Tag Archives: RAIN

THE RAINS CAME

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Night grows stronger

as sun delays no longer

to set beyond cloud covers,

dragging our nights

up to our chins and over our days.

Clouds linger, in comfort, like old friends.

Rain of tears express our reign over joy and sorrow

pouring down on each tomorrow

to ease the heat encompassing us all.

Sky’s waters flood the senses

and tear down trees and homes and fences

which separated us before our fall.

With no direction and little discretion,

increasing speed, we set climate’s pace.

Caught up in the flow we pick up the pace

of this race to our self-destruction.

In our own darkness

the rains came.

Life will never

be

the same.

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STORM STORY

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Dark as night the sun took flight

before the winds wild and tight

forced their way with all their might

across the city showing no pity.

Trees split and showered leafy bowers,

or erupted from the ground with nary a sound

their roots so deep now unbound.

The wind became the only sound

creaking and weeping across sky and ground

raining tears in swirling fears that pound

hearts startled as they ran for cover

before a storm like no other.

I love a storm which reminds us all

that we have little say at all.

Climate has a mind of its own and yet

we must never forget and quickly recall

That we cannot tame nature

but we can tame our selves.

Natural disasters may not not be natural

after all.

What more do we need to believe

climate change has come to stay

unless we find a new way

to harness wind and sun and wave.

I welcome the message the storm left behind.

We must not delay altering our minds

and opening our hearts to the divine

which moves through nature’s mysterious ways

to offer us life day after day,

until storms take away sunny days with dark displays

of the death and destruction at play

among those who refuse to change their ways.

The future is ours, like it or not.

It is not too late to do what we ought.

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THE RAINS CAME AND CAME AND CAME

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We keep thinking

it cannot become any worse

this placid earth 

awash in excess or in drought.

Hibiscus big as dinner pates

strung among drenched leaves,

hangs in drooping loops to the ground.

Sun makes its way warily

through clouds weighing the sky down,

new-born leaves water-logged and drowned.

The heavy weight of watered threats

is nearly too much to bear.

Too heavy to breathe, saturated, air

keeps me waiting inside,

Parched lips and  dry-aged skin

too thin to accept such weight again,

hangs loose, losing all pride;

jealous of the hibiscus

which still stands tall

strong enough to resist it all.

I anxiously await a break in the clouds,

days of hope and rest in the sun.

Even the earth is in tears these days.

Like a child I hold my sign and sing aloud

“Rain, rain, go away. Come again

another day.” Or not. Never again

should we women and men

so misbehave and reduce our gardens to tears.

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GARDEN LESSON

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There is nothing like a drought

to teach what life is all about.

Waiting for the rain to fall

is not sufficient to survive.

Tender patience does not thrive.

Buds remain closed, tucked and hidden

deep among leaves’ folds

offering a pace to hide.

Roots buckle down deep

and down, down, down

to depths they seldom explore;

knowing once the rains do come

they may open up closed doors.

Eventually, rains come, and even pour.

Rains batter plants stressed and sore;

opening caches held within their core.

It is only after sun appears

that plants let go their fears.

And in that moment plants flower,

Their faith in Nature restored.

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RAIN,RAIN,GO AWAY…

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Each drop of rain a gleeful child

sliding down the sloping roof,

screaming into the wind’s sighs,

laughing along the tiles with smiles,

avoiding gutters at the edge

to drop to the softly sodden ground.

Then across the garden playground

they flow happily, after gathering course,

filling and overflowing puddles without remorse,

which wind pushes gently along

in waves of glee amid storm’s sophistry,

forming new rivers and new seas

where birds and gulls dance happily

along their edge of fleeting beauty.

Squirrels dodge and dart

between each sleek drop,

up damp trunks, across wet branches,

taking their chances to slip and slide

on naked trees taking a shower

in the cool air of a warm January bower.

I celebrate life with each drop of rain.

Rain washes away all tears and pain.

Sun will come soon to end such play.

Rain, rain will go away

and come again another day.

Today, I shall run barefoot in the rain.

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RAIN CAME TO STAY

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Fog and drizzle

drizzle and fog

underwrap

overwrap

low to the ground.

Creep and slide

slide and creep

outside in

inside out

locked up all around.

Soaked and soft

soft and soaked

daylight on

nightlight off

nowhere to be found.

Confused and befuddled

befuddled and confused

sleeping awake

awakening sleep

constantly turned around.

Sun where are you ?

where have you gone ?

Lonely and forgotten

forgotten and alone

my senses confound.

The rain keeps coming down.

And down, and down,

and down.

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CLOUDY DAYS

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The rain came during the night.

Soft and silent blessings fell

to drench the earth

where mankind dwells.

But they slept on unaware

that helpful forces left a gift

to soften the soil

of hardened hearts.

They rose with the dawn,

faint light clouded over,

and misunderstood such peace

brought a chance to subside

the blazing heat of anger

in fearful eyes 

scorched

by staring at the sun

of a too-bright false sunrise.

Cloudy days ahead 

to soften the blow

when they awaken to the lies

that they have been told.

Every artist knows

one sees clearer

on cloudy days

when truth is crisp

despite the haze.

Or maybe,

because of it.

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REMEMBER THE TREES

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Never forget the trees.

Soon all we may have of them

are distant memories.

They seemed so stolid and secure,

able to bow but seldom break

in heavy winds, for centuries before

we all but ignored the earth

below and skies above

which clasped their roots

in iron bonds of love,

and watered them with gentled rains

formed in clouds of warmth 

passing over frozen ice fields again

and again and again.

We have become uprooted as well.

The treasures of nations replaced 

by campaigns of disinformation

to make us not pay attention

to earth’s disposable survival.

Lake Mead dries up

while Kentuckians and Pakistanis

flee to higher ground

and thousands hunger 

for grains of  wheat and barley and rye.

Hunger and thirst are pandemic.

There is no real question why.

Only, why have we waited so long to try

to change our senseless 

and destructive ways.

Remember the trees, and ocean’s waves,

and fields of red poppies and lavender,

and groves of olives and vines of grapes.

Remember the trees

on fire or drowning

as we soon may be.

Remember the trees.

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CALM AND COOL HOPES

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The heat of the night

left a scorched dawn.

Crimson and gold flames

marched across earth’s brow.

Silence held court

over insect and birdsong.

Canons blew measured beats

throughout the night to face

ceasefire at dawn.

Even the cicadas are silenced

under the strain of clouds

threatening a refrain of rain

over and over and over again.

The battlefield of flowers 

hold the whispered beat

of life-sounds’ defeat.

There is a beauty to such calm

where life is pinned down

to lie in wait for safe return

of cooler days and nights.

One could choose weariness.

One could choose delight.

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