Poetry Rain Poems

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

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Details | Rhyme |
The steadily falling cold August rains
Continue to pour upon Cheshires lanes;
Over flattening fields of soddened wheat,
Soaking the grass, splashing the feet.

Stands the Combine in the shed;
The unripened apples hanging rosy red.
Stands the caped heron all alone -
His glinting eye as cold as stone.

And in amongst the many puddles
We step around like our troubles:
So lurch ahead with our retreat
Like drunken fools in the street.

And through this months darkly frowns
The cleansing downpours wash the towns;
Scrubs the spire from ingrained time -
Absolves the guilt from the crime!

Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2014




Details | Light Poetry |
Two statues of stone
On pedestals in the park
One male
One female
White objects of a perfections beauty
Yet they stood erect and alone
When the rain fell
This was their tears
The stared at each other with longing
The trees grew tall
Season by season the flowers bloomed
Two statues standing erect in the prison of life's hold

A poet walked in the park
Glancing at lovers, kisses at dusk
He stared at the statues above his head
He knew, with dread, the loneliness of stone maidens
He waited for the park to become enclosed in the twilight
With toil and sweat he did succeed on his lark
Pushing the statues close rather than apart
As one statue danced and the other one sang
They kissed the sweetness of night and felt the tears of joy
All because a poet
Wished them a lovers embrace
He knew them like they were his children
For here he was as well
A statue
In love

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
It was raining and all were feeling blue. Writer’s block wasn’t helping…
What was I to do? Suddenly… in popped the Possum of Possibilities!
Then a most peculiar thing, my mind had lots of ideas. Boy it did sing!
How did he do it? Do I really care? I wanted the fun, he makes everywhere.

He quickly grabbed our sleepy Dragon, who’d been spread out upon the couch.
And they soared above the rain clouds, grabbing rays of sunshine from above.
Well, do tell! Naturally, it was still raining, so he had hid them in his pouch.
Then he found Dragon’s selfie stick, when he got back, into our little house.

He then attached a ray of sunshine, where the camera would normally, be put.
Then, to protect it from the rain, to keep the little ray of sunshine, dry all day.
He put it under an umbrella, and for all in the house, did the exact same thing.
Now, we’ll all have fun, playing in the rain, as our little rays… light the way.

No more, Dragon flying around, trying to… fan those dark, rain clouds away.
He’s using that ray of sunshine, to get his summer tan, while adding his own…
Fire glow detailing to his scales. Looks rather smart. Don’t you think? Do tell!
Dragon is now splashing in the water puddles, and singing ‘Twist and Shout’!

His penguins are following, along behind, and dancing to 'Singing in The Rain'. 
Indeed, we can’t seem to get the umbrellas and selfie sticks… from their…
little penguin flipper, hand thingies. Oh well! If you can't beat them, join them! 
As ALL the town has done! Dragon’s the new Pied Piper of puddle jumping… 

Newly found… Goes to show that. You can’t keep a good town down! Indeed!
We’ll be doing ‘Singing in the Rain’soon, instead of ‘Shakespeare in the Park’.
Grandpa Troll has now mastered the art of jumping into one water puddle…
And coming out another… later on… somewhere along… down the road!

His new lessons on how to do this… Have now begun… So TAKE THAT!
Mister Rain Cloud!  Remember! You were the one to enter… Mayhem Falls!
Where even you can brighten the day, and where, even Mayhem can be fun… 
Now, if only, I could get you to behave, and leave that Little ray of sunshine… 

On MY selfie stick, ALONE! …What? He’s flirting? With me? Do tell!!!
Well, if he learns to smile a bit… He’ll be welcome to hang around!
After all… The Possum of Possibilities says he has more fun to bring!
If you come along… 

Written 7-22-2015

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2015




Details | Prose Poetry |

Wind so cold.
Blowing.
Fondles my face.
Tickling.
The tears from heaven.
Pouring. 
Tapping. 
Dancing.
Unrelenting.
I wonder if i wish
    to stop them
From numbness,
    to waking,
          then sensing.

The little voice in me says,
Wait, don't go.
Stay a little longer. I plead.
Sing for me today, rain.
With the gliding rhythm on my piano,
                                                  I'll play.
Chilly Wind, caress my bare skin 
     with the pure coldness that you bring.
Unusual,
     like it's my first time in the snow.
Somehow, 
     the fire tree never fades in the picture.
The yellow sunkissed leaves, too.
What is it about Summer and Fall
    that I can't forget?
Memories. Sweet imaginations.

