Sunday,
It may be a while before I post another poem. So, my reader(s) you'll have to do with this last one. Again, this a few short poems that were written first as posts on Facebook. They also revolve around a central theme, rain. It's late July and we here in Oklahoma have had a LOT more rain than we are use to. It was a pleasant surprise.
It may be a while before I post another poem. So, my reader(s) you'll have to do with this last one. Again, this a few short poems that were written first as posts on Facebook. They also revolve around a central theme, rain. It's late July and we here in Oklahoma have had a LOT more rain than we are use to. It was a pleasant surprise.
Random Chance
of Rain
1
… AND it's
still raining
a steady, light rain
like sparrows cry
not like crows do
who thunder
far too loud
who linger
far too long
on their own
sorrows
a steady, light rain
like sparrows cry
not like crows do
who thunder
far too loud
who linger
far too long
on their own
sorrows
2
Shall I sing
of shadows
pounding out the dents
the summer worked
so hard to print
to layout in fire and stone
only to be
washed away
by a sandpaper storm
pounding out the dents
the summer worked
so hard to print
to layout in fire and stone
only to be
washed away
by a sandpaper storm
that smooth the
edges
of a rainy
thought
from a deluge
to a soft
shower
that spring
could wear
leisurely
around
her shoulders
3
I wish the
rain would stay
not wander off
not wander off
from place to place
like it always does
like you always do
when your sun
comes up
like it always does
like you always do
when your sun
comes up
4
Thick, wondrous clouds
black and white
afloat upon a greying sky.
I've hoped all day that they
won't go away until they drain
us, repeat that gentle rap
of wet, cool rain that beat
against the windowsill last night
5
Clouds hang
like paintings
in God's gallery... I wonder
will He serve hors d'oeuvres,
will the artist make an appearance?
And if He does what do I say?
"Yes, very nice, although you might
add a tiny bit of rain."
in God's gallery... I wonder
will He serve hors d'oeuvres,
will the artist make an appearance?
And if He does what do I say?
"Yes, very nice, although you might
add a tiny bit of rain."
6
I seldom think
of you, but if I must
I think of you
as rain stomping on
the roof inside
my head like tiny
hooves of
reindeer would, or like
butterflies
that have lost their way
and smashed
themselves to death
upon the
windowpane of the only
window in the
house that isn’t blind.
Yes, I think
of you as rain, the kind
that whistles while it jerks my mind
around, splatters
its memories against
my memory until
I fear remembering
at all. How
you came into my life
wet with life
and left muddy prints
upon the
carpet when you finally
said goodbye
and evaporated
into sun…
yeah, if I must, I think
of you as rain
that comes and goes
when it
pleases, when you need
to be
thought about, when you
need someone to
remember your
ever changing
weather patterns.
—rrw o7-28-13
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