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liz Mar 2018
rainstorms steep
like tea leaves in boiling water
the clouds growing fat on
electricity and water vapour until
they can no longer expand
and the fragrance explodes
amorphous and yet
harsh, driving shards of
H₂O through the warmth
of sweaters stuffed by
bodies nourished
by the rain not as
gentle as scented steam
from a cup of steeped leaves
but just as incensed
was told to write about storms, and of course, I wrote about tea instead. but it turned out okay.
Hannah Bauer  Jul 2015
Hannah Bauer Jul 2015
When we see dark clouds,
we think the storm is beautiful.
We sit in our homes
and listen to the rain
soaking into the ground.
We go outside
and dance.

Sometimes there is destruction.
Sometimes there is chaos.
But there is still rain
And with rain,
the flowers and trees
are able to grow.

They become stronger.

Are not humans the same?
We see rainstorms and we see beauty.
Why is it that when we see
the storms of life,
we see only
Only pain.

*Even though the storm is painful,
we grow like nature.
SG Holter May 2015
Cover your nerves.
Stop picking at scars to
Make them wounds again,

Healing is the super in
Dry your tears when looking

Back; you'll see yesterday more
Bitterness is darkness to

The blind, grenade shrapnel
In the body of a brave one now

Stand up and smile at the light;
There are many enough who bask in
The blackness of their history.  

You've fought.
Cried rainstorms and tidal waves,

Run your hands across the view of Heaven
From the bellies of Hell shivering.
It takes courage to fall,

Grace to fly.
So fly.
It's as easy as trying.
And as I lie in bed,
Staring at the ceiling above me,
The rise and fall of my chest
Reminding me that I am alive,
Listening to the rain,
Landing on the roof,
The sky assures me that
There is nothing wrong
With having a good cry.
lonely nights and a steady rain
The rain drums down like red ants,
each bouncing off my window.
The ants are in great pain
and they cry out as they hit
as if their little legs were only
stitche don and their heads pasted.
And oh they bring to mind the grave,
so humble, so willing to be beat upon
with its awful lettering and
the body lying underneath
without an umbrella.
Depression is boring, I think
and I would do better to make
some soup and light up the cave.
Arya Night  Mar 2021
Arya Night Mar 2021
Beware of the girl who like rainstorms
The girl who’s thought are only
Quieted by the roll of thunder
The girl who find peace in
Deafening noise
The girls who’s eyes trap
lighting and keep it as her own.
The girl who laughs while
the heavens tremble
Beware of the girl who likes rainstorms
Because she feels at home in the storm
And find power in the chaos
I’ve always love listening to thunder storms. It’s help me whenever I feel powerless.
mark john junor Jul 2014
in her devilishly shy
is a wild
lips of crimson creams
eyes deep waters blue

candlelight breathes promise into her warmth
the way she holds me tells me shes mine
but moonlight dances with her beauty
without her night would seem so vain

evenings magic at her fingertips
and with its she paints such pretty pictures
dancefloor with a sea of stars
a beach with the gentle sea
meadows with summer sun
such pretty things
are just a happiness that she finds in rainstorms
are just a beauty of living that she finds in my arms
safe and warm
in her devilishly shy
she is a wild

lips of crimson creams just for me
skin willin' and soft neath my hand
and the way she holds me tells me she is mine
in her devilishly shy
i see the naughty girl smiling
and i want to take her right there
in a wild way
Ayaba Babe Dec 2012
My teeth
Strolling along the beach of your lower lip
Swimming in saliva waves,
I swim to you
Like Baywatch
Watching you
Is like announcing a severe weather alert
Urgently advising to take shelter
There's a storm on the horizon.
Clouds accumulating in your eyes
Precipitation down pouring between my thighs

those eyes

When clouds collide
The thunder transforms me.
My rib cage shatters.
Claws secured around your head
Fingers knotted in your dreads
Dragging you down, down
I want you to drown
I want you to struggle
To scream out in vain-
Your lips caress each syllable of my name
Like lightening.
Like lightening
The sunshine in your smile reminds me that
Naturally, the skys are blue
Meteorology eyes
Do you wonder too,
If the forecast will always be sunny?
Megan Aug 2014
Thunderclaps and lightning bolts
make the symphony of the night.

Tonight they play "3 o'Clock Rain,"
orchestrated by God himself.

All the stars sit in their balcony seats,
adorned in their dazzling regalia.

The moon man but peaks from behind his cloud curtain,
too shy to show his face to the earthly audience.