The chilly rain. The misty wind.
You are here. 
Freeze me with the sharp coldness you give.
Calm me. Maybe, comfort me.
And, if you leave
Will you visit me when summertime comes?
Before it gets too late
   And again I fold.


Copyright © Wendy Meyer | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
"As I watch the blue skies
 Suddenly turned into gray
 Darkness easily surrounds 
 Their clouds, covered in haze.

 The rain will fall again, I say
 A nature's moment I dismay
 Raindrops will soon touch the ground
 The sad feeling, again I'll be hound.

 Splattering rain, the sound that haunts
 Sweet and sad memories of the man
 Taunting me to remember once again
 The love once lost, never be back again

 Every drop of rain that falls, I pain
 Each drop it falls, my heart is in vain
 "Try to listen" to the rain, he once said
 'Tis like a last goodbye, could not hear I said. 

 The sound of the crying heart, I still hear
 The sound of a weeping soul, I can hear
 The silent tears that they weep,
 The silent scream that echos so deep.

 Listen to every drop of rain
 To it's agony, vain, pain, 
 Listen to the rain as it falls, maybe
 There is your love, every drop after all...xoxo

Copyright © Anna Lo | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
Like any family, mine’s the same, they leave Mama with the dirty Chores.
You’d think with Trolls, and Dragons, and such… There’d be magic galore!
But I concede defeat at Pooper Scooping Time, my sons taught everyone well.
You’d think just once, they wouldn’t run away, with such a humongous bombshell.

The Witch next door is out of town; she usually uses it to fertilize her yard.
Her magic does it in a minute flat, but she’s not here, as my yard becomes marred.
She flew on vacation with the first snowfall; in spring she’ll help my backyard.
In the meantime it’s just little old me… It’s like cleaning out a yucky stockyard.

So I gave a shovel to a grouchy old Dragon, since he’s so big and does so much.
But I came back fricasseed and charbroiled, my shovel totally melted, as such.
I put on my fire retardant suit, and I gave him a special spot where he can unload.
Apparently he didn’t like that either, as I dug out from under a humongous load.

Finally, raking it all up, I ask the dragon, to make cinders of the yucky stuff.
Instead he laughed as he huffed and puffed, blowing smoke at me, in a huff.
I smelled kinda bad as I went to the house, getting a cart to fill to the brim.
I’ll admit, getting mad at a dragon was never a good idea, to originally begin.

But I was pissed, as it looked like rain, and my mind was beginning to spin.
I filled the cart to overflowing, then tied it to the sleeping dragon’s… butt end.
When he woke up, he flew half way up to the moon, spreading it on the wind.
Unfortunately it was me, my yard, and my house, that finally got it again.

Who knows where that darned old cart now lies, as he came flying back alone.
I had learned my lesson that it would never be wise to lose my temper again.
So as the rain began to wash my folly away, I looked up and kissed the rain.
Sometimes it’s prudent, to just relax, and get in touch with the elements again.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

Wrestling Verses


Spilling ink onto paper,
reading tea-leaves,

fragments of mirth,
shards of anguish,

remain,
trapped in rolled-up sleeves.


Turning up my collar,
as blue as these days that slip by,

scattered verses plunge into,
the fathoms of unknown waters.


My ink runs, slips, treading lightly,
penning odes to love on bare skin,

your skin,
your bare back my canvas,

my fingers tracing, caressing, scribbling,
homages to our laughter, our tears.


Wrestling verses,

lie spent, exhausted,
famished and parched from saying too much,

still,

my fingers tickle your soft skin,

my ink would run dry,

were it not for your gentle touch

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |

When black clouds cover the sky
and cold winds blow strongly
There will be rain soon
Nobody goes out of home…

Rains fall on the trees, on houses
and on the green fields of crops
Rains make the lands fertile and 
bring sweet drinking water for us……

A cloudy day makes me nostalgic
A rainy day let me write a poem of
childhood memories (of few decades old)……

I hear the songs of rain in my mind
I get the smell of a wild flower
in a rain forest……..

