Rain beats down on the window pane
As the flood gates of Heaven suddenly open
It is pouring out in torrential flow
Like a Reservoir, all at once, broken

It has come down as a welcome respite
To fan away the humid sweltering heat
It falls in drops and flows in rivulets
Washing the dust of summer drought

With a sudden burst from the weight laden clouds
It lashes down in steam and fury
Plummeting to form ripples in puddles
And filling pools and ponds in hurry

In slanting sheets, it almost pounds
Flooding roads and making puddle
Gushing through pipes and rushing down drains
Water floods, causing men to waddle

Rain has its abode in heavens so high
And hides behind clouds of mournful gloom
In silver strings, it spans the Earth
And cleanses the plants in resplendent gleam

Sudden is the wind, coming to shoo away the clouds
And the sky is once more cerulean blue
As the music stops and the humdrum stills
The water seeps, giving no evident clue.

After an angry couple’s furious fight,
As the house goes back to an uncanny calm,
The rain has vanished, leaving little trace
Cooling the Earth and causing no harm

If I were a watch man
I'd grab the moon and
put it in my pocket, man
take it out every now and then
and ask him O moon
is it time yet to give up
the ghost of my past loves
whose paths I've long crossed
lost and missed my chance
since the crows have danced
and left tracks with their feet
cut deep into my cheekbones
but I've never owned a watch
it's true (believe it or not)
or cared to know the time
and the moon looks just fine
shining up there in the sky
such a scene to be seen
instead of stuck in a pocket
of my old gray faded jeans.

for John, it came with
the raucous roar of crowds when he scored
the winning touchdown; for Willie,
when he drove in the final run

for Paul, it came when he charged
a *** bunker on a chunk of rock from hell
he heard no applause--only the rat-tat-tat
of the gun that mowed him down

for Anna, it came with no
sound and fury; only a gentle thank you kiss
from her girl who told her she had been
the best mother in the world

for Rafael, his final hurrah was humble:
a smile from the lady who handed him his last check
after he mopped his last floor, cleaned his final
porcelain bowl, after a patient half century

for me, I don't know when it will be...
perhaps it occurred long ago, in an arena
or on a field I didn't recognize as a place of honor
or perchance tomorrow, when I learn to die

It's
No
Bad
Thing
To
Celebrate
A
Simple
Life

Feast at my death
Lament thee not, at my passing
For I am but a vapor
A winter's breath,
Upon the lips of love

the way in which your image
reflects,
itself upon the matter that makes stuff up.
the colors I see.
the texture my skin is
made to be touched by.

how your image is seen time again,
how I end up spending my days
watching your images.
all of them.
they all inspire my voyage.
my message.
each light beaming source.

I just want to touch it all.
ultimate desire is to merge.
as the moon approaches her turn,
I begin to feel quite fluid.

Amiss am I, awry I be, with thought's not of this sphere, O' how I thinkest of the real me. The real me with none dermis, the reality of none colored blood. I'm katharí psychí;
Of the empyrean love.

Wherein the substance and materials aren't bought, nor sold; I'm sick of the greed, the wantonness, that makes monsters out of men.

I've experienced wantonness, though verily it doesn't please me, I've tasted Lust's, and lust conceives sin;
Sin leadeth to death.

Lord Almighty, protect me from the demon's that never rest, nor do they sleep;

They art witty, unforgiving, they make men's heart's their places to eat and invest.

Renew me Yahweh in this mortal stress, keep mine eye's on thee; O'
Mighty king.

Free me of mine burdens;
And mine restlessness.

Let thine light,
Overshadow me.

© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poet's poetry

A simple man is what I am
I went to no university
Or college of theology
And no doubt that's why I'm confused

It occurs to me, when we see
Leaders and generals of all countries and creeds
Celebrate their victories with smiling pride
Shouldn't they be weeping with shame
For all the innocents who've died?

They all believe that their god is on their side
And quite often, the same god at that
All down the ages, our venerable sages
Have killed, tortured and oppressed each other
In the name of the wishes of god

Now I'm just an ignorant sinner
So can someone please explain
What kind of god do these people believe in
That needs the destruction of his own creations
And all in his holy name?

                                                          ­­  By Phil Roberts