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Benjamin Adams Sep 2012
Thunder shakes its hide of rain.
Against the sky, rain retreats.

Rain makes some people lonely
but graces me like a scar.

Rain makes some people just wet.
Against your skin, rain bright-stars.

Rain drifts in deserted rooms
like a speaker suspended.
"Glisten, eyes, and rain freely."

At home flood-rain drowned my dog.
Shake your coat of rain, fly on.

Rain weaves weary paths like the
old Aurelian stone busts.

Forest rain drips, doesn't fall.
Rain runs down softly like a
colorful painted lasso.

Rain breathes on my window sill
like a loaded rifle. Rain
penetrates all skin and bone.

Rain is more serious than
a lover on his deathbed.

Rain can be pitiful like
glowing fire never dead.

Umbrellas familiar
with rain sit forgotten in
closets with old pairs of shoes.

Direwolves prance through rains with tails
held like a tarantula
in molting season beats drums.


Ashpalt puddles boil with rain.
Against the ground, rain retreats.
Another Creative Writing Assignment- This time the requirements were:
Use the word "rain" in every sentence.
Have four "strange" similes.
Must be at least 30 lines and have syllabic structure (I made mine 7 syllables per line).
Do not rhyme.
Benjamin Adams Sep 2012
Like when they found the chariot
wheels at the bottom of the
Red Sea so was I surprised
at the faint reaching of the
fig tree, clinging to life amidst
so much dust, as it reached
ever upward in an infinite dance,
unaware of its eventual wanweird fate.
But I tracked on, crunching through
the ancient dirt, scrolls strapped
upon my back, coarse leather digging
through my camel's hair robes, sandy
grit forced in the gaps of
my toes. I cracked the locusts
and devoured them, dampening their bitterness
with the sweet warming explosion of
wild honey. So with bound Pleiades
above me, I gave witness to
Jerusalem, saying "After me will come
one more powerful than I, the
thongs of whose sandals I am
not worthy to stoop down and
untie." And I took them into
the Jordan and made them new
men. As the chill waters numbed
their muscles, their hairs pricked up
like gooseflesh, the night echoing with
splashing water and murmured voices. But
slowly the people trickled away, back
to the twang of lutes, their
ladles of soups, and I was
left alone, sitting, contemplating, always waiting.
So I sent forth the ravens,
carrying my message, to meet at
the Brookhollow no matter the obstruction,
to come by wagon or camel,
no matter of rain or flood.
But they were stubborn and prideful,
and would be moved from their
couches probably by no less than
one of Archimedes' great battleship levers,
and even then with massive groaning
like the coarse wooden hulls of
those monolithic ships. Because the sweet
taste of pastries is lodged upon
their tongues, keeping them occupied with
this world instead of the next.
So here I'll stay, always waiting.
I did this for creative writing class. 6 words per line, with these mandatory things:

    5 different sounds
    3 different tastes
    4 different tactile sensations (i.e. the feel of something against the skin)
    A city outside the U.S.
    a simple machine
    a dessert
    a fabric
    a celestial body
    a communication device
    a kitchen utensil
    a specific kind of tree
    a famous body of water
    a kind of shoe
    a brief literary quotation from before 1900
    a rare or unusual garment (e.g. a cuirass)
    a specific kind of bird
    a famous scientist (besides Einstein or Stephen Hawking)
    an interesting street name from your home town
    a piece of furniture
    a form of transportation
    a rare or unusual word (find one in the dictionary)of fewer than three syllables
    an animal
    some kind of meteorological phenomenon, i.e. weather
    a landmark
    a musical instrument
Benjamin Adams Aug 2012
My mind traces your every curve and valley,
yearning for adventure in new lands.
For though unexplored, I can see you fit
me as water in glass.
So why not rush into me, why evade?
Guiding is my specialty, but you writhe
as if in storm, with wind in current as I
grasp futilely at your crashing
waves,
beg for your ordering.
But so it goes,
again,
again,
until I see you have no waves, you weather no storm.
It is merely my eye-shard's trick,
reflected as I lay broken and shattered
about the kitchen floor.
Benjamin Adams Aug 2012
I grasp fading shadows
in the remnants of lost suns.
Benjamin Adams Jul 2012
Whiskey carries me
To the fading afterglow of
Engines spent.
Benjamin Adams Jun 2012
You were out the other day walking,
the perfect outline of the hole in my heart
flitting around in the brightness and heat.
His arm was around your waist
like a vise around my throat.
Summer blush was rising in your cheeks
like the red creeping through my vision.
And my final false anger turned to despair
like the last frenzied motions of a drowning man.
Benjamin Adams May 2012
I'm the pi diameter,
walking razor bladed edge.
Eternally flying the circle
like a great carrion bird
living on half rotten throw away filth.
Make me your center,
the main point in your graph,
diameter divided by two.
Enfold me completely with your area
and I'll wrap you as well.
But I'm the pi diameter,
bound to follow the path
that is furthest away.
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