Raining

I can no longer write as rain ekes,
it seeks through my soul to find an outlet,
I am not merely grooved,
in the incompleteness of light
I touch at just the travesty,
I play kitten noses at windows,
little snubs of childishness.
Do not move, oh don't stray,
I am crept in uniform pattern,
the singer long unslept,
who wept at flowers, cut,
stems sore and crushed,
oh such mutilation it is abhorrent.

My penmanship is no longer needed,
I wrote in calligraphy the cartology of us,
now we have Sat Nav that leads us to rivers,
I will cry you one, but mine as in Utah
will be salted and seasoned
or perhaps as in Israel, just plain dead.

Oh love me more and if indeed less
scoop from your finest finger
the fattest, juiciest tear,
let your fingertip remind you of me,
long after you licked
and the skies dried,
the trails, trecked
and lovers wrecked.
I need an outpour,
someone needs to feed the spores,
they will die and I will cry.
Oh how my tears are spent,
how relentlessly it rains today.




Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 409 times
Written on 2012-10-05 at 21:14

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I don't think I coud live in a region without rain. Contrary to logic, often colors looker brighter on cloudy days. And the syncopated tempo of the rain sort of hypnotises me and makes me, well, want to write poems. It's a kind of pleasant sadness.

Good job, as always.
2012-10-07