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Best Name Poems

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Premium Member Poem | Details | Name Poem | |

My Cat

I love my cat.

She has 4 legs 

and a tail 

and nice ears 

and a cute little nose.

She is gray with black stripes.

Her eyes are kinda green

kinda yellow.

I don't know what colour this is?

Her name is Bast.

This is the name of a very pretty cat goddess

who lives where the pyramids grew.

When my cat is happy she purrs.

So do I.

My cat is soft and warm.

My cat likes to eat food.

Right now I am feeding her special food for young cats.

She likes this better than the last stuff.

She eats all day long.

I do too.

If I become fat

or she becomes fat

I will cut down on our food.

My cat also likes to drink water.

So do I.

I got rid of her cat bowls.

Now she uses the same bowls I do.

I think this makes her feel extra special.

When my cat wants to play outside

she meows and scratches at the door.

This is how I know if she wants to play outside.

My cat poops in the neighbour's yard

so I don't have to clean her litter box too much.

I love my cat.

If I was a cat I would marry her.

We could have a honeymoon in the park.

I would dance around

and watch her climb trees.

At night my cat sleeps on top of me.

If she moves around too much

she wakes me up.

This makes me mad.

But she doesn't care.

She just looks at me.

And looks at me.

Then waits for me to fall back asleep

so she can sleep on top of me some more.

But I still love my cat.

Very much.

Even if she makes me mad sometimes.

But only now and then.

She creates far more happiness than anger.

I suppose this is how it is for some married couples?

Cats are great.

I wish more people had a cat like mine

because then everyone else would be happy just like me.

One great big happy world

filled with peaceful thoughts instead of so much pain and war.

I hope she lives a long time.

When she dies I will get another cat

because they are so nice.

And when I die 

I will meet all of my cats

up in heaven.

I love my cat.

And she loves me.

| Details | Name Poem | |

Person of Colour

Person of colour is coherently germane,
He is never insane.

Some things about this person of colour may seem strange,
He is simple and he is yet to engage.

This person of colour loves the critics,
It is from them, he ticks.

This person of colour is natural,
And so, he is not a trial.

This person of colour loves to exchange
Ideas beyond his range.

This person of colour loves keyboard,
Tis with this he comes on board.

This person of colour is a charcoal- a black beauty.
This person of colour is me.

Premium Member Poem | Details | Name Poem | |

Arikara Born

I like many others have lived in our dreams In this world where I lived amongst forests and streams Where the Great Plains stretched and our rivers flowed If you could see through my eyes, how my tribe glowed Born from my mother of Arikara descent My father a Sioux warrior, his stature, augment My growing up was no different than the others around For the learnings that grew from our ancestors surround Hunting and fishing, being told of the dangers in life Cultural indifferences, to fearing tribal strife But it's what my father taught me every single day To learn from our lands for through the years they'd display Tracking, seeking, searching, living from our lands Every year more learned, growing in understand From a boy to a man becoming a warrior through my years Protecting what was ours, allaying modern fears But the changes that we faced, suffocated our souls There was only ever one outcome, other man's goals I like many others, to live and eventually fall Born from Arikara, Sioux, my name was 'Standing Tall' .<*>. A little story from my heart, where the Indigenous will always be.

| Details | Name Poem | |

Love and Lust

I did not mean to snatch your heart
Like with the claw of a vorocious bird of pray
You fell into my unset trap 
Speared yourself upon my harpoon 
Which had only been hanging on the wall
You threw yourself into my way
stole my arrows and brandishing them with cupids blood
Punctured your heart without a thought 
Other than the whisper of my name 
You claim that I'm a siren
I've led you to your death
But it was the birds i sang to 
Your name did not leave my unforgiving lips 
With swollen eyes from crying
Filled with swirling colors of obsession 
You beg to me and plead with me 
Blaming me and cursing me  
Claiming that i drug you here
Forgetting it was you who snuck in through my balcony 
To watch me in the fountains 
And listen to my voice
To see how the animals follow me
And witness how the moon becomes my robes 
And the stars become my eyes
How the setting sun remains all night 
Within the silk of my hair 
how roses color my cheeks 
In the darkness of the cold 
And the world surrounds me 
And the beauty of the light i behold 
Where in this story did i bewitch you 
Where did i make you call my name 
Did i once respond or invite you to play a game
you claim i did this to you 
When you only did it to yourself 
did you enjoy your gaze upon the child of Cerynian
Did you think I'd become your obediant wife 
When did i claim i loved you 
How quickly you think of these blasphemous lies 
Your not in love you simpleminded mortal
Your infatuated and in lust and your lust is a lie

