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Moth May 2020
wind screams at the door
thunder crashes down hollow halls
hide under the bed
Prompt 22: Imagine Weather Indoors. My brain immediately goes to an abusive home of screaming matches like thunderstorms.
Lyner Mar 2020
Pit, pat, pitter-tat
The rain drums on my roof
Thunder, a distant drum
Booms, slams, crashes
A distant cacophony
Accompanied by birdsong
Splish-splash, titter, laugh
Children play in puddles
As innocent as a puppy in my lap
The storm passes
And the sun blazes again
Kitt Dec 2019
The rain came down,
and it keeps coming down,
so nourishing to the parched earth
yet so gloomy and low. It fits the mood.
An event that must happen, for the world to survive
But that, in the moment, only feels like a dreary moodsetter on a blustery day.
It isn’t too dark out. Despite the rain coming down in torrents, it’s still bright.
As I drive along the highway I see that rays of
sunshine are poking out from behind the clouds, and I think that,
somewhere along the distance, from the right vantage, where the brilliant sun rays
hit the storm droplets at just the right angle, there might be a rainbow
Just too far gone down the road for me to see it.
Henry Bladon Sep 2019
first makes me
imagine a poem
that talks about
an ink-stained sky
and brooding clouds
and chilling air,
all of which
can be taken as
ominous signs of
impending doom;  
but that can be bad
so instead lie still
and listen to the
comforting melody
the rainstorm plays on
my old tin roof
Mythical May 2019
Rain clouds flooding the sky,
Mother Nature ready to cry,
A storm of unhappiness unleashed.

All her of her feelings multiply,
Piled all into one,
Months of sorrow catching up..

While everyone is shunning her out,
We're not hearing her wishes,
She's just pouring over our heads..

Sung a song of untold,
Tears rolling down the trees,
Flowers smells slowly decrease..

How can we let this happen?
She had given us air to breathe,
A gift to explore living things..

All crumbling down into flames,
Burning and turning into ashes,
A graveyard of beautiful tombs..

Mother Nature isn't happy,
Killing all things with her power,
Hurricanes are stronger than ever,
Maybe she's just PMSing?
I wanted to model my life after a rainstorm:

To embody the excitement and freshness and screaming vitality
of a torrential rain on a hot summer day
To show off my clouds and shout out with thunder
My worries and sorrows, my failures and fears.
To laugh and cry and run and shriek
With windstorms and hailstorms and post-summer sleet.

But most of all,
I wanted to flash through people's lives like lightning
So, so bright and unexpected and beautiful and alive
That they held their breath and scanned the skies
For just one more crackle of energy and excitement
That makes them question their mundane grey lives.

If nothing else, I'll be petrichor
The soft, sweet reminder of new life to come.
That puts a smile on people's faces
As they, for once, stop, and breathe,
And remember that
They, too,
Colm Oct 2018
Granola pattering between my teeth.

Rain crunching beneath my feet.

Wait a minute...

Was that what it ought to be?
Quietly mind you. Not the rain. Me.
Mae Oct 2018
I like how the air smells just before it rains. I like how it turns cold and dark. It makes you want to snuggle more in your bed. I like how the lightning strikes from a distant. Its deep rumbles comfort me and the light it gives is just so beautiful. I like how any mellow music goes with the whole thing just before it rains. It turns the whole song into another level. I like how quiet the whole area goes. It gives you peace and it makes you relax after a long tiring day.

Then the rain will come. Slowly, like it’s unsure if it’s okay just to pour it all out... I like rains. Sometimes it makes me wish for the storm to never end. Its like my whole entire being, baring its soul to the world, the way I couldn’t do it.
svdgrl Aug 2018
I couldn't tell you at the time.
You were trying hard to drive.
The rain made our vision mauve,
but somehow you got me home, safe.
You are always, the sweetest thing.
Even when its bright and early,
and you're at your crankiest, you try
to remind me how much I'm
the one you hate the least.
But eventually, you might.

I couldn't tell you at the time,
we were listening to Frank.
The rain invaded every line,
but I sang to it the same.
And when it became severe,
you held my fingers and you steered.
We looked closer than eyelids,
Center console, kept us divided,
You told me it'd be alright.
while we listened to "Nights."
pri Aug 2018
our love doesn’t exist.
but i can tell you about our love.

our love is like gold dust in a miner’s pan,
soft and glimmering, sparkes lost in the world,
thrown haphazardly across the sky.

our love is warm like a summer evening and gentle like the cool breeze you feel when you
fly on playground swings.

our love is that pent-up feeling before a rainstorm,
charged air and a sense of something to come.

our love is like the rainstorm,
soft and loud and enriching.
it’s in the air i breathe, and i’d breathe it all the time.

our love is like blueberries in a red wagon
-aesthetic, cold and sweet.
i taste every time i encounter you.

our love is the curious look on girl’s face,
awkward and longing to know,
to accept this feeling.

the feeling that doesn’t exist.
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