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Dailynn Green Apr 2019
Wondering how the drought began
Missing every drop that shall fall again
Oh, how I wonder how the music will end
Missing you as the drought created its sins

Water from the sky are just like my eyes
May it storm time and time again
Wondering tremendously how it started
Our Gods laughing and crying
Making tears and water fall from the emotional love
Love the break, Love the bond, Love the hurt, and you shall love again
Making it continue within

Wondering how the drought began
Missing every drop that shall fall again
Oh, how I wonder how the music will end
Missing you as the drought created its sins

Why do you think the water stopped?
Like my heart began to rot
Why might you ask?
Just look upon the past
The pain, the trust, and the loyalty burned to rust
One touch could settle your end
Woah, the gutsy feeling of the sins
Going through your head saying it’s okay

Wondering how the drought began
Missing every drop that shall fall again
Oh, how I wonder how the music will end
Missing you as the drought created its sins

Wonderous feelings from looking at you
Who would've thought the treacherous person you truly are?
Imagining light and day but getting something cruel
Boy, I was fooled when looking at your beauty
True colors appeared and saw what appealed to my eyes
Desires for shape, style, and popularity
Which lead to the blindness within me
For my heart to be bleeding
The struggles are finally beginning
As soon as I bat an eye at a girl
My heart ups and twirls
A mystery to love, I'll say
All the problems can never be delayed but ignored
Hiding under the endless storm
Believing it's scary to move
Struck like my feet been glued down
Just really afraid to let a single drop fall
Scared to step out and let the tears fall
Splat, splat, and splat again as I hear from drippy sky
A dream it might be that it will pour
That drought hasn't started to pour
With my mouth closed and eyes open

Wondering how the drought began
Missing every drop that shall fall again
Oh, how I wonder how the music will end
Missing you as the drought created its sins

Craving the water as the powers awaken
My heart shimmer shaking as I’m waiting
Will you notice or will you continue?
This drought began because of your issues
Wondrous desire that you and I will stand in the rain once again
That you and I will get to stay together till the end
But those are dreams deployed from the Gods
Maybe one day I’ll have a shot at something
Wondering on how the rain will start
Will those laughs every depart and cries every pour?
Dailynn Green Apr 2019
Wondering how the drought began
Missing every drop that shall fall again
Oh, how I wonder how the music will end
Missing you as the drought created its sins

Water from the sky are just like my eyes
May it storm time and time again
Wondering tremendously how it started
Our Gods laughing and crying
Making tears and water fall from the emotional love
Love the break, Love the bond, Love the hurt, and you shall love again
Making it continue within

Wondering how the drought began
Missing every drop that shall fall again
Oh, how I wonder how the music will end
Missing you as the drought created its sins

Why do you think the water stopped?
Like my heart began to rot
Why might you ask?
Just look upon the past
The pain, the trust, and the loyalty burned to rust
One touch could settle your end
Woah, the gutsy feeling of the sins
Going through your head saying it’s okay

Wondering how the drought began
Missing every drop that shall fall again
Oh, how I wonder how the music will end
Missing you as the drought created its sins

Wonderous feelings from looking at you
Who would've thought the treacherous person you truly are?
Imagining light and day but getting something cruel
Boy, I was fooled when looking at your beauty
True colors appeared and saw what appealed to my eyes
Desires for shape, style, and popularity
Which lead to the blindness within me
For my heart to be bleeding
The struggles are finally beginning
As soon as I bat an eye at a girl
My heart ups and twirls
A mystery to love, I'll say
All the problems can never be delayed but ignored
Hiding under the endless storm
Believing it's scary to move
Struck like my feet been glued down
Just really afraid to let a single drop fall
Scared to step out and let the tears fall
Splat, splat, and splat again as I hear from drippy sky
A dream it might be that it will pour
That drought hasn't started to pour
With my mouth closed and eyes open