Copyright © Mohammad Abedin | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |


With droplets flip-flapping outside, The gush of rainfall begins to chime Unto the soft fragrance of moistened night... And I tiptoe on naked earth Savoring this minty nectar, While a cadence from drizzles invites My adult- being for a water-dance, a trance Quite delightful in the cascade of sleet-- Till sunshine appears gliding rowing Like a dip from heaven's colored pour! Re-posted 2/22/2018 Sunshine and Showers Contest of Robert Haigh

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |
Amidst of November… But rain starts to fall everywhere The wind blows so tender And it really makes me feel shiver Birds are flying here and there Having no place to hide from the rain And while I ‘am sitting near the windowpane As I watch the drizzle and feels so vain Thinking, how I love to see the sweet November rain…

Copyright © Jenny Rollan | Year Posted 2011

Details | Light Poetry |
When you realize it, nothing is funny. Not every day in the business world is sunny. Stormy weather comes when the barometer falls. There can be gale force winds to knock down walls. For days like this, stash some cash away. Have money available for a rainy day. Inspired by another member's poem

Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
I Watched A Man, Named, ‘ Rain ‘
Pounding Across The Plains
Running with Cascading Joy
Like a Wet, Happy, Little Boy …

I Found A Man, Named, ‘ Fire ‘
Blaze in Life, A Lightning Desire
His Bold Passion – Consuming Power
Sent Smoke Signals, to My Tower

I Observed A Man, Named, ‘ Ice ‘
Tho’ Frost-Natured, He Did Entice
‘ … Come Hold Me, if You Dare …
And Find Out, if Cold-Can-Care …’

… I Beheld A Man, Named, ‘ Breeze ‘
And Begged Him, ‘Touch Me Please …
Gentle, like a Lover’s Kiss
Whisper to Me, Things I Wished…’

… and Sitting Content, on This Hillside
Listen Now… as I Confide …
‘ Rain and Fire … Ice and Breeze ’
Don’t You Know … You Are All Of These . . .

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry |
The rain pours down on the city. 
A sense of putrid disgust fills the air, 
as trash litters the streets 
and grime grows in every back alley. 

The clouds cast their shadows 
and the lack of saturation sucks the life out of everything 
and everyone. 

The rain adds depth to the highlights and shadows of the world,
making the spray-painted brick walls and cigarette-ridden cracked roads look surreal. 
The rain cleanses the earth of it‘s filth.

It‘s the emptiness that makes me feel, 
the destroyers of my body.
For all the years of coffees, cigarettes,
opiates and alcohol have numbed me.
My insides feel sick, my organs venal.

My body is being held together by a rope of chains,
and the chains are rusting against my skin.

I often find myself in bed with an old fling or an attractive stranger.
Another night of vigorous intercourse, 
makes no difference to me. 
They take more pleasure in it than I do,
for even at the end of the night,
I am still
and truly alone in my mind.

Copyright © Todd Dawson-Cooper | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quintain (English) |
                             I
The winds were loudly whistling,
Blowing the trees’ leaves all around;
God sneezed and misty rain fell to the ground;
In an instant, blades of green grass began to glisten.
 
                           II

The lightening choreographed its self
Throughout the air;
In the far distance, the loud thunder
Was heard clashing;
The heavily burdened clouds had taken in
All they could bare…
Suddenly, giant balls of pelting hail began
Their icy trashing…

                         III
Curious about the rain caused strife,
   The sun peeped to investigate;
Unaware—the Devil was beating his wife,
   The sun’s concern was a bit too late.

                        IV
It’s known, rain is no friend to the desert’s growth;
And that floods care less where they might spread.
   Such strange fellows are the both;
   Happily sharing the same old bed…

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
Dreamy Rainy Morning

Indian Summer heat broke and now,
Rain on morning windows streams down;
Coffee seems to taste better this day,
Cool and cozy, a day to play,

A warm robe around the shoulders curls;
Morning music playing low,
As raindrops on the windows roll,
A day to exhale, take it slow.

Nature will loosen fall leaves from trees,
Diehards like jewels with colors shine,
And I, I cuddle in my easy chair,
To enjoy meanderings of my mind.




Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
POETIC INERTIA
As dreary working days stagger endlessly on I’d like to run and reach the friendly Friday At a speed only the flying time can reckon For to waiting weekend it paves the pathway. In the terminal two days of the week I get Unshared time of my own to be with me I sit by the window, see the sun rise and set Write poems however crude these may be. In routine cycle time takes the week to its end The poetic inertia carries my mind to the muse So much it wants the Sunday span to extend Rendezvous with me doesn’t end while a recluse. So if on mundane Monday morning rains pour Within closed doors by the open window I’d stay Let poems take rains’ silent rhythm to my core I’d wish days are drowned, Friday comes next day.
February 20. 2018