| Details | Name Poem | |

The Tale of Miss Jenny Prime

Let me tell you the story of Miss Jenny Prime,
who spent all of her days making everything rhyme.
It was thought she’d outgrow this strange childhood spell,
but her fetish just grew and made her parents’ life hell.

When Miss Prime was a baby, still sporting a bib,
each night she was cuddled, then placed in a crib
by her doting young parents, who thought it quite funny
to give her a pet name, “Sleep tight Hunny Bunny.”

And that was the start of poor Jenny’s plight,
forced to listen to vowel chimes night after night.
Before long she was making up rhymes for herself,
all her un-rhyming toys were just left on the shelf.

Even quenching her thirst could cause quite a stink,
no O.J for Jenny, her drink had to be pink.
They bought her some shoes, red, shiny and new,
“I’ve told you, I’m not wearing a shoe that’s not blue”

She demanded a dog so they went to the pound,
she picked the fattest one there, just to have a round hound.
Her bed had to be red, her jeans had to be green,
and a fish dish for dinner or she’d cause a right scene.

Stamping her feet she cried “I should be Jenna,
and for pocket money, I should be getting a tenner”
Each Friday brought tantrums, as she hardly had any,
reluctantly taking just a penny for Jenny.

Her increase in years simply brought more despair,
she bleached ebony locks for she needed fair hair.
The colours of clothes always caused her to cry,
so to get round the problem she learned to tie-dye.

Now I know it will come as some sort of surprise,
but Jenny had caught a young gentleman’s eyes.
He knew things would be tough, but he’d give it a try
so, with posies of roses, he dared to drop by.

The roses were great and he was kinda cute,
he’d even gone to the trouble of tie-dying his suit.
He was called Jack Kilkenny, his name did not rhyme,
so she told him to leave and stop wasting her time.

But Jack was his nickname, his real name was Lenny.
Alas, this information was not known to Jenny.
He was perfect for her, a match better than any,
for if they’d wed they’d be Lenny and Jenny Kilkenny.


Premium Member Poem | Details | Name Poem | |

Yes Friend, It Will Matter

Say not to me,
that it will not matter a hundred years from now,
that I was here.
For surely I have touched one life in a positive way,
perhaps in daily prayer
I've called your name one day.
Having no profound accomplishments or delusions of fame,
and leaving no progeny
to perpetuate my name,
still, it will matter that I was here.
For I have quietly endeavored to sow, and I have watered.
I love and am loved--should one desire more?
Life is good and hopefully God is pleased.
The tracks I'll leave, it's true,
will not be so ingrained as to stand harsh winds of time
and they shall fade as the evening sun,
leaving somewhere, only a name and date chiseled in granite.
Perhaps, if only in thought,
one pausing o'er me should question, who was this man?
Let God simply whisper, that I am His.

| Details | Name Poem | |

These ribbons I tie as you leave

Blue – 
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.

Red – 
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
evaporating 
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.


Orange – 
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
Iridium. 
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone. 

Green – 
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs 
like dandelion seeds blown from 
My wistful lips when I was 
eleven 
waiting for them to bring back my wish.

Black – 
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from 
your father’s funeral.  

It was the only time I watched you cry.

There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through 
their watery colored reflections.


Pink – 
for the way your skin repels from my 
Touch, quivers as though my finger- 
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.

Purple – 
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss. 

