The Cruelest Month
I usually write poems in April, for NaPoWriMo and/or National Poetry Month, but sometimes, they appear elsewhere.  Nevertheless, April is often the Cruelest Month, as T.S. Eliot said, so The Cruelest Month, it is.
Featured Poem

"Middle Age 1"
The minutes pour away like treacle,
last dregs on the side of the jar
that never seems to empty.
Waiting, trapped and transfixed
by the clock's hands,
you muddle through
the motions
of your
life.
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Poetry by Barbara Walton