It begins with the ominous clouds that roil and billow over the sky. Then they darken: Soft whites... Seductive greys... All the way to the purple black that haunts the skies on the cusp of a winter night.
The smell that follows this sinister nebula of vapor hanging over your head is that of life bringing relief. The smell of dry earth mingling with that of the fresh water above reminds one of summer breezes, freedom and relaxation.
The cool but warm drops of moisture start gently stroking your shoulders and arms. The strength increases, forcing you to squint as you take in the beautiful composition of nature above.
Soon you're covering your head as the rain pelts down and you race for shelter. The puddles appearing on the floor disrupted by the matter consistently falling into them.
You peer into the world, completely changed, as you visibility decreases and smile, the metallic twangs to the rain hitting the patio roof fill your ears and soul with its rhythm and music.
About someone trapped in a hospital, stressed of the outcome of a loved one and with all the sounds around them they struggle to think straight untill they hear the cries of other people .. scared that they might share the same fait
It's talking to me Knocking on my window pane Pitter patter Louder and louder I open up my window Letting the screen divide us She's mad I tell you With her heavy sighs and opened eyes She's got a crock her voice Like the ***** of a ball against a bat She's showing symbolic signs Simply showing me symptoms of depression and oppression Full of miss connections and rejections She's rumbling grounds and shaking leaves off of trees As soon as kablam Those trees split in threes Birds forget where to be But she doesn't care Cause she's talking to me I can tell she's got dead weight on her shoulders Fully forgetting what she told us You can see it in her grey puffy eyes the anger and frustration As tears fall down and leave stains on the pavement Her heavy sighs are leaving street signs asking why With the branching on trees fighting back for mercy All the cars screaming as the swerve against her Fighting cause they wish they were her “And the flag was still there” I don't understand why she's so upset I just know she's going neck to neck With all of her haters Inventions designed to enslave her Yet I decide to open my window That just lets her know She's got someone to vent to Tell the truth to She whispers when I sleep And I listen while she weeps It's sad she only comes out to vent Maybe she's heaven sent God sending a reminder of the promise he meant Rainbows come out when she's done with her confession To remind me of her lessons
I poeticize, proselytize Punctuate and pontificate. I write couplets and rhymes And I really do it all the time. I exacerbate and exaggerate With no desire to intimidate. I make similes and metaphors Indoors and even out of doors.
There’s cussing and discussion And sharp literary impressions Through diversions, conversions Allusions as well as conclusions. And with luck, no delusions. Just syllabically deft fusions Of some deferential references With a deft touch of reverence.
I rhyme thyme with fresh lime And cardamom with cinnamon. Sweetbreads and shortbreads. Chicken bones and licking scones. Rhyming pumpkins with dumplings And matching up filets with filberts Just as cocoa goes well with Kona. Marmalade can be a good marinade.
I rhyme chrome wheels and automobiles, Freeway off-ramps and Tiffany lamps. Cellophane and vintage airplanes. Flapper vamps and streetwalking tramps. Also Cinderella coaches and cockroaches, Nothing is unfair game to a busy poet. As well as RCA Victors and boa constrictors. Since I’m a poet, everyone should know it.