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Narrative Rain Poems | Narrative Poems About Rain

These Narrative Rain poems are examples of Narrative poems about Rain. These are the best examples of Narrative Rain poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Silver Strands

Slate gray streets made even darker by cutting raindrops
Umbrellas popping up everywhere, people seeking shelter

But I stayed put, wanting to get drained with the rain,
then I hear this tinkling voice that says, “Don’t you just love it when it rains?!”

I look at her wearily and her eyes actually gleam with laughter
Oh geez, this lady was my total opposite.  I was brooding, she was brimming.
I power-up my go away vibes, but she was like a darned magnet…
Was I the ferromagnetic one, or was she?

She gushed on the metaphor of rain in her life, and I didn’t feel like drowning.
Listening to her amidst the onslaught was so refreshing, making me thirstier…

There we were, two drenched souls, sitting on the pavement, chatting up a storm.
Of all her descriptions of rain, one in particular stood out for me…

Pearl drops strung on silver strands …

She said, “Rain for me would be silver strands streaking an otherwise somber sky…
pearl drops strung on silver strands, broken by the heavens to share with us.
See how precious it is?” Then she continued on with the metaphor for pearls…

Her words felt like windshield wipers to me, and I could see clearly now
By then, the rains had softened, and a lone pearl drop landed on her eyelashes
-that made me look closer at her eyes… her beautiful, wise, yet cloudy eyes…

I have never looked at rain the same way since then.

For Andrea's and Susan's Silver Strands contest

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A Wandering Soul

My soul wanders into places unknown,
Barren, what happened to the seeds sown?
Plenty of sunlight and rain, still nothing grows.
Leaves start to fall as a cold wind blows.

I wander within, reality and dreams,
Reality bites, or so it seems.
Realizations of things yet to come,
Dreams are the source, where they are from.

The world is in color, I remain black and white.
First comes the sun and then there is night.
Circles of life my soul wanders through,
Colors paint pictures of all that I view.

It’s been raining for days, it won’t relent.
I see time pass and then wonder where it went.
I see a reflection in a puddle on the ground,
Perhaps my mind is too tightly wound.

I try to fix a hole where the rain gets in,
But the rain has soaked in below my skin.
I reflect upon times spent in the sun,
But I’ve hopped within, the web I spun.

Still my soul wanders, looking for a place.
It all disappears, without leaving a trace.
My mind grows numb from all these thoughts,
While my soul searches, it is tied up in knots.

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A tale of two

He laughed, she laughed, together they loved.
They rode for hours to a destination of no where just listening to the rain.
Listening as it persistantly fell, drenching every thing it touched.
Each moment greater than the last.
Each smile Brighter
Each look longer
Each story better.
A memory being made by a day unmet
A sun unseen, a cloud unpassed
They conquered it together. 
A road un travelled became travelled by them
A story unfolding, two young people in love.
The rain continued, picked up its pace.
Falling faster and harder, no mercy at hand.
Creating a solid wall that no man could see through.
Dropping a hush over this new found love.
Blanketing these two souls with worry.
Darkness envelopes them as this mortal man loses control.
Careening off the road, unaware of even this.  
Unable to waken her love, she's forced to leave him in the flames
So hot, so unhumanely possible to fight them.
He perishes.
She survives.
Their love left behind.
The rain put out the flames.
His spirit is resting somewhere, atop a hill with a beautiful view, unbothered by the rain that falls. 
She will meet him again.
She will search until she does.
With no destination in mind her legs will take her there.
And there she will rest, her hand on his heart, curled in his arms.