Copyright © Subimal Sinha-Roy | Year Posted 2018

Details | Alliteration |
A cloudy, gloomy, cool, rainy morning
Fresh, transparent, and sparkling,
Muddy dreams pouring and droplets springing
And all my things left in an open to get dry
Love, trust, life, joy and here is none to supply
I place not a blame
They art wet all the same
Found it interesting as a computer game
To see these teardrops of shame
Sorrow shared is half the sorrow
But I have the audacity to see tomorrow
Rain has seasons
And also reasons
To bind boundless
For with time it will be cloudless
To strengthen strongly
When the atmosphere is misty
And words exchanged wrongly

Copyright © Masereka Amos | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
                      It's Raining.
Come on my beautiful lady its spring showers 
let us fly with the rain knowing how much you 
love the raining season,living next to the ocean,
my promenade on the sand hand in hand with 
the rain always allows me to regain my strength,
it gives me the power to share my deep feelings 
& emotions.
It hit me tonight to run quickly after the rain,
and that is only the beginning.

Oh! let it rain again & again,let the thunder start 
singing a song with the strong rain drops vibrating 
like the echo of music from afar. 

Walking alone by the ocean I felt heavy drops 
of rain flowing down my cheeks mingling with 
my tears whispering,its me your friend the rain 
again,I haven't much time,I am passing by to 
listen to your heart beat & wash away your 
fears to run under your feet warm them 
with a hug,and hear me convey a message 
to your thoughts that i love you.
 
& decided to carry you away out West,deliver you 
to pass sometime with your children,hug them,
love them,talk to them,share with them,sit with 
them until I come back to fly you home again.

Here I am back from this memorable panoramic 
journey while piloted by the pouring rain,
love the rain,an eternal friend as long as I live.
                          
    Therese Bacha                                                                                              
 
  21/5/2013

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
 She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell     then came the ice, this went on for months.

The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
 I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.

They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves.  Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
 
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday. 
as they were called WEEDS ..
 The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.

However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .

The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
 Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
  She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Rain is in the air. 
Is it the clouds gathering 
that tells me so? 

No.  It is the ache. 
That rears it's  head when 
dampness fills the air. 

I creak and I groan. 
Now that's a new sound.  
What a way to predict rain. 

I am more accurate 
than the local weatherman. 
Not once have I been wrong. 

I am a rain gauge. 
An Old Wives Tale come to life. 
Come hear my joints pop.

Copyright © Paula Swanson | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |
  The Rain tried to find its way into the very depth of the souls, sneering at the gloomy faces of people who were walking through water. Unexpectedly a sudden clear laugh of a boy who jumped into a puddle mocked all His aspirations. 

  With an increased force the Rain turned into a wall of water pushing the pedestrians into the open doors of the shops, blocking the traffic and confusing the air controllers at an airport nearby. 

  Seizing for a moment almost absolute power over the world, the Rain suddenly felt bored and first burst out into numerous crossing lines, then calmed down and throwing the last blast of wind with water drops at the running boy, He sighed in despair and having banged few open windows He disappeared, staying for a moment in thick eye-lashes of a girl who was adjusting her make up.

Copyright © Serge Belinsky | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
I love when its wet
you can bet
nuthin to do
 its a feeling too
that ease your pain
its SEX
AND THE RAIN

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
Upon these placid waters the wind blows fair,
bream chase waves tossed by boats here, and there,

Crimson vessels slice through  crest,
giving channel cats time to rest,

Blue herons walk along picking through perch nest,
murmuring bull frogs make their best rain calls,

Some white owl makes nightly squalls,
using nothing more than stars to light his way,

Mystical mighty cypress trees sway big, and tall,
they too seem to have something to say to all...





For contest 179

Copyright © Danielle Wise Baxter | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
The thunder rolled sounding like drum beats
 it played a solo tune across the dark skies
 lightning displayed different formations 
as it struck the damp earth below
 wind picked up wildly blowing
 all within its path.....
The sun refused to shine
as the rain heavily pelted down
the earth became soaked in minutes
water began to run down the crevices
the lightning and thunder slowly subsided
leaving only the sound of the heavy pouring rain.

27/07/15

Copyright © Phyllis Babcock | Year Posted 2015

Details | Romanticism |
A sweet flower's funeral
displayed in the cold months
of snowy weather and bone chilling shivers.
A sweet flower burned away, dried up;
buried six feet under.

Oh, my sweet flower,
how you once bloomed with no remorse,
like a madman blooming with beauty
and a glorious halo over your head
shinned with such power and blinding glory.

Oh my sweet flower how you have gone now,
resting in peace in the land of paradise.
Oh, my heart it is weak when I see your face,
of once beautiful smiles and warm embraces.
I can hear your crying out to be free.

