Rain, rain, dear rain
Please come back again
Don't you hesitate or refrain
We are parched and drained.
Do fill us to the brim
Till the end of our whims
Either we'll learn to swim
Or get an honoured requiem.
Dark clouds we badly yearn
Hope, light will follow in turn
We await for our fate to churn
Help us put out fire in our urn.
The desire and longings for water was
enormous
Yet the supplies continue to dwindle year
after year
The older trees parched by a permanence of thirst
began to give up
As the waters too began to move southwards
Desolations taken over, only the howling of
wind storms
and the brave of Camels roams the lands
The landscape has been redesigned on account
of dryness
The land is parched on account of moisture.
(Written on the 15th October, 2026)
Again the well of poetry was dry,
My pail was drawing up no deep inspired
Thought or subject matter. All was dull, tired,
Stale water, no exciting trick to try.
Once more the fountain gave me naught but sigh
And sigh of lukewarm breadth — of old expired
Content, no fresh drop of song so desired.
Blessed muse of music, you heard my dire cry!
Pulling at the cord, hoisting and heaving,
I felt the bucket slosh again—with life!
Patiently, ladling out ideas delayed,
I splashed myself with fresh drink. Relieving
A murky mind, I felt renewed and rife.
And thus of nothingness was something made.
A wedding celebration,
should be time for fun and joy
but we see undercurrents,
displaying fissures.
Rain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
Placed 6th
_______________________________________________________
Upon the parched earth
Gathered clouds poured down nonstop
Boats on every road
Before I write a single word,
I will put on my suit of armor.
So that you wont see what's hiding,
way down deep inside of me.
Anyway,
I have so much to say.
But you're not here,
and you're so confident that I wont care.
All I have left to be,
are pieces of me on the floor.
I have so many flat words,
that have never found worth.
All these pieces left of me,
I pray they fill the hole in your heart.
Your love has been a dry well,
That could never quench my thirst.
Though time goes by,
I will always be with you.
Little sips of others,
Little drips of me.
Just one tiny drink from your well,
Then I'd be so satisfied.
My insatiable thirst,
It will be left behind, when I die.
All my words that are left unsaid,
They will never find you.
I will always be,
looking for drips to fill me.
Every poem penned may not get writ well,
Some bloom, some wilt, some see not much of light,
A full moon wanting to cast silver spell,
Dawn dawning, submits to her splendours bright.
Not all pens get to reach the depth of heart,
Nor all of life may from a dream dreamt stem,
Some get withered by old nightmares apart,
And fail to imprint their lasting emblem.
Man toils still all the same, hindrance nor let,
Tries spreading dream blossoms on a tall bough,
And yet, few what they greed may ever get,
Alas, soil seeds or not, one ought to plough.
Man ought to sow seeds— wild rather than not,
And never once keep parched his karmic pot.
_______________________________________
Sonnet |02.12.2020|
Topic: life, death, poetry (of life), work/karma
I remember that well
The poisoned water within
My stomach churns at the thought of its drink
It's been cleaned, or so I'm told.
I can taste its metallic memory
Involuntarily I retch
Shudder.
Can I drink blissfully again
When each glass brings suspicion of death?
Would I chose ignorance?
Is fear so unreasonable?
Shall I suffer instead my thirst?
Parched, shall I instead choose sand?
Licking the dust from my teeth whilst I watch
Ice clinking, water cold and refreshing as it's
Poured, generously, freely, without cost...
But is it a trap? A mirage?
A cruel trick?
Can you ever enjoy the cool, clear water
Once you've tasted the poisoned well?
The hippo and the crocodile, rarely bosom buddies
Tighter squeeze together as the shrinking water muddies
Some fall by the wayside as that arid river bed
Leads those that do not falter to a bitter head to head
Jostling for position in the sun’s relentless gaze
The water hole is barely damp for days and days; and days
And one by one their eyelids close on this their final stand
Even as the clouds portend new rain to quench the land
The final crocodile takes a final snorted breath
The final hippo perseveres with all that he has left
But soon he too succumbs for the sake of just one sip
And so he fails to comprehend that steady, drip... drip... drip
She wished to be held in her lover's arms for the ink of her sword had parched.
Winner of the One Liner Contest.
Sponsored by Silent One
I hear the crackling winds;
I see the dawn of the horizon;
Birds ever so, flying.
Alas, but what is this,
As I ponder, I wonder I wish;
Could it be fairer, yet it’s better
Spring has gone
Shall not be long when the heat of the summer heart;
Keeps are mouths, throats and bodies parched…
7/27/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
Sun
shines long
parched plateau
summer smoulders
June
May 22, 2019
parched, i trudged mirage trail
cradle song of your oasis
returned the lost sleep to my eyes
i dreamt a dream of you
drenched in radiant rainbow hue
May 15, 2019
Name of Challenge : Writing Challenge 2, May 2019, Lind68868
Sponsor : Dear Heart
Theme Chosen : a dream #3
Doused by a cloud, Earth
Must drink quickly as she’s parched;
It’s days between clouds.
I would happily drown within the sparkling pools of your eyes..
Your hair, damp, falling upon silken shoulder..
Our senses alive, afire..
My body craves your touch, velvet hands gripping..
The delicate curve of your breast presses against my chest..
Your mouth, hungry, inviting me to explore..
It is a feast as our lips dance,
like parched earth consuming the rains...TAH
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