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                                         The rush of swish against the shoreline
                                             The wind blowing swift by is a sign
                                     A storm a brewing, clattering, and shattering
                                       The thunder clapping a great sky battering
                                                  The waves swoosh higher up
                                           As you can get this sound like in a cup
                                               But more so just cover your hand
                                       Now the feeling of grit giving sound to sand
                                              Whoosh! the wind takes your hair
                                        It is fear-est when water spit as it declare
                                        War on your skin, with vibration that pings
                                        And the silence of slow blowing wind sings

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Atop that hill, in his heart

Lying atop a hill, he gazes into the sky. The world spins around, minutes passing by. 
The grass is dry but green, the lack of water has not yet started to slow its flourish. Time will bring that. He lies motionless. Arms at his side. Legs slightly spread. The wind blows softly. Gently. Brushing his cheeks with gentle fingers. Reminding him of an easier time. A touch so soft it's presence remains a question. It's existence remains a teasing stroke. Grey rain clouds folding into the light white clouds in such a way this man has not noticed. He continues on, unmoving. The first drop of rain must come as a surprise as it falls and lands atop his cheek, running down to meet with the grass. He doesn't flinch. He still doesn't blink. The next drop falls, and the next, followed by its sister waters. Soaking his face. He goes on unnerved. Perhaps this is a comfort. It allows his tears a place to run unseen. Without judgment. Providing a hidden release to a man who has not known the word in past. He hears nothing, senses no one. But she's there. Kneeling down, pressing herself into his arms. Not speaking. Just accepting him for who he is and what he's experienced. She also ignores the rain, the wind and the clouds. She runs her finger down his jaw line, down his neck, across his collar bone and rests it on his heart. It is there she settles in.

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Camping In The Rain

Is there anything MORE miserable Than camping in the rain If you know of something Write to me at “Soaked To The Bone” Underwater, Ontario, Canada This was my first time experience Camping in the great outdoors Of all weekends to choose from Weather could not have been worse Except perhaps a hurricane or a tornado This was my first time camping It may have been my last I trusted the official weather forecast Which predicted warm and sunny days For the next six... SILLY ME!!! © Jack Ellison 2014

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Heaven Shower Me

Heaven Shower Me
By Nate Spears

Tell me something good
Email me if you would
Rather than take a minute
Take my heart 
In a second 
If you could.

I’ll go through hell to reach you
Thank God and the heavens
For letting me meet you
God All Mighty
Lord knows I’ve been seeking you

You’ve been a blessing to my soul
Your heart is as good as gold
Where have you been all my life
Me or no one else knows

But you’re here now
 And I will always adore you
The magnitude of a good woman
Will bring sunshine to any mans morning
I’m just blessed to have had 
The Heaven’s Rains
To shower me on you.

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As I wait for death amid the calm.

I see through the window all of you.

No one can see me and the hearing is dying.

Ring in the New Year and my limbs reach for the warm.

Help me make one last stand.

I love the rain and your food for thought.

I wait patient , youthful and my sap stretched.

I long for your cool breeze and like a dog I bark in warning.

And as the axe falls I shudder and am diminished.

That door slammed angrily and while I wait the rain washes me.

No longer do I feel my age, I see your reflection and your sadness.

And as I slowly die I am placed on the stretcher and  I drink my last drop.

But as I lay quivering.

You bathe and place me at the door.

I am no longer naked as you dress me.

A light blinks on and the glitter and charm works.

The clothing is your finest saved by generations and my  balls are hung. 

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Because They Were In Love

I went to my cousin's wedding, she married an Italian. The wedding was in a huge church with a thousand stairs, or so it seemed. Anyways, while in the church, it rained, it was not just rain but a torrential downpour . . . Okay, so try to get down a thousand steps without tripping, wearing high heels in the rain . . . She had wanted an outdoor wedding. "No problem," said Dad. Canopy tents covered the backyard of a nice catered affair. The garage was the bar, tables set so elegant. It was nice, except for the storm, that refused to go away, in fact got worse. I will never forget the bride and groom at the head table, trying to smile while holding an umbrella . . . But, guess what, I don't think it mattered because, they were in love . . .
Written for My Cousin's Wedding Sponsored by Joann Grisette Third Place Featured poem September 9, 2014

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Princess of the Sky


Like the disappearing sun of yesterday                          
So has her childhood dissolved away                         
With two white steeds that are the trees                      
She is the leaf, marauder of the breeze                             
She rides against the wind
Her name is Rain
Born with the grain of knowing
Sight to the blind who cannot see tomorrow
Or view the valleys of the past

