Long Liferain Poems
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“i’m only happy when it rains,”
moans shirley manson when she’s backed by
butch vig & an orchestra of overdubbed
distorted guitars enhanced by sythensizers
a la trent reznor
the genius who is credited in garbage’s first album---
one doesn’t have to be a meteorologist to
think that she & her crew may be on to
something---
for the rain washes all the dirt away
the rain replenishes the earth so that it can sustain another day
when damaged endlessly by the
cruel
sun
scorching its surface & all the living things upon it
(during the spring and summer months especially, when all the idiots are
running round with nothing on & with no sunscreen, etc. to fend off
melanoma)---
the rain is what those unconventional people who
dwell in the shadows
feast on---
and who are these people?
they are the ones that choose not to smile when
everyone else does---
they are the ones that are not easily
amused---
they/we
are the ones that run out in the rainstorm &
dance naked in the cold wetness---
whipping our hair around in a rhythmic gesture
a middle finger in the air to any kind of
“creator”
that would shine its face down upon us all and
communicate
destruction with the poker face of
peace---
give us the rain when it comes
give us the floods
the hurricanes
the torrential downpour that accompanies it all
so that on the days that we aren’t struggling to swim
& struggling to float amidst the chaos
we understand how fortunate we are
to even be breathing---
so that our ever-complaining selves
die with the remnants of the wash-away
& you & i can wave goodbye to the old
selves
who thrived only for sun &
smiles
not understanding that in this pubic hair of a moment in which each of us
spend
together
on this beautiful planet
avec all the other plants & creatures who dwell with us,
that
we must savor every second
be it in sun or rain
and let it be known that the rain does so much for us
and yet is always pelted with insults & “evil” metaphor---
rain,
my friends,
is getting the bad rap---
and i don’t think i stand alone on the sideline campaigning---
there are thousands, albeit it
millions
marching for the rain to come
and keep our civilization
quenched---
news flash: without good ol’ h20 we are all dead as
doornails---
so stop worshipping the sun
&
give it up for the
rain.
There sits a little boy at the bus stop
Who watches the rain drops.
He smiles on the outside, to show how brave he is.
Yet
On the inside he lets his tears run deep like the Nile River.
As he realizes, that he is lonely without his mother.
He gazes at the rainy streets, and wonders why he has been abandoned.
He stares at the passing cars with sad eyes, because they seem to be just like him
-just lost lambs trying to find their way home
People walk by him, some stop and talk.
Others just keep on walking, afraid they might actually give a damn.
To him, all men seem like hollow mannequins, because he grew up fatherless.
The women just seem like after images of his beloved mother.
As more and more people pass by him.
He asks them, “Have you seen my mother?”
None answer him
As he asks them again, “Have you seen my mother?”
He tells them that, “she is beautiful, as beautiful as the morning sun”
They just laugh at him, in disbelief.
As the wind blows, and rain falls harder, he starts to cough
Finally, a good bystander said he’d had enough.
And he tells the boy, “I’ll take you to your mother.”
They search, and search as the rain pounds on them.
Finally they arrive at the house.
He rings the doorbell.
A woman answers the door.
He tells her “I’ve found your little boy, left alone and asking for you.”
She replied “My son died 7 years ago, waiting for me at a bus stop”.
He looks around to see the boy.
But he was nowhere to be found.
As he leaves he hears a voice say, “I just wanted to see my mother and to grant her,
her wish of happiness. Please treat her well”.
“Would you like to come in?” she asks
“Yes,” he says with a smile.
Form:
'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
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
together.
from the early morning dew which dances amidst the
changing overwhelming heat & humidity comes the
premonition of the
storm & with it
breath by breath
we move closer to the cool reward, that swift & sweet
break of the weather
directly there afterward---
when the rain comes & the earth drinks
after so long starving dry
there are those that complain the rain depresses them
whereas only a moment ago they were grumbling on about
the sweltering sun beating down upon them &
almost as certain as the rain will stop & the sun will set,
the griping will begin when that rain turns to
snow &
the wishing aloud that the heat was still around with its
accompanying sunlight
begins
until of course the spring shows its face
provoking all the hormones to run wild
each breath then will be spent in sexual pursuit
to fill cravings held quietly all winter long
or for the more aesthetically hungry
the need to plant & the need to nurse one’s garden
or simply spend more time outside again
appreciating all the nooks & crannies of the
picturesque realm in which we still
exist
hoping as the next season arrives some may cease
their whining, whimpering, moaning & groaning
concerning any prospective weather patterns &
instead,
value each in its necessity.
We, we, we were like a sunny day
and nothing could get in our way
but she was like a storm cloud..
always trying to bring us down.
I, I, I never thought you'd leave,
for some broken shriveled up weed
but I guess she got you trained
now I'm just trying to avoid the rain.
disguised as a rainbow,
she told you I would never know,
that there's no way I would find out,
well I hope she was worth it now.
because now, I, I am on my way out of town,
go ahead and try and catch me now,
you can apologize for your vain
I'm just trying to avoid the rain.
You cant rain on my heart, like you rained on the start, of the rest of our lives.
You cant rain on my parade like you rained on all the days you said you were all mine
And don't even try to get me back with one of your pathetic pleas
I don't need to know I'm good enough for one of your knees.
Because I know you'll never change..
And I'm just trying to avoid the rain
You, you think you've got it all
with, your oversized barbie doll
but, I've got news for you yeah I've got news yeah,
you, you think your world is great
but, baby I've got the tape
of, her high heels and mini skirt,
in your best friend's T-shirt.
About time to let the memory of us drain,
because now I'm gona bring the rain.
Form:
From a winding black ribbon,
I see a valley green.
Through heat waves and dusty haze,
an oasis seen.
Tucked within the mountain range,
no road leading in.
Testament that the rain does play,
in the desert wind.
From a winding black ribbon,
I turn westward.
Through heat waves and dusty haze,
I only look forward.
Tucked within the mountain range,
my stress does unravel.
Testament that the rain does play,
on the road less traveled
From a winding black ribbon,
I find my way home.
Through heat waves and dusty haze,
I traveled alone.
Tucked within the mountain range,
Off the beaten track
Testement that the rain does play,
even when I come back.
Written by: Paula Swanson
Inspired by the contest: The Road Less Traveled
Hosted by: A Rambling Poet
Placement: 3rd
Some people dismiss the rain
For its lashings
Its beaten track of tears
But don't they see
Its trying to clear our minds
Put at rest today's new fears
On the pavements
Uncertainty seeps into every crack
People begin to grow in their despise
When you are comfortable
With the long sights of society
The rain has tears in its eyes
It wants to wash away the picture
Make things genuine
Awash the world with a fresh view
Don't you see
When the rain washes down
It does nothing but help you
Who hasn't ran through its torrent
Smiled as its fingers
Ran through your hair and touched your face
Please believe me
Those delicate droplets of gentle force
Are your saving saving grace
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
Into
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.
Its raining here in Nottingham
We're having quite a storm
The clouds are black and gathering
But still it is quite warm.
As I'm looking out my window
The rain is coming fast
And now its turned to hail stones
They look like sparkling glass.
I went to put the washing out
But here comes the rain again
The weather here in Nottingham
Is driving me insane.
Now its starting to thunder
And there's lightening too
The streets look like a river
The sky is no longer blue.
I suppose I will have to sit and wait
For the sun to shine
And then I can put the clothes out
On that washing line.