it was a day to be inside...so i mused and wrote
It's summer, but it's raining.
I can't quite understand
When a scorcher pushed
electricity through the roof yesterday
That tree really is close to the power lines
The branches all intertwined now
throw themselves about in every direction
Like they're being towel-dried
The wind must be coming from
Several directions, multi-pronged attack
Opening holes where plants don't need drainage
But the breeze just carries on blowing
It's so dull that the fluoro pink shirt
Of a woman wearing a straw hat and
Black exercise pants with a white stripe
Shows up without having to squint
The only sound is the leaves' rustle.
It's almost like I'm the only unfortunate
Soul left in this corner of the earth
It's almost like a ghost street
I doubt the rain has even
changed the colour of the asphalt
I bet it's just as slippery as before,
Too little to make too much of an impact
But still enough for people to
Have something to talk about,
Enough to darken the house and my heart.
No use in forecasting, we'll never understand
Question it all you like
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 789 times
Written on 2006-08-05 at 11:27
Tags Summer 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Weather Warning
"In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer"- Albert CamusIt's summer, but it's raining.
I can't quite understand
When a scorcher pushed
electricity through the roof yesterday
That tree really is close to the power lines
The branches all intertwined now
throw themselves about in every direction
Like they're being towel-dried
The wind must be coming from
Several directions, multi-pronged attack
Opening holes where plants don't need drainage
But the breeze just carries on blowing
It's so dull that the fluoro pink shirt
Of a woman wearing a straw hat and
Black exercise pants with a white stripe
Shows up without having to squint
The only sound is the leaves' rustle.
It's almost like I'm the only unfortunate
Soul left in this corner of the earth
It's almost like a ghost street
I doubt the rain has even
changed the colour of the asphalt
I bet it's just as slippery as before,
Too little to make too much of an impact
But still enough for people to
Have something to talk about,
Enough to darken the house and my heart.
No use in forecasting, we'll never understand
Question it all you like
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 789 times
Written on 2006-08-05 at 11:27
Tags Summer 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Texts |
by Caila IhleLatest textsOperataHotshot Sleet Parade Hotplate Hands Trivial Flare-Ups |
Increase font
Decrease