Wondering how the drought began
Missing every drop that shall fall again
Oh, how I wonder how the music will end
Missing you as the drought created its sins

Craving the water as the powers awaken
My heart shimmer shaking as I’m waiting
Will you notice or will you continue?
This drought began because of your issues
Wondrous desire that you and I will stand in the rain once again
That you and I will get to stay together till the end
But those are dreams deployed from the Gods
Maybe one day I’ll have a shot at something
Wondering on how the rain will start
Will those laughs every depart and cries every pour?
They said there was a drought water was short
not enough for domestic use.
At first declaring it was nobody's fault
it had not rained for a long time!
Committing an offence by using a hose pipe
truthfully was a load of tripe.

Water companies are making a financial killing
everyone encouraged not to waste water.
More fancy gadgets the public would be willing  
to buy water use multiplied.
As the buzz was building more on any land
telling us there was a demand!

Thousands of houses built was there a big need
statistics only the government held.
Groups tried protesting for it not to proceed
but fields were still built on.
Heavy rains came with more depleted drainage
so did the despair and rage.

A state of increasing taxes with nothing to show
more became classed as poor.
Communication with voters becoming very slow
the authorities had a strangle hold!
As the ban on a non existent drought dragged on
more doubters joined the throng!

Was there a danger of a growing national threat
from people against the elite.
Basking in luxury as the masses increasing in debt
the drought added more fuel.
Restrictions taking away their dignity it turned sour
there would be a defining hour.

Or is this just a modern nightmare tale?

The Foureyed Poet.
Knock Knock Jokes Aren't funny when There's nobody there.
Actually, Nothing is funny when no one's there to care.
when your sense of humor washes down the drain.
there's nothing left to feel but numbness and pain.
I'ts been an eternity since the landscape of my face has had this much rain.
My cheeks have been so dry.
I was self-taught not to cry.
I'm understanding now, why a drought was called The Great Depression.
Depression, Not a direction I want to go.
But you wouldn't know I'm there.
That's how it works, Depression.
You know, it goes so much deeper than a ****** expression.
It's not so much easy to hide it , as it is you get good at it.
But no matter how long-lived the drought,
What I would be more worried about,
Is the ground being so dry it's lost the ability to absorb the rain.
Have you ever seen it rain after a dry-spell?
the raindrops plop to the ground and swell on the surface, not soaking in.
I don't know where to begin,
They told me I'd feel better if I cried and "let it out"
But, I think they know, it  takes more than that to end a drought.

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
Moments Before Aug 2012
Is it considered a drought, if I'm thirsty for you?

Cascading angel who freely falls soft to rocks

Being that you are the only possible remedy for my parched lips...

Mother of all waters,
I keep praying for you, safety through the devils mountain.
purest and clairsentiant like crystals one scrys into for answers.
playing and bending light several which ways to entertain me.

Famine and debris am I,
to savor your dew would bring me rapture

Cascading goddess who falls with little to no fear

Not even a stream was I,
but I drew in your mist, hoarding it till I became prosperous

Oasis that you are,
much like a water sage to the mirage of my soul

You erode me and shape me like mud and clay.
you're limitless as a moist well, peaking on infinity.
oh, my tongue swells for your never ending glory.

Cast out of Heaven, you are all for me.
http://venezuelanindian.blogspot.com/2007/08/angel-falls.html
For my fiance'

Based Loosely on angel falls, mythology. What fascinating things I find.
Dhaye Margaux Mar 2015
It's summertime, the drought is here
Water seems gold,  I have this fear
My mind is blocked, going nowhere
Do hearts affect? Nothing is clear
Summer heat
Katzenberg Jul 2014
Inches below the surface, I can feel the sun just ahead, threating my lost consciousness and tearing my body apart.

The incandescent light pierces the ground, the mountains scream fire upon the sky, crackles in the ground appear beneath my feet. What a pitiful anxiety made of sand!

My body stretches, incoming dehydration, thirst and isolation; motherly desert, fatherly wastelands...

