By God, when the rain
in summer nights
spat into jam jars,
I could hear the pots
swallow the slurps of
pitter-patter raindrops
tumbling down in slips
on small panes, as though
starlets plunged like
pitted pips torn out
of blackberry skies;
the morning jars
left with shining tears
waiting to rise as
darkening blossoms
of the night again.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
By God, when the rain
in summer nights
spat into jam jars,
I could hear the pots
swallow the slurps of
pitter-patter raindrops
tumbling down in slips
on small panes, as though
starlets plunged like
pitted pips torn out
of blackberry skies;
the morning jars
left with shining tears
waiting to rise as
darkening blossoms
of the night again.
Draft version for a Poetry lecture workshop.
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