Be not envious of her rampant blood!
Where origins are buried in another world
Where voices speak in lost syllables
In a language of no forgetting
Where the laughter of the birds is still
And clouds shed only a torrent of tears
For she would rather turn her face to the sky
And feel the gentleness of the mist
She has a burning desire to be free
Free of the gift
Free of the burden
Free of the knowledge that has taken her innocence
A voice of the thunder calls her
Invites her to fly beyond the clouds
So the earth can be beautiful                                    
Where sun comes after the rain                         
Where the drought is over at last                       
Where the rain creates a rainbow                                   
She is the leaf.....maurader of the breeze                   
Her name is Rain     
But they call her Zodiac,....Princess of the sky


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A Twist of Fate

It is a Wednesday afternoon during the school year.
That means sixth-grader Sallee Jacobs will be walking home today.
Sallee's mother works in the emergency room on Wednesdays,
Otherwise she picks Sallee up at the school that is one mile from their home.

On this particular Wednesday, it is pouring down rain.

As Sallee reaches the half-way point, 
an empty stretch of road between two housing developments,
a red sedan pulls up next to her and the driver rolls down his window.

"Hi," shouts the man over the sound of the pouring rain beating down on the roof of his car, "your mother asked me to pick you up - come get in out of the rain."

Sallee simply stares at this stranger and quietly says, "No thank you", even though she is miserably soaking wet, cold and angry at her mother for working Wednesdays.

"It's okay," reassures the fully-bearded man, "my name is Mr. Thomas, and I am a friend of your mother."

Sallee studies his face, thinking, you don't look like any of my mom's friends.  "No thank you," she repeats as she starts backing away from the car.

Then, out of nowhere, another man appears at Sallee's side.  He is wearing a rain coat and flashes a reassuring smile.  He looks at Sallee and asks, "Is everything all right here?"

Sallee, simply looks at the man in the car.

"Everything is fine," says the man in the car, "Her mother asked me to pick her up out of the rain."

"Do you know this man?", the rain coat asks Sallee.


"Do you want to get into his car?"


"How far away do you live from here?"

"Just up the hill and across Madison."

"Are you okay walking there by yourself?"


There are now four cars lined up behind the red sedan.  They start honking their horns at the car in their way.

"I don't know, Mister," says the rain coated man, "I think you just best move along before I call the police."

The bearded man asks Sallee one more time, "Are you sure you don't want a ride?"

With water dripping down her face, Sallee shakes her head, yes.

The red sedan moves on.


It is 10:00 Wednesday night.  The red sedan is parked in front of Sallee's house.  Mr. Thomas holds Sallee's mother's hand while trying to describe to the police what the man in the raincoat looked like.  Sallee is never seen again.

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The Crops and the Cloud

A vast cloud came soaring over a field of crops in the early winter, the crops waited in despair for the cloud to rain but it never did. It just flew by without leaving a single droplet.
The crops however weren’t burnt and ruined because the winter was young and other clouds will come. Thus, someday it will rain before the summer comes and the crops die. The crops were still hopeful and nothing broke their spirit.
But as the world works on a cycle there’s always a chance that the same first cloud might come back and the crops will always be waiting for that rain.
The first cloud was forgotten by the crops, but if it passed by again it would be like a new opened page.

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Voice inside my head

'twas in a room in Blandford, on a bright spring day
When a voice within my head a whispering, whispering to my dismay
For the voice grew from a whisper , and it would not go away
The voice was dry and eerie, Like demons from the days of yore
So I was emboldened and challenged, what want est from me thou this day
And the voice replied sadistically, I'm here to take you away

Now you have read of the raven, from the pen of Edgar Allen Poe
And i'm a relative of the raven, and our lord wants you to know
That poets like you, increase the spirit of mere mortal men
So i'm here to maybe frighten, even more to stop you writing
And to even stop thee from creating hero's, like the poets from days of yore
If to stop thee I must kill thee, then I am willing for its a dead I have accomplished before

As the evil voice was cackling, my mind aghast was flapping
Wondering if today would be my last, and if I was bound for Hades shore
Then a voice so soft and tender, cried out spirit I demand your surrender 
And I looked and saw a hero, straight from Thermopalies  blood red shore
Stood with shining sword and shield, it was a warrior from Spartan lore
and the voice in my head quietened, and I knew I was safe for sure

Safety is but an illusion, in a world of hurt and pain
Sometimes the only victory, is for the sun to oust the rain
But 'im aware deep in my heart of hearts, that the rain will come again
So I must be like the sun, bold unshackled and free
So that when the rain returns I may be unwavering, and burn it away
And maybe ill be free for life eternal, like bold Homer in Dauntes tale of yore

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It is Here Again

It is Here Again

By BJ Welsh

It’s raining and raining as requested
The thought I’ve just really digested
Watching and staring as the raindrops fall
Who do you think would miss me after all?

