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SpiralDancer May 14
I got wet.

Then I got more wet.

Then I lost my keys.

And my shoes were filled with rain,

chattering teeth, soaked to my thighs

through to my skin

shrivelled up feet, trench foot set in

but then I think about real trench foot
and silently apologise to the poor sods
who died with wet feet

I cried when I peeled off my clothes

I felt sorry for myself

But the little un had made me a hot drink

So I thought myself lucky

I am not native to wet and cold

The sun is needed for us growin' old
When you've been rained on so much it feels like emotional damage!
Windshield wipers beat in my ears
Wish, whoosh, wish, whoosh...
Black clouds forming outside
My car tell the world to shush
For the storm is approaching
And the rain is going to swoosh
Me away if I am not careful.
Thoughts? I am experimenting with onomatopoeia.
Laura P Apr 26
No-one knows how fragile you are until you dance in the rain.
MSunspoken Feb 21
We caress the heavens together
In a trance

Lost in a sea of souls
I find you hard to miss
I can’t escape your pull

I flow
-not with the wind-
But with you
Bending air as I go

My whole eternity is you
A blue vastness
-too great to ignore-
From my perspective

I live for you
As there is nothing else
Quite as magnetic
-although, I’m trapped for sure-

My naivete may live on
Yet even I ponder
The slight trembling in my heart
Subconscious, or am I over?

There, a world spilling with ants
So small-
Yet visible with their feats of humanity
-I can see it so clearly now-

Where once there were only specs-
Now there lay a myriad of wonders
Right before me
-the haze clearing-

My confidence
often a victim of gravity-
So steady hands always pulled me up
Right on cloud nine

I no longer feel the softness of those palms-
Once my ever-aiding life
I have fallen out of your grasp

The wetness of tears
Staining my existence-
Yet clearing it all the same
I fall as the icy raindrops guide my demise

All hard and true-
I must accept my punishment
For I have lived on far too long
And know much too little

Seeping into reality-
I can feel every texture on my skin
Every imperfection on the ground
-forever taunting me-

Leaving the once continuous cycle-
Venturing into the unknown
Where-for once-
A seed may grow larger than a planter could ever provide

A wild flower-
Thriving in a sea of individuality
Forever smiling at the sky
Despite the abandonment
Although I let myself avoid the truth for years, I had to except it sometime.
Unfortunately, that happened much too late-
right when everything came crumbling down (much like a cloud-drained of it's rain).
Cyndi Feb 4
4 o' clock
My ride is late
No one to talk
So I stare through the gate.

Cirrus, nimbus, cumulus
Clouds soaring over me
Gliding, diving, flipping over us
Careless, seemingly

My head gets light,
My eyes are sleepy,
And in the sunlight
I doze off, dreaming.

And there, up in the sky
The warm sunlight hugs my skin
And there, I hear the cry
Of a stratus kin

Gliding down to meet her,
I'm greeted by a lonely,
Storming Cloud Girl
By herself; alone and hurting

She's got a hole in her chest
The sun pierces through the water vapor
She's raining, but trying her best
To stay afloat in this atmosphere

I wish I knew how to help her pain,
But I try to help her anyway
Because the hole inside my brain
Tells me that she will find a way

So I hug her gaseous torso tight,
And breathe a breath of condensation
Into her cavity, hoping it might
Help fill it up by evaporation

And suddenly, I'm falling
And I land back on the ground
I open up my weary eyes
To the sun, the sky, the sound

And while I might never see
The Cloud Girl outside of my dreams
I know that she'll make it, break free
From the world's depressing gravity

Soaring higher 'to the sky
Adding "Alto" to her "stratus"
Who knows how high she'll fly?
And then from there right up to Cirrus

Our punctured souls might be in kind
Or maybe to the sky I'm just projecting,
But I wish you peace of mind
'Cause I know you're worth ascending.
Wrote this for a friend. I wanted to help make her happy, because she was so nice and supportive and helpful to me, and I wanted to return that.
Brian Jan 15
I find myself in a storm
I knew where I was going
Yet I am surprised
That God is crying out
Water from his eyes
Me by myself
My worries and my fears
I knew where I was going
How did I still end up here?
Then I see the lights
The only offering of guidance
They keep me from going astray
Without them surely
The ditch is where I would lay
I've seen these lights before
In following my older brother
In the kind words of a friend
The proud teardrops of my mother
They were there all along
Showing me the way
Were it not for them
The ditch is where I would lay
Wrote this one night after driving home through a very bad thunderstorm. Hope you enjoy!
Mujen Jan 1
After a long time
they decided to meet,
after the sunset
as usual.
No display of affection
but with gentle etiquette
as usual.

But today the sky had gathered grey clouds,
and was raining outside.

They waved hands to each other and
secured their places to sit.
Adjusted themselves to the depth of comfort.

The conversation began
with the warmth of desperation.
They talked,
some romance.
They talked,
some friends.
At that moment the ambiance around got as blurred as lost.
And the time was flying.

that in-depth conversation,
They noticed,
they didn't look into eyes,
although nobody was hiding anything.
But still why?

The redolence of coffee and tea
represents them quietly.
They are different but together.

It was raining when they met
and decided to leave when it stops.

"The rain is stopped, and it’s time to..." you said.

"But the wind is still strong," I interrupted.
It is raining   and it is Christmas in L.A
the home       of paramount pictures  and the home        of skid row

Each drop multiples         heavy
like the narratives             given
to justify                             why
some deserve to be           out on the streets

on day like this when the water pours and seeps into their tents   bridges cannot hide or cover                         our collective apathy                           (shame) as we cross  
into the next decade    “i am not to blame
if he/ she / they            don’t have a home
what a shame.”
Bhill Oct 2019
I knew a worm who lost his way, boring and digging the earthen clay
He knew all along he could go where he chose, but lost his direction is what we suppose

Today, of course, was raining quite hard, he had to surface and let down his guard
He made the mistake of crawling too far and the end result is a bit bizarre

He ended up on the end of a hook, wet as hell as bait in the brook
It wasn't long before a fish can along and checked out the worm and sang him this song

Where oh where did you come from little worm
Are you lost and forgotten, and please, please don't squirm
You look very delightful I have to admit
I bet you are tasty, I think that's legit
If I eat you I fear, I may be unhappy
I have no control so let's make it snappy

You know the rest of the story....  

Brian Hill - 2019 # 259
Wrote this in a funny mood this morning but it took on a life meaning.  Who is the worm and who is the fish? Just asking.
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