Let me burn down to ashes and ******* to the wind.
Make me feel uncomfortable and let me disappear in peace.

I can feel the drought claiming my pain, gathering the dust that used to be my skin and remain in solitude, just like a snail then I find myself stuck in the nonchalant rage of the day.

There is nothing alive, there is just an infinite ruin of land, dead soil and dying lives turn into stone by act of time.
blackbiird Jan 2019
I watched you water my petals
Soaking my roots with your love
But then the drought came
And you left me thirsty.

My petals wilting away
From your abandonment.
And I watched as my soul died
In the lonely drought.
seethroughme Oct 2009
your eyes look bleached
as you stare
your glance running
along the puzzlecracks
into the dustfields
dancing on the
bone
dead
earth
seared and cauterised
no longer waiting
for rebirth
your eyes are bleached
with the eternal search
the agony of drought
Estherzz21 Aug 2015
Could water cease,
and so would drought?

Could love not exist,
and I survive?
Michael Bauer Mar 2015
they say we’re headed for a worldwide drought

a dystopia of dissolution and decline

forests turn to desert and the streams are running dry

brings a shiny tear to the Indian’s eye



they say we might not make it to the future

we’ll be chewed up and spit out by ourselves

the oceans crest the shore and the flood is upon

oh man please can you tell me now how long



they say we probably don’t have much longer

they say we should start living for today

but that’s the same road which we took to get here

and at this point there’s nothing that i fear



they say we’re headed for a worldwide drought

fields turning to dust and cities filthy and roasting

chemicals and bacteria overwhelming shrinking waterways

famine, illness, war and malaise



they say we’re headed for a worldwide drought

but from where i’m sitting everything is fine

the sprinkler spits crystals on the morning lawn

they glisten in the sun then move on



**originally posted on my poetry blog at https://sublimeobscenities.wordpress.com/ on August 31, 2014
He was the ocean; handsome, but yet, Impulsively damaged. He had a sandy heart to correspond his sandy eyes, the moon dismantled that omitted pride he carried at a dead weight; shoveling and reshaping it, so people would see a sandcastle statue assembled in strength. But his washed-up soul and unannounced insecurities were aware of its genuine purpose,
this beach alongside his pupils;
quicksand, he'll sink so slowly in.  Waves in his hair like ripples on his cheeks, skipping stones land at his defeat, he left notes in bottles for you, sank multiple ships for you, because he hasn't the heart to say he's desiccating with the arrival of the stars.. Retracting scars are not too far from gasps for air,  foaming words of crisis by writing in the sand, signaling a light as the last one in him died. You wouldn't understand, the calm before the storm, as valve after valve puncture him. So intoxicating as it drains him, and from within, he's drying out. Sunburns stain him, a smile restrains him,
in an inescapable drought--
All feedback is welcome
So this was posted here a couple weeks ago and, when I went to revise it, it was drafted and came out as new, I guess? :)
Jade Sep 2015
By the bus stop
By the lake
By the curb beside my leg
In the sun
Or in the rain
In the cold
I'm shivering in
Wait wait wait wait
Waiting for the falling rain
In a drought has never been
I am atoning for my sin
Wait wait wait wait
Waiting for the flowers to bloom
In a winter storm has never been
I am barely holding it in
Wait wait wait wait
For the love of god
My soul to take
I cannot run from my fate
If it is to waste away while I wait
Erin Jean Aug 2014
here in this land the rain will not fall
the clouds pass us thoughtlessly
we wait and wait for rain endlessly
Morgan Nov 2013
he wasn’t just an other ship that sank in my sea
he was the drought that left the whole thing empty
ryn Nov 2015
.
•my
arms point
to the sky•
a gesture
                           frozen in                 eter-
                                 nity•un-                fazed as
                                   the clouds                whisper a
        lie•                 rumours of                 rain that
  never               came quickly•            prickles
protrude             menacingly            •threaten-
ing all who          would stray         too close•      
baseless            gossip that   masquerade    
as pleasant-   ry•to deviate me from      
the path i chose•still i stand            
here...duelling the sun          
•in a land scorched            
barren•search-  
ing for hope
when there's 
really none•
here i stand...
lonely and
drought
stricken•
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
­••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
.
Concrete Poem 11 of 30