I sit and wonder without nary an expression
Days pass to weeks with only further digression
Time it seems is not on my side
The rain I pray will never ever hide

Rain used to be such a welcome sight
To clean the earth from dirt and its’ blight
Now I look for only grey clouded skies
Matching the look and sadness in my eyes

The rain it seems must never ever end
For which it is my only dearest friend
I seek it out with such joy and delight
Watching and waiting sometimes all night

The rain’s come again to see me through
This life of misery is well past due
It’s soothing and a welcome pleasure too
For which I have but very few

Tomorrow is another day for rain?
I can only hope I’m still here and sane
To live to see it is but a dream
I’m not long for this world, or so it would seem

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The Golden Cup

there he sat, still an Restless
under the muddy light post
on the Slimy, Cruel hill

the Dust blew in a daze
and Mud spat in his face
the Rain began.

there he watched his home Bury away
his mother, father, sister, and son
fly deep into the waves

the Fog sat in, and sat thick
while the Wind roared in wheezing and pushing
the rain kept on

then came a rich, beautiful man
bearing a clean red cross on his chest
his smile sympathetic, but reason hollow

Depression crept in, slow and quiet
picked a spot and was made comfortable
the Rain crashed hard

but there, behind the clean blond hair
over the mud, and past the dirt
a smooth, white cloud beckoned.

his heart, blackened and crushed.
the Rain, deep and dark inside, had Stopped.

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Story of Alates

Alates, winged, flying termites 
or flying ants, harmless to others, 
leave the safety 
of their underground colonies 
after a prolonged rainy-day
in the tropical terrains.

Sensing appropriate conditions 
in surrounding environment of
warm temperatures, low winds
in an exodus, suddenly, synchronized, 
out of so many holes in the earth 
to settle in newer ones.

Alates shed their wings and crawl
as wingless bodies 
after a frantic swarm
get attracted by bright lights
to utilize the heat of lights
to dry themselves from the moisture 

Some females, potential future queens
majority males, disperse for a nuptial flight, 
often over the course of only a single day 
the males dying in abundance to reach females 
and the mated females disperse 
in attempts to establish a new colony each.

While alates are busy doing their acts
the blue jays, the crows, the pigeons, the sparrows
the lizards, the squirrels are all in glee
busy gorging on the hapless alates
lucky to be mightier and stronger.

A sight that reminds me of 
another act of  sacrifice, among many 
scripted by nature 
so that another can live now
and a progeny can be born again! 

Date write:22.7.2014

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Held back words

darkness,spurt,race.pound,redness,echostride.strut, tango roil. gather.burst. pent.crash,roll, run. shiver 

he strode through darkness, echoes of pounding pulsation spurt and race in
gathering redness.  His pace quickens as shapes shiver by. The tide runs back against crash of surf. Clouds roil 
above taking on color as intensity bursts and shudders. Purple green a flicker of warning followed immediately 
by a thunderous crash.  He stopped mid stride and smiled. just like that it was over. Rain washed down, 
plastering his shirt against his skin. He took off his glasses and put them in his wet pocket. The rain stopped as 
suddenly as it began. Clouds parted to reveal stars and a tender sliver of moon tipped toward a long set sun. He 
looked back to see her running barefoot  on his footsteps.  Joy pushed tears to blur his vision.They crushed 
together wordless hugging arms following hands in a tango of familiarity
He buried his face in the nape of her neck tasting the medley of rain,sweat, tears , and that perfume she loved 
to dab right where his lips were. She started to speak.
He put his hand over her mouth and held his finger to his lips.  Words were for later.
This was time for body language, in all it's soft familiar waking passion. Shivers and shudders shared in sudden 
relief. The years of togetherness danced as the fumbling tango played itself in shared rhythmic pulsation racing 
to held back 
let now last forever, then bursting like the waves at their feet. The tide ran away as they held the closeness 

