Circles spin in
Circles spin in
Circles.
Introspection like a drill
And my mind sinks beneath
Forever where
Depths speak of
Years gone by
Like rising smoke
And you made
The fire.
Thoughts perch on clouds,
Fall among the rain
Into speech with
Thunder and lightning.
Flames doused,
You exit stage right
For a moment.
Fluttering chaos
Holding floods at bay
Walls built as
Walls break and
Water wins.
You come with floods.
You are the
Brain filling flood
And my mind
Drinks it all until
There's nothing else.
Water.
You.
Is this madness?

internal, shed
life unlived
cells between myself and I
pieces of me and of you, if you had been
Wander in wonder at pain unfolding
Is this creation?
Am I Mother?

Burning softly, little ember
life unlived
holding you inbetween me and myself
warm little creatures, life before life
Am I creating?
Am I killing by not creating?

Am I Mother, barren and overflowing
Am I Father, sowing and reaping
I am Earth internal eternal
Galaxy, spawn from where humanity will not

Nutrients imbedded imbue imperfection
I forgot you were here, little ones
Lives unlived
Little ember growing and flowing
I will endure for the sake of possibilities
Little me little you little us
Lives to make
People we create
I am Mother

Rain, rain go away  I,ve had enough of
You today, you met your friends near
The river bank and thought it would be
Fun to come up and give me a wave.
  
As you fell and friends did follow, you
Invited yourselves in through my door.
  
As more did follow, a house party of
Wetness invited, once dry objects now
Soaked, ruined by the unclean that pushed
Their way though my letter box.

Not even knocking to ask to come into
My home, drenching my settee and my phone.
  
Rain, rain has come to stay, ruined my
Things now being thrown away.
  
I don,t mind a drip a sprinkle or down
Pour, but I don't think you again should
Come knocking at my door.

It’s my river,
Giving me the life
The sky is there on the other side,
Tears roll down from the sky
To my river
Feels the fathom
My river roars….
Bring tears like anything
The furious river breaks home,
Washes golden fields
Their dreams are shattered
……………
It’s the same river
This side is the heaven
We enjoy the beautifully setting sun
Searching out poems of life
Picnics, outing, retiring life,
Smiles, laughter and everything….
But
The sky on the other side,
It remains gloomy
May it be Majuli or Dhemaji
Dreams go away forever with the river
I cry for those dreams,
Curse my river
The same river…
That gives me life,
It’s my river still
And will always be!!

The rain pours
And pours
The roads flood
The ground turns to mush

And yet I spend my day
Not in the rain
Not in the lost thought of sadness
Not in the fear of death

But in the thought of you.

-r.y.s

Oh Allyn what
a state we're in.
how every drip and
gush is owed you.
eddies rushing,
overflowed
with water new,
are carving paths
through, yearning
just to wildly run
the banks as you do.
rolling boulders,
sounding like a
sunken drum too,
pounding down
by roiling fathoms,
all as one you wait
for none, and on
forever you
continue.

Dreams like tissue paper
Mornings like flash floods
Stealing away mind crafted worlds
With a sun shining torrent
Of splinters and mud

In the sheets of my bed,
I can’t seem to get up.
I am being held there
against my will
as I am flooded
with cravings of you.
I wonder if you will ever be able to satisfy
this continuous hunger.

Rain. A flood. Rain a flood that will carry me away. That it will drown my emotion that floods my soul. Drown me so that when I breathe it floods me. Hold me under. Submerge me. Engulf me. Gently. Like a shower. Feel it slowly glide down my body almost as if a tickle. A sensation. A seduction. A caress upon my skin. Then...when I am at ease...strike me. Strangle me. Like hands around my neck, take me in one full ****. Take me under. Purge my soul. Then spill out of me. Violently. Forcefully. Cleanse me. Expel from my body. Let me breathe.

...air...

I remember the old back road I used to drive--
the one that connected my house to yours
with the abrupt boom of green mountainside, fog
clinging in patches above the evergreen

awning, and the old pine reaching far higher
than the rest--a monument to the trees
growing steady in your eyes. I haven’t
forgotten how your irises, only saplings,

drowned in the flood of ‘06 as the Delaware
crawled over the bank and into your head.
I never knew what to make of your
ripple-warped, water-stained fears crashing

rampant as the broken **** that swallowed
Church Street. They reminded me of tangled thorns,
my fingers scarred from moonlit attempts to smooth
needle-edged guilt as you repeated to me:

I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault, I should have known.
You told me how you knew I would, too, wash away--
that’s just what people did after floods.