It is nature's lithe rolls and soft rumbling
that sing me to sleep tonight.
Midnight thunderstorms always calm me.
rainstorms fiercely bulge the waves
toss honeysuckle and bougainvilleas
blow their blossoms high
towards the rainbow
that in sunny moments
sparkles over volcanic hills
Reece Aug 2014

The road flies past underneath the tires of the car
and there's a hazy blur as the trees fly by
as fast as the regrets flitting across her mind
like so many white lines falling beneath the left wheels

She's never been to Chicago alone before
Yet she's felt alone in so many places
It was time for a new environment and new faces
and to drink greedily from Illinois skies

She plans to drink more air than alcohol for once
To be drunken in lust or contentment at a push
To feel and experience fully without substance
To be intoxicated on some profound emotion

She pulls up to the curb and kills the engine
so that time ceases to exist
Heart pounding, mouth dry, she steps onto the hot pavement
Every movement magnified in a Midwest summer meeting

Her ankles wobble over 3-inch heels with each step
stumbling like so many times before, but different this time
She takes a deep breath of her new-found independence
and takes the first steps into the welcoming light of the sun


It's funny how philosophical eyes can interpret the mundane
Every step an existential crisis under the surface
But even so, the days continue to come and go
as sure as the sun, blocked by clouds occasionally, but still there
like figures in the city, obscured by passing buses
You slash tires and try to blow the clouds away
because even big bad wolves run out of breath
A collaborative poem in two parts
written with
during a family road trip
on August 6, 2014
Janette Sep 2012
Hush, my heart, for something is done...

Watch for the night
to lay our vows
over the wild parable of gardens
and over the wet lessons of the moon,
that give us prophecy in whispers
of dream, elope, and leave,
the absence of still rooms,
soothing, the svelte lips
descending upon my neck
in the seance of evening,
you soak calla lilies
of our red earth oils
and ***,
and with them
draw me a nuptial bath,

unbind the taupe soles
I have kept with the grace
of a concubine, sold
into the dark alcoves,
beyond the value of reticence,
you find me in rainstorms,
and wrap me in the flesh

and fabric of your hands,
behind silk walls,
with the ardour of Rapunzel's deliverance,
let down over the clavicles,
as fists unclench
in their exhaustion,

baby roses quiver this night, I keep
in pecan skin and votive eyes,
dip the Fahrenheit of your glance,
as it strays over my lips, your tongue
whips of mustard weeds,
seed your voice, sinks
into the garden's cleavage

as its lit pink tapers
spill their desperate midnights
and abandoned mornings,

ache under the arthritic, thick cedar
addictions to the milkflower
of a presence painted in clay glyphs,
stay the sinew and ******
of my body, a madrigal
upon our Indian Summer bed,

bled in a chorus of cicadas....

let the hymn be heard
over all these broken vows
and shattered pledges, speak
from the ruined marriage of flesh,
as I kneel in our earth,
in the sere, and seek in myself
that measure of peace, I know
is not there, without you,

to writhe in the throes
of exquisite anguish,

I give

my mouth in dream,
between your thighs
where the river runs fierce,
under the lithe sapling root
of my tongue, as it runs
the swift currents
and golden eddies
of inebriate skin, puckers
over the Inulin of the ****
and begins its swelling,
down the trellis of bones,
and the ******* of limbs
beneath the black monsoon
of the soul, as it perishes

in the engorged maw
of the split body, blades
of shoulders, soaked in the myrrh
of our rapture, fading
lifelines engraved on the back
of the hand you hold soft,
against me,

as my throat buries its moan
swallowed by your own, for solely
in you is it silenced, quelled
by the swells of song
you reign in the jugular
and soothe, a balm
for all my body, burning

its defiance, taken
to the limits of this,
our savage garden,
in the pilgrimage
to such lavish boundaries,
held abeyant, the cadence
of candles and solemn vows
sound the rhythm of our slow deaths,
writ in the lush psalm of the handsome earth,

our love, engulfed
in the wells of a sole desire,
I give you this,
my body's silkwhite harvest of faith,
driven fast with nails

into the exquisite wrists of the Christflesh,
shivering under the furtive delirium
of these, our fevers,
severed from body to body: twain,
that is now one ardent sorrow of flesh,
this is my body,
this is my blood,

I have given,
vows to bind our words, my love,
to the vigilance of night, that lives
and dies with the fall and rise of you breath,
one muslin depth,
relinquished to the white earth,
over an eternity of deliverance...

— The End —