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Without Interruption

"You really shouldn't park your white horses next to my Subaru."
"Rain? Rain? Are you listening?"
She picked her sleepy head off the teller's desk,
Her hair cascading over her cheeks.
"I was somewhere far away," she spoke from the bardo.
"I don't know. I don't know. And yet I know all I need to know."
"Move your horses. Take a lunch break. Get a grip,"
Said the lady who smelled like cake and wore pineapple earrings.

"Why do you eat so much cake in the morning?" 
Rain belted across the bank lobby.
"Can you even hear the rain outside, through all that icing inside?"

Her face flushed crimson between her dangling pineapples.
"Like I said," Rain continued, "I was far away, in a lost village,
Speaking to the descendants of my horses, Salient and Wonder.
"Can you hear me, pineapple lady? Can you hear this Rain?"

"Grab your horses and get out of here," the lady who adored cake shouted.
Rain lifted herself off her seat like a rising moon, and glided over the marble floor
Like the angel ghost of finance, mesmerized and mesmerizing.
Passing by she whispered to the tiny pineapple that clung the the fleshy ear, 
"I was never in here. I am quite far from here."

With that Rain went outside 
and walked her horses to the
meadow behind the parking lot
to reconvene with lost villages
Without interruption.

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                                         IT IS A GOOD DAY MY FRIEND

No more regrets for time gone by,
You do what you can,
And then with a sigh,
You let it go.
What might have been
Could I begin again,
Should have
Would have
Could have
Is not a good place to dwell,
A cold dark miserable prison cell.
If only I'd done this
Instead of that,
Will drag you into the fires of hell.

All around miracles abound
In a universe without end.
The rain comes down,
The sun comes out,
It is a good day my friend.

No more fear for time to come,
From what tomorrow holds
I simply cannot run.
It's truly so.
No sense to fret
Over what's not yet.
Should be
Could be
Would be
How can I embrace today
Worrying about what's on its way?
What if this
Or what if that
Turn's life's colors into a dull gray.

All around miracles abound
In a universe without end.
The rain comes down,
The sun comes out,
It is a good day my friend.

Wounded Healer
Submitted 8/23/09
Written 10/11/08

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Life's Contest

Life's Contest

A cold rain fell thrown by the wind,
A massive thrust of javalins,
That seemed to pierce each flake of skin...
As I was standing there.

What had I done? Where had I been?
Soaked to the bone from end to end...
No memory of foe or friend
As I was standing there.

The mass below my feet did grin,
Eyes fixed upon somewhere within
Beyond a place of waste and sin...
As I was standing there.

Unmoved the stare did watch me then,
In leaves and rain and blood, now thin
Half covered...light a diadem
As I was standing there.

Then lightening struck a nearby limb
It's sound a shallow requiem
For this lost soul to apprehend...
As I was standing there.

I heaved more leaves on top of him,
Concealing every trace of sin.
Now out of sight, I though again...
As I was standing there.

What had I done? Where had I been?
It's too late now to make amends
For life's contest I could not win...
As I was standing there.


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The Storm

The blackened mass is coming fast.
We've got no place to hide.
The window's blocked, the door is locked,
So we can't get inside.

Lightning lunges down to us
And Thunder pounds his drums.
Animals have fled the scene
Behold! The Storm has come!

He creeps above the wavy field
And blows his dire wind.
His mindless freelance killing spree
Will surely soon begin.

He gives the orders to destroy
Whatever's in his way,
And Lightning with his Thunder son
Do nothing but obey.

Minions for a noble cause?
I highly disagree.
They only want to advocate
Their master's sole decree.

Lightning jumps the picket fence,
Exploding on a tree.
Then I can sense the burning smell,
What stinging potpourri!

Thunder cackles overhead
And spreads throughout the grain
Ricocheting off the hills,
Signaling the rain.