You left her waitng..always.

I have been special to you,
she replies to your
overtures.

Her letters 
Who blush
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.

White – 
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.

They spit 
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.

My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.

We will divide our booty

Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold 
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.

Grey- 
for the morning 
now knocking on my window.

I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
in
the tangle of these vacant sheets. 




| Details | Name Poem | |

Her Name Was Rain - Collaboration with Casarah Nance

Rain, if you were warm I would dance in you, 
I would be like the breeze and whip around you 
Rain, since you are cold I'll stay away from you 
Its such a bummer cause I want to play with you. 

Thoughts of running through the rain with you 
Makes my heart go insane for you 
I'll hold your hand and slow dance with you 
Alone in the grassy meadow just me and you 

What would I give to beat along with you 
Dripping on the tin shed of the roof with you 
Making sweet music on the wind chimes with you 
Wet and soft on a blanket in the fields with you 

Rain, I'd spend the entire night with you 
Enjoying the touch and feel of you 
No looking back when I'm with you 
Rain oh how I would love to dance in you 

Rain how intense is that storm the comes with you 
The thunder and lightening that stays with you 
Its okay because I still want to change with you 
Rain oh how I want to become one with you.

Premium Member Poem | Details | Name Poem | |

Houston we have a problem

"When returning love, becomes to Late"

Fantastic,
From her eyes
His name the name
She mumbles silently 
3 rivers, 3 years, 2 many tears
She loves him endlessly

Sending her soul
A free feeling, 
Finally, he fell
Engaging, equal to the spell
Morning, mountains and more
Move across a new age moon
His heart happily 
Traveling towards hers
Dashing dandy, onto her dinner plate 
Too long she waited, 
She's not hungry, her heart self healed 

3 rivers 3 years 2 late
Her tears faded his rusty name 

SKAT

Premium Member Poem | Details | Name Poem | |

Raven's Sign

Fog settles on the tombstones. In the dark, an eerie blue,
the graveyard is a misty ocean Raven passes through.

She stops. The solitary site is grim, devoid of any sound.
Her long black gown, a ruffled slip, is satin sweeping ground.

Sable locks lie smooth and straight  across her graceful back.
Stark contrast is her alabaster skin to hair pitch-black.

This woman - with a beauty that always captivates -
now stands, a pistol in her hand, and there steadfastly waits.

Told the man that she adores (who left some time ago)
lies buried here, the woman’s come, for Raven has to know!

She can’t believe that he could be here in this place of doom.
He’d left for war before they’d barely been a bride and groom.

Raven looks out on the sea of mist; her eyes have teared
because those birds that bear her name have suddenly appeared.

A sign it has to be, she thinks. The ravens drawing near
are circling above one stone. Her heart is seized with fear.

Raven walks to where the birds are circling above.
She pales. . . The stone she’s reading bears the name of her true love.

The fog, a sea engulfing all, has swallowed Raven too.
Gun raised, she drops down to his grave; she knows what she must do.

Andrea Dietrich

Inspired by the Contest "Among the Dead"
Sponsored by Constance ~ A Rambling Poet ~


