Violence Rain Poems | Violence Poems About Rain
These Violence Rain poems are examples of Violence poems about Rain. These are the best examples of Violence Rain poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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The sun was out this morning
But soon the R.A.I.N came and erased any ray of hope I had left
It committed theft
Of my virginity
Flooded and damaged my fertility
R.A.I.N. drops were falling on my head
My secret garden became a water bed
And growing within it
Was the clitoral swelling
That became a dwelling
For constant pain
And while Gene Kelly is singing in it
I’m crying from all the R.A.I.N.
I can’t stand these April showers
How can it bring May flowers?
But deflower me?
What have I done to deserve
Falling victim to the second nature
Of a worthless soul
I guess not realizing the devil could be so bold
When it was all said and done
All I could see was the RED blood between my thighs
That I unwillingly sacrificed
For the R.A.I.N. to stop
The ORANGE that represented my strength was slowly fading
The YELLOW became a brick road that I couldn’t ease on down
Because it was now blocked
I didn’t know how to get back to my sanity
I couldn’t see the GREEN in me that once represented my dreams
And like the BLUE in the oceans, skies and the heavens
I became distant
The INDIGO made me suddenly aware that
I could no longer trust anyone.
All my shame and sorrow
Was clad in VIOLET
Bright enough for the world to see
Feelings of hopelessness and insecurities
Were trapped inside the rainbow
The R.A.I.N. left behind
No lucky charms or pots of gold
I beg for the R.A.I.N. to stay away
But no matter how much I pray
It continues to pour on unsuspecting souls
Copyright © Latosha Mitchell | Year Posted 2014
Raining cats and dogs, we didn’t want to get wet through
We dashed to the bus stop, to shelter as you do
There we huddled under the shelter as a cosy retreat
But a storm was brewing right under our feet
A lady held her umbrella up to protect her head
It was dry under the shelter but still she went ahead
She was twirling it round and poked a man in the eye
He wasn’t going to let this selfish action pass him by
He asked her very nicely to put the umbrella down
She got VERY irate and started to shout and frown
Soon expletives were flying- we moved out of the way
She cursed in Italian, we could understand what she did say
Umbrellas started flying- it turned into quite a fight
They were whacking each other with all their might
Suddenly a huge wave broke from the sea shore
We jumped out of the way to avoid any more
But the fight it continued and spilled on to the street
The words that were flying I could never repeat!
It was such a spectacle, everyone was staring
The foul mouth woman retreated but continued swearing
All she needed to have done was put her umbrella down
Sadly in reality she became the talk of the town.
A true event which happened on 1st November
2nd November 2015
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
In the city late at night,
Just me, my music, and my gun.
A light drizzle through the haze,
Orange light posts shine along the street,
Illuminating millions of droplets in the halos.
Hard cruel and dangerous
But beautiful too.
I walk the city late at night,
Just me, my music, and my gun.
Copyright © Dean Marais | Year Posted 2015
Today the raindrops slashed at the window pane while the sky, sullen with the weight of gray,
hangs low enough to show us its frown.
On this day we all cry.
Tonight we fight to show our smiles.
False but necessary, in hopes that tomorrow we can enjoy the sun,
even if just for a moment again.
Fear not the rain that falls, but rather weep for the colors we lost.
Taken from us; effaced from our magnificent canvas, blanketed by eternal night.
tonight we pray,
tonight we fight.
Let us never forget the sun on our shoulders for we are all children at play.
Not for a God, but for ourselves.
And that we all live together, under the same sky,
from which the rain might fall.
In Honor, Paris
November 14, 2015
Copyright © Sam Jameson | Year Posted 2016
savages. arms muscular
and tatooed -
a radio, wine bottle and
and they've tried to wash them
to hide the hideous acts
of their past
and to predict
those they have yet to commit.
thieves. shadows clingining
from wall to door,
in the glass eyes of
recall to mind
a young man
a man just like yourself or
who blends into
the anymonity of
pimps. in suits with
bow ties and crooked smiles and
walking canes too,
trampling over hookers
bloody and bruised.
they assure me,
but i know better.
have seen all the
limps and scars
far gone minds
smoking in the backs of bars.
and she weeps on
us all and
i weep with her.
there's one less star in the sky.
Copyright © Daniel Day | Year Posted 2014