Tap on the hashtag "30daysofconcrete" below to view more offerings in the series. :)
.
That time of drought the embered air
burned to the roots of timber and grass.
The crackling lime-scrub would not bear
and Mooni Creek was sand that year.
The dingo's cry was strange to hear.

I heard the dingoes cry
in the scrub on the Thirty-mile Dry.
I saw the wedgetail take his fill
perching on the seething skull.
I saw the eel wither where he curled
in the last blood-drop of a spent world.

I heard the bone whisper in the hide
of the big red horse that lay where he died.
Prop that horse up, make him stand,
hoofs turned down in the bitter sand
make him stand at the gate of the Thirty-mile Dry.
Turn this way and you will die-
and strange and loud was the dingoes' cry.
Umi Apr 2018
The desert,
A sea of sand, drought and dry air under a scorching, blazing Sun,
The wind may feel alike a cut, which burns through your senses,
Relentless, the heat takes over by day, yet by night it is cold enough to freeze you if you come unprepared. Such would be a foolish idea,
A dessert of thoughts, driving into my brain, leaving ideas uncovered
Leaving productivity hidden, under the sand of hatred and self doubt
Such places, landscapes, covered by firy silicate or ice are truly lethal,
Such state of mind, covered by uncertainty is truly lethal, for ones wonderful creativity, for art of all kind, conveyed or material, if you might wander through such a land without any guide to help out,
Worry not, for after every drought comes rain, blissful rain to fertilise the soil of thoughts which will blossom in wonderous ways, to shine,
After all, motion without movement cannot be possible so try to move
A wise friend once tought me, that if you give it enough time, even a nigh impossibility becomes a certainty, even a desert could be a forest
But until then, be patient my dear, even the most deserted place, carries some beauty in it, no ?

~ Umi
Marion Clarke Apr 2014
Paper thin top soil
Cracks seep through
Red dirt.
Bloodless gashes
Simmering summer soil
Baked turf.
Rolled gold haze
Aches as the
Country stretches its skin-
Near breaks
******* teeth
******* itches
Red earth fit-
              To burst in a
Dark cloud of dust,
Choking soft as to soak
The moisture fresh
From your lungs.

Blinding blue sky
Set for worship
On a tall horizon
Too far, too high
For common souls-
                  To float on a      
Breath of sweet dry air,
Eternal journey to sunset
Small piece of a dream
To chase a grey cloud
From sky to west.

Where subterranean
Creeks used to slip by
Rise in a ***** of land
Where water once carved
                          Its roam
Now the winds sweep
All traces away
Back toward the sea,
And fair beyond
The aching dry eyes
Of the sons of
This red earth,
A mist lies awake
And prays for rain.
Tadashi Pinder Apr 2016
Bridges burn and hearts left behind on those bridges burn eternally causing a droughtful soul.
It's a realm where tears can't fall with out freezing & frost covers messages for help, such a doubtful cold.
We enter a drought and what a drought that is.
When you thought she was the one, when you though you were his.
Maybe God showed favor to me because he knows just how badly my scarrs have ached for no reason.
I sent prayers up not asking for much, just some help maybe, instead he sent me an angel to help me fight my demons.
Happened so swiftly, I can't even replay it, she descended down in a sizzling flash.
Because I fear she could be gone just as fast I take pictures every time she's around just to make the visual last.
None the less one of my greatest blessings came after my darkest night & im here to tell you it won't always be bad like you might think.
You're in that drought with your eyes wide open, stop looking. Sometimes the blessings just appear once you decide to blink.
Eddie Matikiti Jan 2019
As brutal as a desert drought!
Baren lands, hungry crops and starving mouths.
31 days seems like 62.
A neverending nightmare.
It is a marauding scavenger.
Devouring all that cross its path.