Premium Member Poem | Details | Name Poem | |

Alana Dulcita

Once in a forest, a long time ago, there dwelt a young maiden, bright, sweet and fair. Flowers she wore in her long wavy hair, and each day she’d vanish into gloaming’s glow. Alana Dulcita was this young maid’s name, a name that fell sweetly from everyone’s tongue. The townspeople loved her -both old and young, yet nobody knew from where the girl came. They only knew that, at the end of each day, with sun dipping downward into the west and sky splashed with colors Alana liked best, was when, as if magically, she’d slip away! “Where does she go?” all the villagers asked, “And how does she leave us so quietly that not even one of us ever can see? Has some kind of spell on our dear girl been cast?” Spell or no spell, the young maid had powers as into the woodland she fled and then donned a gossamer gown, hidden well near a pond surrounded by beautiful flowers. She peered into water after she’d kneel as a lovely face gazed back at her. In this perfect moment, what should occur but, like magic, the girl became real! Her filmy silk gown would blend with her skin, shrinking into a stem, and her face changed into petals till soon not a trace remained of the form that a human lives in. Alana Dulcita, her real self again, breathing lilacs’ and lilies’ sweet scent, would bow her fair face, a flower content, to repose by the pond with her kin. Awaking at dawn, renewed, she’d return to the town where they loved her so well, keeping the secret she never could tell of youth’s beauty for which humans yearn. She’d never grow old as long as she had a place of seclusion where she might go to water around which bright flowers could grow, for this is what kept the soul of hers glad! Never to marry and never to stay too long in one place, she’d always move on. Beloved she would be till the day she was gone. This, for Alana, was the only way. Alana Dulcita, where did she go when forests grew small and lake beds grew dry? Did the fair maid eventually die or is she still sleeping where bright blossoms grow?
Note: The name Alana means "the bright fair one" in Gaelic or "precious; awakening" in Hawaiian & "Beautiful dear child" in Irish/ the name Dulcita is Latin for "sweet." Written by Andrea Dietrich & Inspired by the "Reflections" Contest Sponsored by Constance La France ~A Rambling Poet~

| Details | Name Poem | |

Rivers of intense reverberations

Wind Wind whistle,Blow his name up in the sky,where it belongs.
Blow his name amongst the Stars,where radiant angels play their
golden harps and Faries play their horns.
Clouds,Clouds,be his cushioned pilows,the place where he can rest.
Moon,Moon shine his darkened night,and be his rocking cradle nest.
Crickety Crickets play  in clattering melodies,as raindrops fall in
tick tick waltz on the dancing trees in wafting breeze.
Handsome red chested cardinal,open your wing of passion to your
silky whitye pure dove,as the wind blows her to your shelter,
Sing for her the song of love.
Wind Wind,whirl again and blow his name up in the sky,above all 
Greek gods,above highest of the high,where she holds him,
till all crushing waves,wild tides and oceans die.

| Details | Name Poem | |

My good name

if my good name means keeping face with those who are not so good 
strip my flesh of my good name and let me be not misunderstood 

if my good name means putting on a facade to indulge the higher ups 
then lower me below the lowest and empty my deceitful cup 

if my good name means being nice to appease your sensibilities 
then strip me of my good name and arm me with accountability 

if my good name means betrayal to soul, self and spirit 
then silence my good name because i don't want to hear it 

if my good name means i have to tell myself a lie 
then to hell with my good name i'd rather tell the truth and die!!!!!!

| Details | Name Poem | |

What's in a Name .

Mom.. I think I might be homosexual..
CALM~DOWN !.. I just said THINK !..
It's not I fear
My multi~studded ear ,
Or that I look stunning dressed in pink .
I wont complain ,
As I sip champagne
Of my blemish~free youthful looks ,
Or how I enjoy the finer things in life ;
Like fine art , or poetry books .
 NO !.. I never joined the Girl~Guides .
 You're being silly...patronizingly .
I dont like damp
But I do love camp....
'Specially in Summer , by the sea .
I like being with Brad and Christopher ;
Young Lloyd is such a dear
And Mourice is such  a sweet lad ;
Yes.. I'll always keep them near .
But , deep inside my inner soul
When push will come to shove .
For my own part ,
Who has my heart ,
Yes !.. It's Annie I really love .
But one thing that still bothers me ,
And will , until my dying day ....
Is , when on that morn....
Yes!.. When I was born..
WHY ! !.. Did you name me  GAY ??...

| Details | Name Poem | |

Beautiful --Named For Celene Cresent--Thank You For The Name(:

[They] brush over closed lids 
                       of tear filled eyes, 
                                  if only known why, 

why they so sorrowfully cry, 
              but future tense gives none 
                            of secrets way to be held, 

and so the dreams fall to cries 
                  and the dreams of futures, 
                                                   barely tell...