Snowing and bone chilling cold ripes at my soul
and feelings of sorrow rage through my blood,
boiling my hatred to the world, for losing your
sweet and ever glorious beauty.

What I would give away, if I could be with you
one last night, one last night together
to hold you in my arms, to smell your sweet perfume
that brings back sweet memories of you and I.
What I would do to be with you,
such romance travels through my heart in the highways
of my veins in my body, love is all throughout me,
and my heart breaks when pictures of you start to collect dust.

My love for you, my sweet flower,
is still ingering through the air,
as I travel and look upon a tombstone
which shows your beautiful name.

Come to me my dear flower,
when spring comes,
come to me my dear, sweet flower.
And bloom once again,
twice as large as last year,
and ten times more beautiful then last year.
Come to me in the first months of spring
in my dreams, so I could sit and talk with you.
I miss you already,
and my heart crys,
my eyes flood with tears of sorrow.
I miss our love we shared.
Long walks,
cosy talks,
warm cuddling embraces
and beautiful displayed in a picture frame.
Now I hear the tapping of raindrops on my window pane.
That is all that keeps me company,
that and the rose you gave to me
and a picture of you and me.
Love is endless, even when blue eyed Death comes to visit
and play a game of chess with us,
we all play our game, my love.
I shall go tonight
in my sleepy slumber
and dream of you in the times of our height in our love for each other.
My lost love, you are gone, resting in paradise,
but never forgotten my sweet flower.

-10/6/2013-

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
So what's your status,
Nimbostratus?
Are you here to stay, like old Aunt Gladys?
- To rain and rain until we're glad it's
Not for you to own the day,
But eventually must fade away
Before the steady strugglings of the sun
Which must break through once they've begun
To tear apart your greyish gloom
And give the sunlight proper room
To push along those friendly, fluffy clouds
Through blue skies where you're not allowed.

So go thy way, ignoble cloud!
Carry off that misty shroud
Below which you have so confined us,
And let us put thy wet behind us
And revel in the newborn sun,
It's warmth welcome to everyone.
You overstay your station here
Far beyond what would appear
A decent spate of soft rainfall;
Your prescence doth begin to pall
When you hover close from day to day.
All caught beneath wish you away,
And confer on you non-gratis status,
O aggravating nimbostratus!

Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2009

Details | Imagism |
A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast

Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds

Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are

Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs

Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens

#Poem by +Gokul Alex

Copyright © Gokul Alex | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Castles and mansions such tourist attractions
Buses carrying the flocks
Of sightseers a many
Cameras flashing at old Big Ben
Back streets full of litter and broken men
Bottles empty after another cold night
The beauty of poverty, empty wind swept dirty street roads
That fills one with loneliness and sadness
For all those whose suffering
Is no beauty at all
A single tear
For the young and old
Walking the streets of London
Where the sun hardly shines
Bullets of rain to flood the poor
Compassion has been drowned in the Thames
Me? I shed a tear, and fill my belly at the pub
I walk the streets of London with shiny new shoes
I pass old men and vets, hands held out
They, awarded medals of bronze and me with my gold watch
The day comes to an end
Do not ask me why
We are all so lonely


Notes: Inspired by the song of the same name!

This is the song
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YKu4DaPi-qY
London is a beautiful city, I have been many times, The song is more about social issues that any particular city.

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |
Hey!
are 
you 
a 
Zulu? 
Am 
a 
Bushman...no 
you 
are 
a 
Bantu,a 
Bantu 
or 
Hottentots? 
Maybe 
an 
Afrikaner.                          
I 
came 
from 
the 
Cape 
Colony...not 
from 
Soweto 
where"balck 
animals"are 
Dwelling, 
pathetic 
Creatures 
formed 
by 
the 
Hands 
of 
Hades.
Beast 
of 
burden 
for 
the 
Afrikaner.
Bound 
with 
fetters 
and 
Chains,it 
ploughs 
the 
Field,cultivates 
and 
plants 
The 
seed 
of 
sedition..alas!
These 
beasts 
un-
wind 
their 
yokes;to 
be 
human.
Can 
a 
leopard 
change 
its 
Spots?
Yes 
these 
animals
Prophesied.
Lo!
what 
do 
I 
now 
see?
No 
Beast 
of 
burden 
to 
till 
our 
Land 
rather 
they 
dwell 
Among 
us.
Alas! 
their 
prophecy 
lives!

Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

Details | Tanka |
Mount Etna’s raining; smoke and rocks fall from the sky; tempestuous beast! Although she does have a right, her warning goes unheeded.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015