It starts off good with a lot of hope.
Before reality dawns and the struggle begins.
Each new day we limp forward.
Ace Malarky Jun 2013
the strain of labor
the pain of toil
the ache of legs and arms
the sweating brow
drudging farmer curse the soil
mutely chide the milkless cow

the demon waits for no man.
he rages forth
renders furrows charred
the fields so dry
the rocky ground so hard
does Famine truly want this to be so?
find him, ask him,
else we never know.




--Ace
Kayla Jennings May 2012
I was never Momma's little angel

Or Daddy's little girl

I was always the one

Whose hair would never curl

Never very beautiful, never very smart

But always wishing for something better

Somewhere in my heart

Different person, different place

Leave my fears behind, my past erased

Leave this place of solitude, leave this place of doubt

Healing rain fall from the skies

And heal my heart's eternal drought
Boi Jul 2018
Roses want blood,
delicacy, and
grace.

Flowers want life,
Love, and
care.

Doomed are those
who treat their roses
as if flowers
bleeding
until drought

Long live those
who treat their flowers
as if roses
giving
until downpour
know your botany
patty m Apr 2016
the tumbleweeds roll
past my wilted flower beds
the cactus stands tall

huge raindrops falling
on fields of thirsty flowers
patter through my dreams

untouched by drought
a valley of red roses
in a glitter globe

just the other night
the dry pond in the pasture
blew over the barn
Part I

It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
‘By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?

The bridegroom’s doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
Mayst hear the merry din.’

He holds him with his skinny hand,
“There was a ship,” quoth he.
‘Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!’
Eftsoons his hand dropped he.

He holds him with his glittering eye—
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years’ child:
The Mariner hath his will.

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

“The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.

The sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon—”
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.

The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

“And now the storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o’ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.

With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And foward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled.

And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken—
The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!

At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God’s name.

It ate the food it ne’er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through!

And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariner’s hollo!

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white moonshine.”

‘God save thee, ancient Mariner,
From the fiends that plague thee thus!—
Why look’st thou so?’—”With my crossbow
I shot the Albatross.”

Part II

“The sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.

And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariners’ hollo!

And I had done a hellish thing,
And it would work ’em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!

Nor dim nor red, like God’s own head,
The glorious sun uprist:
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist.
’Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.

Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped down,
’Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!

All in a hot and copper sky,
The ****** sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.

About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch’s oils,
Burnt green, and blue, and white.

And some in dreams assured were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.

And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.

Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.”

Part III

“There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye—
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.

At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist;
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could nor laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I ****** the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.

See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel!

The western wave was all a-flame,
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the sun.

And straight the sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven’s Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
With broad and burning face.

Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the sun,
Like restless gossameres?

Are those her ribs through which the sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a Death? and are there two?
Is Death that Woman’s mate?

Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she,
Who thicks man’s blood with cold.

The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
‘The game is done! I’ve won! I’ve won!’
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

The sun’s rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper o’er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.

We listened and looked sideways up!
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seemed to sip!
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steersman’s face by his lamp gleamed white;
From the sails the dew did drip—
Till clomb above the eastern bar
The horned moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.

One after one, by the star-dogged moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.

Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.

The souls did from their bodies fly,—
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul it passed me by,
Like the whizz of my crossbow!”

Part IV

‘I fear thee, ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.

I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so brown.’—
“Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!
This body dropped not down.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie;
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.

I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.

I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came and made
My heart as dry as dust.

I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And the ***** like pulses beat;
Forthe sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky,
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.

The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.

An orphan’s curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man’s eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.

The moving moon went up the sky,
And no where did abide:
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside—

Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
Like April ****-frost spread;
But where the ship’s huge shadow lay,
The charmed water burnt alway
A still and awful red.

