While the half is drown,
And half dry is frown,
Half facing a scarcity,
Half suffering from availability,
Half is waiting impatiently,
Half is out due to plenty,
On half it’s flood,
On half it’s dead bloods,
Somewhere hope to dry,
Somewhere tears dry,
Some are tensed to low,
Some are waiting for flow,
Why is it so, don’t know,
Answer we all know.
More at https://theapwrites.wordpress.com/.
My paper umbrella
melted in the rain.
Pulp tears cascaded
to the ground.
I was a paper doll,
who rode an invisible train.
The tea set caught water.
The mud cookies crumbled.
Playtime was postponed until
another day.
Sitting here in this pagoda
In the rain
Is beautiful
I am full of sadness
also pathos
is poetic sorrow
inside a poetic sunroom
watching rain
More at http://angeledwardspoetry.com.
Spring storm
Sky is heavy with gray clouds
I can feel the wind pressing down
On them to wring water from their grasp
That same air fills my nose
with pollen from the
seemingly fresh breezes, then,
perversely presses down my lungs
to prevent my inhaling a full breath.
My head begins to hurt.
I return inside,
close my eyes a cool cloth
shielding them from reflected light
until I hear the crash of thunder.
My eyes peer out at gray, darkness
where there had been blue,
dark clouds hover where earlier
white fluff skittered playfully about.
Now, wind is in charge,
wringing the water out of those
dark shapes to great effect.
Standing now, by the window,
I watch water stream down
hear it pound steadily on my roof.
When wind and rain have spent themselves,
I open the door and pull in lighter air
free of water’s weight, free of pollen.
Air fills my lungs with
coolness. The pressure on my head
relaxes. Water has washed away
sun’s vise-like grip on the day.
Others may run from beach, walks, from
plein aire garden sketching when rain comes,
but I rejoice, revel in the rain.
“I was about to fall,
Going to lose my identity,
By blending myself,
With rain water,
Cuz I was,
Born to blend!
Meanwhile,
The kindest plant,
Extended its hand,
And caught me,
Now,
I, delicate ball,
Resting,
In the green bed,
And singing
kindness costs nothing”
when the sky folds noisily in two
when the clouds flash pictures of earth
will you hold me like a rainbow
holds a colour?
I dread the winter’s coming on
The trees without their dressings
I fear the winter’s dark, cold moan
Long shadows without blessings
Bare tree limbs are upward reaching
Where the sunlight seems to fail
I hear the sound of great owls screeching
Trees look like witch”s fingernails
I hate the cold that winter brings
Dark, dank weather for each day
It seems as if I’ll never sing
Or see again sun’s lovely rays
My body aches and hollow feels
Furnace and fireplace are roaring on
But to me they don’t seem real
No heat can reach into my bones
Oh, winter will you last so long
With dreary rain and colder mist
Oh, how I wish that you were gone
And Spring would put on me it’s kiss