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 Jan 2021 Juhlhaus
phil roberts
There's a shower of rain
Yet the sun still shines
There must be a rainbow
Somewhere

An old man nods in his chair
He came from nowhere
And went nowhere else
Journeying all the way

Now he journeys through time
Down the aching years
Things that he's seen and done
Some good and wondrous
And some of them terrible

An old man nods in his chair
Travelling
Behind closed eyes
All the things he's seen and done
The people he's known
All the things he's said
Within his nodding head

Tears pour down his face
Down the canyons grooved by time
And yet he smiles
Gently and softly
There must be a rainbow
Somewhere

                       By Phil Roberts
I thought I'd give this another airing.
 Nov 2019 Juhlhaus
Sylvia Plath
Out here there are no hearthstones,
Hot grains, simply.  It is dry, dry.
And the air dangerous.  Noonday acts queerly
On the mind's eye erecting a line
Of poplars in the middle distance, the only
Object beside the mad, straight road
One can remember men and houses by.
A cool wind should inhabit these leaves
And a dew collect on them, dearer than money,
In the blue hour before sunup.
Yet they recede, untouchable as tomorrow,
Or those glittery fictions of spilt water
That glide ahead of the very thirsty.

I think of the lizards airing their tongues
In the crevice of an extremely small shadow
And the toad guarding his heart's droplet.
The desert is white as a blind man's eye,
Comfortless as salt.  Snake and bird
Doze behind the old maskss of fury.
We swelter like firedogs in the wind.
The sun puts its cinder out.  Where we lie
The heat-cracked crickets congregate
In their black armorplate and cry.
The day-moon lights up like a sorry mother,
And the crickets come creeping into our hair
To fiddle the short night away.
If you were here, I'd sing to you
You're on the other side, as the skyline splits in two
I'm miles away from seeing you
But I can see the stars from America
I wondered, do you see them too?
So open your eyes and see
The way our horizons meet
And all of the lights will lead
Into the night with me
And I know these scars will bleed
But both of our hearts believe
All of these stars will guide us home
All of the stars( ed sheeran)
 Jun 2019 Juhlhaus
Kalarav
Pour
 Jun 2019 Juhlhaus
Kalarav
We have the privilege
to romanticise rain.
We talk about the cold breeze,
the soothing sounds
of falling droplets
and the feelings
that are evoked within us.

However, to some others,
rain simply means
a cold sleepless night.
Rain, to them
is like an uninvited guest,
who finds its way through
cracks and holes
and sits uncomfortably close.
A guest who leaves
only when they please.

To some others
rain is like an old friend
who's face they can no longer
remember.
They don't even remember
the last time they met
because it did not seem
like an incident
that was important enough
to commit to memory.
If only they had known
that it was the last time
in a long time...

And the ones who farm
to feed us all
pray for rain
that is just enough.
Not too less or too much.
And when it pours,
the elixir flows
to quench the thirst of doubts
'will there be yield?'
'will my children eat?'
A reassuring yes.

So, the next time
rain runs towards you
and drenches you
with an affectionate hug,
embrace it
and let it be no stranger.
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