| Details | Name Poem | |

Handling Reality

Reliving painful moments every single day
Envying other's fortune
Always wanting the love of another
Loving people who will never care
Inviting things into your life that you can't handle
Trying to forgive while dealing with more pain
Yearning for the perfect life that no one will ever have

| Details | Name Poem | |

the visitors

knock knock knock
on my front door
i get up to look
it's lonliness at the door

but quite and still
i would not let
lonliness in so peacefull i slept

morning came
and with the knocks once more
but i kept my temper
and evened the score

inside i sat quietly
wishing he'd go away
but he yelled from outside
he had something to say

i said "go away"
and i put a record on
something moving and grooving
i played it all day long

but when evening came 
i put on a sweater
and decided to play 
something much better

something smooth
something sentimental
something with lyrics
that are very gentile

something with words
that don't dare remind
of terrible incidences
recently left behind

constantly reminding me
it should be a crime! 
it should be a crime!!
it should be a crime!!!

anger was present
he had a key
i was glad to see him 
and he was glad to see me

but lonliness
though being out side
made his presence known
in certian shadows
in certian rooms

anger said
"have a drink" 
and handed me a bottle
"listen up. i know how to fix that flirt. 
slap her in the face.
rub her name in the dirt!"

and with this 
my imagination ran wild
drink after drink 
we talked a while

but i remembered myself
this wasn't my style

and once again lonliness 
knocked at the door
i let him in and fell
crying to the floor

why, oh why must you visit
once more?!

he said "to try to give you wisdom
where you broke down before.
to try to give you knowledge 
before you go through the door. 
to try to make you stronger,
if you should do it again.
and to always let you know 
that i am your constant friend. 
i am with you in your solitude
i am with you while you sit 
surrounded by friends.
i scream my name LONLINESS!
in your ears very loud.
never forget my power 
or giving me my hours."

and with that 
he sat his fat ass down

| Details | Name Poem | |

My Angel Got Her Wings

my angel got her wings
one day
and just like that
she flew away
way up in the sky 
toward God
seeing the invisible
and praising the Lord
some may ask me
how i feel
because i lost something
really real
my mind will wonder where to go
without her it just doesn't know
my eye's will miss her
they already do
and my ears that listened
they miss her too
and the chair next to me
will be empty for a while
and my words"I Love You"
won't make a sound
pictures will remind me 
of your smile
i did get to love you
for a little while
but deep in my heart
that's where you'll stay
forever you'll be
forever and a day

Premium Member Poem | Details | Name Poem | |

the day you flew to Heaven


           We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time 
              hearing the news before most of the World did
           He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
           He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected 

           He had loves and passions from many places 
           deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
            Not only did he love music and inspire all 
            He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul

              The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened 
             It was John Denver's plane that went down
             Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial 
             So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
              always in loving memory 
               OH babe ,  do we hate you go ~    
                            
    

         Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
                   "Leaving on a Jet Plane "
             

Premium Member Poem | Details | Name Poem | |

Don't leave me hanging

 Don't leave me hanging sis!


I came out of nowhere with an agenda on the mind
Joining the soup to be near my favorite love
a game I did not plan to play
Until he called upon the first round.
giving it my best shot
Then came round three and more. 
The poets here I started to explore
Not taking my poetry seriously
The writing just happens naturally
now I see why she visits everyone at the soup.
My sister who puts on a show with words
Is adored by her very own group
the Destroyer was my pet name 
She gave me when I was young
So envious of her, I broke the head of her only dolls.
using her poetry was the way she tortured me 
Inside me, she bestowed a poet of mischief
Now I like to tease everyone mind with words


I hate this poem..... Lol..don't read it... It was a joking way back then


(((for contest**Leave me hanging)))

| Details | Name Poem | |

No Chain, No Charm

In Unison-
~No Chain, No Charm~

United we own
Firm, full of finest goodies-
Our ground of freedom.


United we stand
Firm from failure and horror-
On the ground of strength.