Then the rain fell from the sky
And flowed on down the steep.
It rolled into the waving grass
With nothing for it's keep.

Lightning flashes at us so,
And Thunder follows nigh.
The rain starts flooding on the street,
We're all about to die!

But wait!

I see a causeway in the clouds!
I think the wind is done!
"Our lives our spared!" so sings my heart!
Behold! The Storm is gone!

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The Falling: Part II

Thats all she needs.
She desperatly wants his strong, protective arms to wrap around her and sheild her from this cruel world, this world that has broken her.
She desperatly needs him to whisper to her the words that would set her free.
That everything will be ok, and that he won't ever leave,
Like the many times before, where she would lie in his arms for hours
just listening to him breath in and out. His steady heartbeat playing its beautiful composition in her ear. The most signifigant sound in her world. 
She drops to her knees, pulling her drentched hair from its roots,
Screaming at the heavens.
The heavens respond with a loud bellow,
shaking the earth beneath her.
She knows the truth.

Yet she refuses to accept it.

The pouring rain continues to fall.
She continues to break.

He does not exist.
Not anymore.
He never did.

She wanted it too much.
She wanted to feel love.
She wanted to feel human.
She wanted to feel the unconditional need to be with another person,
and have that feeling returned with equal amounts of passion.

Was it too much to ask for?
Is it too much to ask for?

She can not move.
The rain starts to freeze mid air,
violently pelting her exposed body, leaving red marks as proof.
She does not care.
She can not feel.

The heavens cry out to her, begging her to get up, 
To get help.
She refuses.
All she needs is him.
Who ever He is...
Where ever He is...
She will wait.
Wait for all of eternity if need be.
She will wait for the unconditional love.
For that unruly passion that burns in both of their souls.
She waits for the man who was designed to love her,
to need her the same way she needs him.
She waits for the man who cannot live without her warmth,
her touch. 

And with that,
She slowly, unwillingly pushes herself off the muddy pavement,
permitting herself one final glance at the angry sky,
catching a glimpse at her diamond among coal
Her only friend in the wake of night.
The moon.
"Save me, my angel...Save me."
she whispers towards the sky, allowing a tiny smile to dance across her pale, desolate face
Before returning back to her throne in her cold, abandon dungon, her in lonly, abandon castle.

Feeling a new emotion she's never felt before.


Hope shoots across her sky like a metor.
Shinning so bright, filling her with warmth that blinds her.
The heavens cry out,
He will find her one day.
And she will be waiting. 

[.Because Falling in love, Is giving someone the power to break you.]

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Love Blinded Him

Tears roll down a young mans cheek
As darkness rolls in overhead 
The pain is reflected outside his window
As rain rolls down the glass
His hands shake as tears mix with rage
As anger takes hold he holds no regrets

Vengeance Blinds Him

Rain falls on a young mans head 
As he walks methodically, 
On a mission, determined to get even
As rain rolls off his hat
His fists clench as rage mixes with hate
As the target comes into sight he never thinks twice

Pride Blinds Him

Fists fly from a young mans body
As he connects with his target time and again
Fatigue sets in
As rain still falls
His knuckles throb as blood and rain mix
Knowing his victim hurt her he holds no regret

LOVE blinded him

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The Falling: part I


Loud noise.

but it was not just noise, no, not to her.
It was the wild cries from the heavens, calling out to her, reassuring her that everything will be ok, that there is somebody out there who understands, who is just like her.
She emerges from her throne, in her cold, abandon dungon, in her lonly, abandon castle where she is kept prisoner. Kept prisoner from her dreams, her temptations, herself.


The scent stunns her.
Memories from her former life proceed to play like a movie in her memory...
a movie that she can not pause, can not forget.
She stumbles, -afraid to move for the thought that this magical moment may dissapear if she becomes too hasty- to her only escape.
Destroying the barriers that stand in her path.

Ice cold.
The tiny rain drops fall from the sky,
releasing her temporarily from her own personal hell.
From judgment.
From criticism.
From the abandonment that overpowers her.

Lifting her pale, desolate face to the sky
she lets the rain wash away...
Wash away the hate
Wash away the pain
Wash away the lonliness
Wash away the end.