Beyond the shadow of the ship
I watched the water-snakes:
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.

Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.

O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.

The selfsame moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.”

Part V

“Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from heaven,
That slid into my soul.

The silly buckets on the deck,
That had so long remained,
I dreamt that they were filled with dew;
And when I awoke, it rained.

My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
My garments all were dank;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
And still my body drank.

I moved, and could not feel my limbs:
I was so light—almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blessed ghost.

And soon I heard a roaring wind:
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails,
That were so thin and sere.

The upper air burst into life!
And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
To and fro they were hurried about!
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced between.

And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh like sedge;
And the rain poured down from one black cloud;
The moon was at its edge.

The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.

The loud wind never reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the moon
The dead men gave a groan.

They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
It had been strange, even in a dream,
To have seen those dead men rise.

The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up blew;
The mariners all ‘gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do;
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools—
We were a ghastly crew.

The body of my brother’s son
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope,
But he said nought to me.”

‘I fear thee, ancient Mariner!’
“Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!
’Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blest:

For when it dawned—they dropped their arms,
And clustered round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies passed.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the skylark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!

And now ’twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel’s song,
That makes the heavens be mute.

It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe;
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.

Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,
The spirit slid: and it was he
That made the ship to go.
The sails at noon left off their tune,
And the ship stood still also.

The sun, right up above the mast,
Had fixed her to the ocean:
But in a minute she ‘gan stir,
With a short uneasy motion—
Backwards and forwards half her length
With a short uneasy motion.

Then like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound:
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.

How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two voices in the air.

‘Is it he?’ quoth one, ‘Is this the man?
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low
The harmless Albatross.

The spirit who bideth by himself
In the land of mist and snow,
He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow.’

The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew:
Quoth he, ‘The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.’

Part VI

First Voice

But tell me, tell me! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing—
What makes that ship drive on so fast?
What is the ocean doing?

Second Voice

Still as a slave before his lord,
The ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the moon is cast—

If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him.

First Voice

But why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?

Second Voice

The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.

Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!
Or we shall be belated:
For slow and slow that ship will go,
When the Mariner’s trance is abated.

“I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather:
’Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;
The dead men stood together.

All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the moon did glitter.

The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away:
I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.

And now this spell was snapped: once more
I viewed the ocean green,
And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen—

Like one that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring—
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze—
On me alone it blew.

Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
The lighthouse top I see?
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own country?

We drifted o’er the harbour-bar,
And I with sobs did pray—
O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway.

The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn!
And on the bay the moonlight lay,
And the shadow of the moon.

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.

And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.

A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turned my eyes upon the deck—
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And, by the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.

This seraph-band, each waved his hand:
It was a heavenly sight!
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light;

This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart—
No voice; but oh! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.

But soon I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the Pilot’s cheer;
My head was turned perforce away,
And I saw a boat appear.

The Pilot and the Pilot’s boy,
I heard them coming fast:
Dear Lord i
Chuck Jul 2013
Lightning cracks and thunder shrieks with great fright
The rains pour down with penetrating pain
Type o' storm that keeps Noah up at night
Tides flood streets like an angry berserk train
Still the albatross is yet to take flight
Outside thunder, lightning, and floods in vain
For in my heart lurks deserts, lonely drought
Will these rains quench my thirst? My heart has doubt
Ottava Rima is an 8 line stanza in Iambic Pentameter with a rhyme scheme of abababcc.
Cameron Godfrey Oct 2012
I'm so many things
But I want to be more
So much more important
Than an oxygen *****.

The air that I waste
The time that runs out
For I'm hogging the world
In an oxygen drought.
George Krokos Nov 2013
The drought has broken and we’re getting some rain
it’s so good to know that we’re in favour once again.
The land was parched and everything on it dying of thirst
‘cause it took such a long time coming for the rain to burst.

