sweet-limb’d praise

That oft will take the form of rain

And, though She’s cruel in other ways

Inspires She doth in holt and heth



And, after Aprill, what May come?