The Ending Of April

I suppose to start this thing off, i should post a short narrative, rather a poem, that i created for a Mrs. coulter in my sophomore year of high school. enjoy and try to guess what the poem is about.

So here I sit, in my living room, contemplating April’s end,

The saturnine feelings within me I cannot mend,

Outside of my window it looks as if a typhoon were raging,

With rivulets of cold water running down it bloating.

Trying to battle my emotions is a Sisyphean effort,

Which takes away all my will to exert,

From my stereo terpsichorean music arises,

It reaches a stentorian crescendo which surprises.

Music is tiring and I switch on the television,

            To a court show with a solon and a bailsman,

The sphinx of a judge sits there waiting,

As the opposing forces begin their battling.

How boring, I think, and read the newspaper full of vileness

            Some new grime on a siren of an actress,

Rumor had it she caught some diseases,

            That once spread, created some cheeses,

It was of the venereal type,

            The disease that created this hype,

Perhaps it was also terminal in action,

It is an outcome with no satisfaction.

Such the life of a thespian can be,

And to this anybody will agree.

This too, soon loses its touch, and I listen to the city outside,

            And to the bar below with its satyrs safely inside,

The time has come for my appointment,

            As I cautiously leave the apartment.

The sky is stygian in origin,

            I’m walking among the vermin.

The walk for me is titanic

            The looks of people make me panic,

A crazy man on the corner shouts sibylline praises,

            But all I hear are farces,

I listen still to his tantalizing views,

            That is, until he starts talking bad about the Jews.

I pass by the fence,

 And I can feel the suspense,

At this event I venerate,

            It would seem I’m a bit late,

She herself looks vestal in that dress,

            Almost like a princess.

A zephyr passes by my face,

            I feel slightly out of place,

But continue where I am standing

            As the reverend continues his babbling,

The ceremony ends and tears burst forth like a volcano,

            I remain standing and watch the guests go,

And when safe I walk toward the patch of dirt,

            And ask for forgiveness trying to be curt.

When my deed is done I leave her lying where she was left,

            All of my past sins are now bereft,

I walk away trying not to offend,

            And I leave my dear sister April, to her end.