The Lord of nature must have heard our prayers
and granted us some reprieve from death’s cares.
Though it seems as if there’s still a long way yet to go
the immediate and pressing danger is over we know.

Many areas around and people suffered due to the lack of rain
it was getting to be such a huge emotional and financial strain.
We can only sincerely hope now that it will put things right,
so that we can all get on with our lives and reverse the blight.

One can only but wonder at the cause of the drought now
whether in fact we contributed to the hardship somehow.
We know that certain actions produce undesirable effects
when ignorance is so widespread no difficulty man detects.

In fact whatever is carelessly thought, said and done takes its toll
and causes an adverse reaction in nature which then plays a role.
This is the unfortunate legacy that most people find very hard to respect
because it limits their false sense of freedom they’ve all come to expect.
______________
Private Collection written in 2010. Most areas in Australia had gone through what has been called the 'worst drought in living memory' and the country is said to be one of the driest places on earth.
Chris Jul 2010
What brilliant baize of summer grasses
Sprung from the ochre sun-bleached passes
Imperial blades brushing and heaving
Glistening clustered fresh bright weaving
Pungent message, each leaf speaking
'Somewhere below, your drains are leaking'

_________________­__


Inspired by a real patch of grass that was growing remarkably well in the middle of a drought because it was being fertilised by the leaking drains in the soil below!
mochiu Nov 2014
She always wondered
    if loving you was wrong or right

These thoughts of you filled her head
     only on her darkest night

Like the ocean, you had stolen
     all her precious thoughts

Leaving her conscious
     in a mindless drought
Yara Jul 2014
Dark drapes fall on both sides

Heavy with the drought of sleepless nights

When the moon shone but did not shine

Through the windows that are stained to this day

I'd try rubbing the grit away

But the grains of sand have found their home

As have the lead in my heavy heart.
The windows are eyes
The drapes are the lids.
Figure out the rest.
Waters of love do not flow
Yellow grass ceases to grow
A drought that has gripped the heart
plants wait for the rain to start
coldness grips his tormented soul
ground burns like hot coals
in his mind nothing lives
a barren wasteland where nothing gives
George Krokos Dec 2010
Aborigines and kangaroos
boomerangs and didjeridoos.
Leafy gum tree branch and koala bear
black stump in the middle of nowhere.
Jolly swagman camped by a billabong
in 'Waltzing Matilda' a favourite song.
The wild brumbies roaming free in the outback
a scruffy hobo living alone in a country shack.
Aboriginal myths called their dreamtime
the native Australians regard as sublime.
Ring-tailed possum and wombat
aussie bloke wearing akubra hat.
Alice Springs and Ayers Rock
outback stations and livestock.
Ned Kelly bushranger and his law brushes
the Eureka stockade during the gold rushes.
Laughing kookaburra and old man emu
platypus swimming in underwater view.
Banjo Patterson’s poem ‘The Man from Snowy River’
who went riding down mountain side without a quiver.
Surfers paradise and the Great Barrier reef
sixties rock ‘n roll legend: Johnny O’Keefe.
Anzac marches and the land of the Southern cross
old Cobb & Co. stagecoach used to travel across.
Glorious summer sunshine and winter rains
severe country drought and the desert plains.
Eucalyptus scent and Tea-tree oil
good health remedies from the soil.
Fresh water yabbies and the witchety grub
all make good tucker in the bush or scrub.
Crocodiles in the Kakadu national park
Burrumundi and the great white shark.
Sydney harbour bridge and the Opera House
Daintree rain forest and the kangaroo mouse.
Sheep wool farming and old shearing sheds
Melbourne Cup horse race for thoroughbreds.
Riverboat cruising up and down the Murray
passing border country towns not in a hurry.
Cradle mountain and the Tasmanian Devil
saying ‘fair dinkum’ means it’s on the level.
AFL rules football and big crowds at the MCG
playing one day cricket there is exciting to see.
The Fitzroy Gardens and Captain Cook’s cottage
are there for all to see as symbols of our heritage.
The Twelve Apostles standing along a rugged stretch of coast
a Ninety-Mile beach is something about which we can also boast.
The Glass House mountains are a sight to see and even to climb
by those who consider themselves fit enough and in their prime.
The great Australian Bight and the road on the Nullarbor plain
is a great feat to drive across and be able to come back again.
The local native wild dog known by name as the Dingo
has nothing to do with a game people play called Bingo.
There’s also a game called two-up that some people play
by which they gamble most of their weeks wages away.
Luna Park in St.Kilda and the annual Royal Melbourne Show
are places where you can take the kids to have fun people know.
There’s the local pub where you can go and have a drink with your mates
and is what many do all day long having a few too many in all the States.
This great southern land of Australia has so much to see and to offer
it would be a ****** shame if one didn’t give a **** or was a scoffer.
_________
Private Collection - written in 2002
Umi Mar 2018
Growth prevaded by a soil of emotions, rain of memories engraving the seed for a flower awaiting to bloom, the gift of life in a moving motion of time, forming and structuring the inner beauty of one,
Over years the spring of this beauty blossoms depending on the deeds, deepest wishes such as kindness and intuitions majestically,
A righteous soul will truly stand proud in the sun, alike a helianthus,
A trecious persons flower will be dead, as if it was drought, burnt in the heat of summer, the sweet aroma of life will still fill the air,
Caught in endless change of a devils distorted, desperate working,
The servants have the chance to either change for the better or to be ruined in their transient existence, fading into the dust they came of,
Beauty cast in the heart remains forever with enough care and work,
So this flower shall never rot, as long as it is protected with a desire and will to do good, to be gentle and truthful, thoughtful and wise,
Compassion, greatness and deep loving concern are a fertilizer,
Spread this kindness and you may have planted the seed for another beautiful child of the earth; A precious flower