She cries.
No one would notice, the rain unselfishly disguises her pain so any on lookers would assume that the moisture is just from the malicious storm.
The wind.
So rude, so loud, whips past her.
Attempting to knock the fragile being to the ground.
But she is strong, stronger than she thinks.
She is not phased by it's attempt.
Mother nature is kind.
The heavens cry out again,
begging the young girl to remember, to be happy.
But she cannot.
She can't breath.
She can't think.
Her heart stopped beating a long time ago.
Stopped dead in her lonly, broken chest,
and the heavens cannot understand why

No one can.
But no ones ever tried.
Suddenly, the vicious winds attack her once more,
this time getting a reaction.
A violent tremmor shakes her body
raising goosebumbps on her skin.
She barely notices.
Her imagination runs free, 
unleashing all her memories, all her former happiness.
They all consist of Him.....

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City rain 
Has a sound of its own 
Not loud, not soft 
Yet you 
Can sense it 
Even when the windows are closed 
A quick pitter patter 
Bouncing from the sidewalks 
The streets. 

When it rains 
A lethargic grayness 
Hovers overhead 
People rush for cover 
Anxious not to get wet 
A thousand accents 
Pierce the skies 
Umbrellas! One dollar! 
One dollar! Umbrellas! 
At night 
The City 
Crawls to a standstill 
Empty reflections 
At every traffic light. 

The young walk in the rain 
Fist clenched 
In deep pockets 
The brave accept 
What falls from heaven 
And the old 
Patiently watch 
The rain 
Wash away 
The sins of the City. 

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It's so mild in the quite suburbs
with rain falling in October,
and unable to sleep, I face 
insomnia for certain;
rain, keep on falling and let me hear
that steady, pelting sound on
the closed windows....a melody for
the saddest song should be written.

I must choose the right mood,
a minor scale to match this melancholy,
and a slow tempo growing into a crescendo,
and I could even throw in a scherzo;
and transport it with a C Major to smooth
some sadness out of the melody,
which tomorrow somebody
will hum, or whistle by learning the easy tune.

Hoping this song will be a hit,
thanks to the falling rain 
in October for the sudden inspiration...
when I couldn't think of anything else!
Wishing the rain would stop at six,
so I could see the rising sun across
the eastern sky and listen to the lark
that built his nest under my windowsill.

It's past sunrise, and the shimmering clouds hesitate to leave,
and with nothing to look forward to... I must believe
that the rain falling in October, 
can teach me the game of solitaire;
and pinned against my warm pillow,
I don't have anything to share but sorrow!
Flap your wide wings, friendly lark and repeat my song,
note by note; and without a lead sheet, I can't play it for very long...

Copyright by Andrew Crisci

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Was It An Act of God?

Catastrophes,natural disasters and torrential rains
what causes these thing to happen, on whom do you place the blame?
mankind has misused and abused this planet on which we live
Mother Nature must make adjustments, the forces of nature then give
we have built too many buildings, taken over too much land
an earthquake may be a realignment to the acts and plans of man

aerosol cans, rain forest diminishing, the erosion of the soil and ground
when the rain eventually falls the lack of trees causes the mud to slide down
God gave us some power, many have called it free-will
mankind can use it for good or he can use it for ill-will
yet when many lives are lost and so many souls depart
why does anyone think to ask, was it an act of God?

air pollution, water pollution, the whole industrial age
has ravaged our planet and brought about Mother Nature's rage
we act before we think, we destroyed things that can't be replaced
maybe Mother Nature is trying to tell us to do an about face
tsunamis, monsoons and all types of major tidal waves
may be a wake-up call to how we have behaved

we need to come together and start making some major plans
stop raping our natural resources and start preserving God's land
so if anyone ever asks you, was it an act of God the Lord Christ?
just ask them for this planet, what has mankind sacrificed?
we are selfish in our deeds, self-absorbed in our needs
eventually we must bear the blame and we all will pay the price
just don't be so quick to place the burden of guilt on God the Lord Christ

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The rain keeps falling

Rain falls down puts out the fire in my heart. 
The cold wind blows ripping the rest apart.
Scattered are the pieces all across the ground.
The rain keeps falling, everywhere around.