United we pray
Faithfully with open mind-
Our bliss is assured.


| Details | Name Poem | |

Ever Turning Circle

In winter’s white, as angels cry
for early spring to warm the wind,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned.

For early spring to warm the wind,
at Valentine’s romantic calls,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls.

At Valentine’s romantic calls,
rebirth of nature’s light divine,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls,
and blossoms pastel shades recline.

Rebirth of nature’s light divine,
when day equals the hours of night,
and blossoms pastel shades recline,
to hail the queen of May in light.

When day equals the hours of night,
a summer’s sun will come to play,
to hail the queen of May in light,
we chant and sing along the way.

A summer’s sun will come to play,
so life can grow as gods decreed,
we chant and sing along the way,
with warmth and light our hunger feed.

So life can grow as gods decreed,
the rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
with warmth and light our hunger feed,
the wealth of harvest is our own.

The rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
in autumn breeze that chills the heat,
the wealth of harvest is our own,
as gold and red belies our feet.

In autumn breeze that chills the heat,
a year that ends with blessed Samhain,
as gold and red belies our feet,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign.

A year that ends with blessed Samhain,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign,
in winter’s white, as angels cry.

Premium Member Poem | Details | Name Poem | |

My Name

I’ve always loved the name Mom gave to me -
a name she’d heard and wanted to bestow
on her first girl; she got it from a show
on radio. She thought it was so pretty!

While not a name for girls in Italy,
my name has got a version masculine.
From Greece comes “Andrew,” meant for manly men!
The female version, though, means “womanly.”

In Spain, one girl in fourteen has my name.
However, in the USA, the year
that I was born, you’d hardly ever hear
this name which now enjoys a greater fame.

And since my name was not too common when
I came into this world, it helped me grow
to treasure things unique and lovely, so
perhaps for that, I use a poet’s pen!

I also found, in numerology,
the letters of my first name add up to
a thoughtful Seven’s destiny so true  -
inventiveness and eccentricity!

I’m glad the name of "Andrea" is mine.
My middle name is even rarer still.
Its likeness to my first name I’ll not reveal,
but all my names together brightly shine!


For Linda-Marie's Contest:
What's In a Name?

| Details | Name Poem | |

Love is writing her name in the air with sparklers

Love is writing her name in the air with SPARKLERS!



I need a new heart!
Like the one I had when I was 5,
when I wrote her name in the air.
When the deep red held us up,
and I thought Birds touched Bees Beneath the lilies
Softly, 
because that is how I touched my Grandmother and the cheeks of Horses.


I need one,
that will not grow up.
One that will hunt for carnivals in August.
One that keeps filling. 
One that carries salt and a pairing knife through the garden when it’s hungry.
One that still sleeps on the bellies of yellow dogs.

I need one, 
most importantly, 
that still falls in love.
Love, 
LOVE I SAY!
Love that is simple
and feels like birds must.
When they warble a deep red and
carve the air.
Lifting bees,
Softly.
Like sparklers into the sky. 


If you think you have such a heart I will to pay!!!
I have a savings of over $15,000 and I am willing to have wages garnished.

*an installment plan with interest negotiable.


In the exchange of hearts you will receive mine for as long as is needed or until a 
preferred heart is available.
It is a sort of sad thing this heart. 
Slowly folding over onto itself, collapsing inwards like a shipwreck. 
However, its meter is quite steady and will be an adequate replacement until another, 
more suitable heart is found.


* Serious Inquiries Only!!!!

Premium Member Poem | Details | Name Poem | |

Her Name Was Rain

 .                                                        (                  )
                                                        (                     )
                        (          )                    (       /   /    /   )
                     (              )
                         / / /                              /  /       /    /
                         /    /                               /  /   /

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

/  /        Tho', ...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 the sun comes after the rain                         
                 /      Where the drought is over at last                       
/                       Where rain becomes rainbows                                   
                        She is the leaf.....maurader of the breeze                   
          /     /       Her name is Rain     

                                                    ____                                              
                                             
For Constance La France's contest "Rain, The Story"
By Carrie Richards