~ Umi
Rose Amberlyn Aug 2014
Are you familiar with the ache that grows in the heart?
The one where something was blooming long ago.
Feeling arms around you as you awoke from sleep,
hearing a voice in your ear, that you were supposed to keep?

But the ache isn't permanent, and you must wait it out.
This fateful era of being that some call,
a love drought.
d Jan 2015
I'm sorry I let go of your hand.
I'm sorry you saw me cry.
I'm bitter because you keep me warm without any fire
and because I'm still as clueless as ever.
I'm sorry I am a plant that sprouted in your heart and I'm sorry that I wilt when you forget to water me.
I'm as abandoned as a building or an old playground in a town full of adults and the rain doesn't calm me down anymore.
I guess I just needed you to know that because I'm pulling my petals off one by one.
I love me not. I love me not.
I'm wilting again and you're a drought who can describe the water.
M Solav Sep 2018
We were mixed up when it built;
One another forced to coexist.
As it drew us high and higher still,
Below us grew the abyss.

Overflowing with ecstasy,
We left our hearts astray.
The obnubilating and obsolete
Had gotten our way.

Obstacles vanished one by one,
Increasingly slaying the beast.
Moments we thought we'd won
Are when we'd won the least.

We stretched out our hands towards the sky
Like wretched ghosts wrapped in disguise,
As though we had just found a new paradise
With the devil ahead leading as our guide.

We followed him throughout the land:
"This way leads us to the great fountain",
And now we're stuck in a desert of sand
Wondering when oases shall be attained.

We've taken a bet against our nature.
Was it anyone-in-particular's fault?
"For every curse there'll be a cure,
For every flood there'll be a drought."

Once more, again, we shall repeat,
To morrow, and for ever more.
When the sunshine now seems to greet
And when the darkness falls,

Comes that nighttime of our lives;
We ponder what we've been,
But what we're we supposed to be
When the pact was always sealed.

So we wait in such anxiety,
The impatience growing itchy;
And we amass, tall in piles,
To crash onto the shores like the sea.
Written in August 2016.

— The End —