The skies are gray and I cannot see the sun.
I remember sunny days when I come undone.
The rain keeps falling, washing all away.
I try to see the future, rain gets in my way.

A fog starts to rise as the snow does melt.
My mind goes numb, I know not what I felt.
I try to drop some cards I hold within my hand.
The rain clouds my thoughts I can’t understand.

I have to go inside seek shelter from the storm.
My body’s soaking wet I need to get it warm.
I wonder if the rain is ever going to stop.
Angels keep on crying, thousands of teardrops.

I rekindle the fire it never went completely out.
I slip within the shadows surrounded by my doubt.
As the fire starts to build I feel some warmth inside
I try to understand all those tears that are cried.

I just close my eyes envisioning the sun
I hope tomorrow shall deliver me some.
The rain keeps falling easing me to sleep
I think of the angels and for whom they weep.

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The Dust of God's Feet (Part II)

               The waters flow.  The land drinks.  The pools are filled with the small 
rain and the great rain of His strength upon the just and unjust.  The earth brings 
forth herbs meet for those who dressed it; receiving blessings from God with 
fruitful seasons, our hearts are filled with food and gladness.  This is His 
witness.  As He cuts a channel for the torrents and a path for the thunderstorm, 
His doctrine drops as rain upon mown grass and upon the mountains that grass 
may grow.  His speech distils as dew into streams with goodness from the 
morning cloud, and he even covers the bottom of the sea until the thick cloud is 
wearied.  The bright cloud is scattered, wherein the lord ascends.  Fair weather 
comes out of the north in golden splendor, as the tender grass springs out of the 
earth by the bright shining after rain; on the good and evil His sun does shine.  
So shall God come in awesome majesty with power and great glory will be 
appear.  His strength is in the clouds.  Heaven is His throne and earth is his 
Footstool.  He will walk upon the wings of the wind in his faithfulness that 
reaches as high as the clouds, and his favor is as a cloud of the latter rain to 
provide food abundantly, the corn of Heaven, as did the former.  And as many of 
us who have partook of His bread shall be gathered into the harvest receiving a 
blessing from God, being caught up in the clouds evermore to be with Him to 
see Him as He is.

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Eye of the Storm

Eye of the Storm, It was there on a warm, muggy night. That of a dark but black cloud that linger across the sky to which I thought it was going be just another stormy night. There to which was a night the moon could be seen at a larger view. It was there on that night the moon was no where in sight. As I rode across the interstate it was almost as if you would have to dodge the lightning as it struck thousand times over. From cloud to ground it strikes of bright but that of half mile wide streaks in the night. I ride for miles in search of that storm of the night, hoping to bypass the lightning of the skies that strikes. With no rain fallen on the wind shield, I push that 80,000 in flight. Praying that I miss the storm of the night, for many miles had rolled off when I had crossed that Texas and Okalahoma line. When all a sudden it had started to fall, that of the rain begin to fall. The winds blow that to which was like a snow drift blow but that of rain drops instead of snow. It was there I held on tight as I had felt my gut say I was in for a ride. It was there I hit the eye of the storm as I was the only one in the storm. For many trucks had park but I dare the dark and it was there to which I had experienced the three tornadoes in the dark. That of the eye of the storm as I was lifted up by the storm. Oh yes, blowing me to the side as I gripped the wheel real tight. As I had felt it pick the 80 thousand twice I just knew this wasn’t my night. I just knew I was through for the night as I had thought I would be bottom side up in the eye. That to which was confirm was a sight of tornadoes to touch in form. That of the scariest time I had ever experienced in my life and time. That by which was the grace of God to which kept me safe by far because I thought for sure that I would be slam somewhere afar. But instead I punched through the other side, only to find more trucks parking on the side. And finding out that there were three tornadoes that had form as the lightning in the center wasn’t that of form but that of the eye of the storm. That of bright light in the middle of the storm as it was there I could not have seen because of the storm. But there to which I experienced the eye of the storm. And that of God’s grace as he had saved me from that of a fierce storm. But there was not only just another storm but the eye of the storm. That of tornadoes in form..