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            The                             arrival            
        of                          monsoon,
sprouting        begins
on parched,
on the

Shape of sprout roughly made
The window panes are
grey and trickling with raindrops.
They race one another, falling into
a downward spiral.
Some meet halfway, kiss and
drip quietly.
My bones are held together
with iced coffee and cigarettes.
My skin is the color of summer
gold and lust,
My eyes are deep in wonder
swimming with the face of
a boy I can barely remember meeting.
He's not a boy; a man in his element
the son of the sea
and his tattooed arms have
clutched the remains of my ever growing
heart and mind.
This is not love
No one can love me,
I am rain and thunder, the daughter of the air and the sea.
I am wind and glaring sunlight, the warrior of fire and dusk.
But he came gliding in
like a wolf in the night.
His yellow eyes, those ******* eyes
I see them in between my legs.
Moaning your name is my only recluse
My only refuge in the deepest, darkest
most pornographic areas of this,
multifaceted diamond of a mind.

I hate what you've done to me,
your rough hands on my

Just **** me, **** me and use me
while the thunder roars
and the raindrops race each other
and kiss me, bruise my petal lips
with your Marlboro tinted ones
until we're out of breath,
until we're drained.

One night isn't enough,
monsoon season.
Sparrow Mar 30
I am usually an amnesiac
Which is why there is always
cheap stationery in my pockets

- "An inexpensive set from Faber-Castell"

I look to my scribbles when I'm lost
unless an unexpected shower
has been tasked to ruin them

- "Pages stuck together, smudged and stained"

Three monsoons have come and went
I don't carry an umbrella or run for cover anymore
I stand in the middle of the downpour, drenched
But I guess some inks are just too hard to wash away
Use the sharpie on the whiteboard at your own peril, fans of irony.
It is raining again today
Everything is wet
Everything is heavy
Sun has vanished in the gray sky
Everything is murky
But no one else is bothered by it because
The monsoon resides in me.
Perhaps not all clouds have a silver lining.
Saurabh Trikha Dec 2018
As the sun soars high in the sky and the tarmac shimmers in the heat.
I walk along on a grassy patch, with my headphones attach.
My throat has gone dry, mumbling to the beat.
I have nothing but a bottle, which is half empty.
My feet they never stop, because I’ve got some stress to cope.
The trees, they give me shade.
Our shadows becoming one as I stroll past them.
The dogs pretending to be brave, until I reach out,
its the care they crave.
Leaves fall down to the earth, yellowish blade
some curling through in the wind, others gently floating

I look on to the horizon, where the hills meet the heavens
and soon realize its all going to change in a matter of hours.
The glimmer of thunder at the distance does not reach my ears yet,
but the cool breeze reassures me of whats going to happen next.
As the blue of the sky turns to grey, I ask myself
should I turn back home, or is it time to play?
I have decided and so have the birds, as they flock together the greet the showers first.
The magic when a single drop of water hits the dirt, and the aroma fills you to the core.
“Petrichor!!” been ages if I recall.
Despite being drenched from head to toe, and whether my mobile is going to work fine or no.
The rain has mesmerized me completely, even though being a brief respite.

Well its a rainy day, the first of many more to come, i pray.
wrote this last year, during the first spell of monsoon!! hope you like it.
K Balachandran Nov 2018
Lightning sets fire,
Thunderclaps rattle dark clouds;
Rainstorm declares war!
K Balachandran Aug 2018
Death comes water clad,
Distruction’s own water waves;
Monsoon’s killer rush!
Kerala reels in flood havoc that destroy habitats, **** people..obliterate homes!
Ashish Adhikari Aug 2018
Monsoon is beautiful. Rainstorm, thunder, lighting, all of it going at once.
You also have a lot of things going on in your mind.

People love monsoon. Why won't they love you?
We can always find a reason to love.
Lunar Jul 2018
drops of rain dripping down
my window pane.
no matter how fast they fall,
they never seem to finish.
i wait, slowly and painfully.
i look again at my reflection
on the window.
those aren't raindrops.
now, for whom are these tears?
monsoon season is in, once again. i'm feeling many emotions, twice too many. i think raindrops are equal to the bits of falling sand in an hourglass.

Ram Pradhan Jun 2018
The skies are leaden, with cooling breeze all over,
it is in the afternoon and I find the birds hover.
There is respite,
busyness of life despite.
It is monsoon my friend, coming with its full vigour.
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