The grey clouds shift and swirl above my head,
slowly, almost imperceptibly getting darker;
as if anger has forced a flush of colour to their cheeks.
I crane my neck, searching for the transformation
of anger to grief; for the tears to pour out,
to rain down on those of us below that don't mind
being a shoulder to lean on.

(C) 23/6/14
Courtney L

Mist is a kiss,
Upon my bare skin,
In the middle of night in the rain,
A lover's caress,
A joy in each drop,
The love that falls from above.

In darkness I stand,
Each drop and each sound,
The peace of the valley below,
A kiss and a touch,
A whisper and blush,
The rain is my lover and friend.

I dance in the dark,
To a song no one knows,
As my skin is caressed by the rain,
My hips they do sway,
My arms are upraised,
My thanks for the kiss of the rain.

There is no joy,
As complete as mine now,
Out all alone in the rain,
No sound can be heard,
But the ****** of rain,
Here so far from the town.

Each splash of a drop,
A whisper, a touch,
It brings such joy to my soul,
My lover, my friend,
The life giving rain,
The moisture makes love to my skin.

Mist is a kiss,
Upon my bare skin,
In the middle of night in the rain,
A lover's caress,
A joy in each drop,
The love that falls from above.

~The Love That Falls From Above by Bethany Davis, June 7, 2014

Like caterpillars
Able to crawl out cocoon    
As a butterfly

leaving a situation can be beneficial
not forgetting we take ourselves
into our new surroundings

Writer's blocks build walls of divide.
On the one side jump experience and feeling and emotion and thought, but on the other sit the words that rest in my mind and refuse to wake up from their pesky slumbers of stubborn laziness. All it takes is one word to smuggle itself passed a crack in the wall and there's a melody of language. The ideas can shoot itself only so high without its counterpart on the other side helping it reach the top. Oh writer's blocks, please stop mounting yourselves on top of one and other. With every solidifying brick, another word slips away and slowly writes itself into a permanent shut-eye. I know you mean no harm and simply want to exist in the struggle for perfected poetry, but my life currently lacks its  therapy. I appreciate your necessary hindrances, but if you could help me harmonize my mind and soul, I'd value your necessity much more.

But now it's 1 am
and the dim light of the moon
illuminates my bedroom.
The light falls right onto my eyes
and I am forced to sit and think.
Many things come to mind.
Thoughts come flooding in,
and somehow,
you manage to crawl deep into my thoughts.
"I miss you."
I tell myself,
but I know you are happy,
and I know you're fine without me.
It hurts,
but I have to manage to be okay with it.
I roll onto my right side and the light
dances off my face.
My room falls dark and lonely again.
I am left with just my thoughts.
This is my life.

Near, near are my lucid dreams.
Sultry sleep, augmenting realty
Today, nothing will be as it seems.

Flashes of translucent, magnified beams,
Lighting lingers in treacherous tonality
Near, near are my lucid dreams.

The water flows in upside-down streams,
Rivers rage in confused commonalities
Today, nothing will be as it seems.

The mechanic roar of howling screams,
Shrapnel shrieking in utter infinities.
Near, near are my lucid dreams.

Pulleys construct convoluted schemes
While pollution parades in notorious normality
Today, nothing will be as it seems.

Awake. I go forth, my mind again seamed.
Awake. I go back, into a world of formality.
Near, near are my lucid dreams
Today, nothing will be as it seems.