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"rainless" poems
Dry winds of monsoon rainless Caress my little hair idly Fire crackers acrid painless Waft up quite widely The elements treat me fine Yes, they are all democratic Often verging on divine Tho’ folks call em lunatic Bother not, friends Folks are easily dumb That’s how it ends - Tom, **** and a thumb Tho’ nothing might augur well Keep being until groundswell
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Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
BUILDUP
ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ̀ˋ Bull frogs have no voice this rainless night, crickets are done with their song... no contentment reigns in this warm silence where human fears reverberate, in the still of this crazy summer month... t's a foggy scenario, for these health workers, they're white shadows witnessing silent struggles inside hospitals, outside houses, amidst crowds...even in places frequented by homeless people... white shadows know despair felt by the sick, separated from families and friends, white shadows know when anxiety and fright settle in the air...they feel when death is nigh... they conceal their worries, their fears, well behind their masks......yet, no one is invincible...........white shadows die, too. i strain my eyes...something flickers in this dark, navy night... "Come, fireflies... be with us, though briefly, in this moment of uncertainty......tonight, i see your shy, quivering dots of fire, braving the darkness...just like these selfless white shadows, struggling to overcome fear haunting their hearts, come fireflies... share your magical glow with them, may their faith and hope never wane, may this heavy fog melt, and fall like rain, may this plea stand strong...be not in vain." ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::: (it's hard not to write depressing poetry, when days and nights seem an eternity...) Sally ©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan    April 13, 2020
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Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 4:10 AM UTC
White Shadows
He plays a tune hand calloused and all. Face against the blue filled with malice Flashing a florescent blissful green Changing all so lightly still Leave him alone, sunset to sunrise Pondering birth to death. Crimes of our very own human dignity Imprisoned, for our clawing entity. Plays shadows beside this fluttering sail. A pale veil that will bring us no avail to bail; Light hearted the human soul is not. Weight within ignorance and defiance the mind is consumed by all reflection bland or complex, life has no attention. Stained glass windows, black widows Rainless mornings, and frivolous sermons Taken to the tortured girth of human doubt. We are lightless and stationary only to run. Along the shoreline, faith is not receding Only seldom visited. Replaced by the capture and rapture Of virtually tangible lights; News no longer plays homage to heart Rather lies rampaging the feeble apart. Pessimism parallels reality. Rendering sin’s originality. Our causes parallel pauses Making these changes in duality Deafening intrinsic viability, only to expunge identity. Looking back at the advertisements Across the widely boarded stilts Lit to view by admitting at will Driving forward looking back still
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Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 8:28 AM UTC
fretless guitar
King Kenny, Like God on Earth upon mat... Rising sun in his eyes for rainless morning, And superkick party, catered and cleaned. Technician of great finesse, Not living off technicality, We pay thanks to our savior For handing out the wrath.
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Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
The Cleaner.
rainless morning, awoken by comforting delicate taps on my window velvet curtains lifted and fragile opalescent feathers revealed the hummingbird sings songs for you and my heart flutters in time with the tune
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Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 12:36 AM UTC
hummingbird
if you had died before me, i would’ve found your family’s lot in the graveyard, worn my summer dress the one you didn’t know i put on just for you i would’ve put lilies on top your gravestone baby’s breath, pink peonies wild flowers in different sizes, pastel colors tied them together with a white bow just for you i would’ve sat beside you watched the giant clouds pass by in our idyllic, rainless afternoon the perfect kind of day when time stops just for you then when the sun said its goodbyes i’d have blown the candle out traced your name on the marble traced your name and left
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Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 2:18 PM UTC
an eternal sleep
Your eyes wrap around my heart and i miss you. i searched for the keys as i brushed the teeth of a black square that has ****** me in deep and i miss you. Your smile skips a beat tentatively and brightens a tear in my eyes and i miss you. i stumble along the rainless path that sings the nebulae's lullaby and I miss you. Your love waves over me such as the gravity that hit Newton and rips my ribcage where I keep those keys I was searching for and I miss you. The sun that is cracked and dry only clocks in when it wakes up in a present eternity at this moment only. and i miss you.
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Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
nebulae lullaby
Mother! When the world turn against you And call you ill-fated man Museum without Statues Darkness darker than Blindness Father! The Saddened Sun That will not shine A rainless **** that brings drought A trackless Album Father!/ Mother! The daily thoughts of these words Is like the butterfly effect caused hurricane But you are graced with Hopeful favour daily. After the storm, Comes a new life Where stiffness echoes, You are graced. Where thoughts are underneath You are hopeful Where odium creates circumstances of blames You are favoured With the Window of Laughter.
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 7:21 AM UTC
Shameful Infertility
It's just your guilt talking, out of the sly corners of its mouth. The ***** shame filled face,  with its dark sad eyes. It's just your guilt talking  my love, lying through its crooked teeth,  bending and swaying like a rotten tree in a gale.  Its story never the same,  never with a hint of truth or of sense. It's just your guilt talking, worry rusting its bones Regret. Remorse.   Eye contact,  what is eye contact?  It has never existed  in the dark eyelessness of your guilt. Fear, my love,  fear of repercussions,  of my assumed hatred,  of confrontation.  It's just your guilt talking, trying to avoid the thought  of me,  of what we had,  and the way you threw it as far away as possible. And now you will never be able to find it in the wildness,  and the wideness, of your guilt.   Your guilt, a field of crumbling stone,  of parasitic weeds.  With a black yet rainless sky. Stealing your life, your heart.  ******* it down into the toxic earth, of your guilt.
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Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 11:45 PM UTC
Your Guilt
O Lord, Abba Father, Forsake me not, Hear my anguished cry! How long will i wait? Before You... See the crater       That is my heart? Feel its jagged        edged agony? Taste the bitter bile? Engulfed in depression, Drenched in      the Gulf of Grief, I stare at the      Abyss of Hopelessness, Contemplating     a Chasm of Sorrow               too wide to cross. My sleeplessness witnesses       Moonless nights,           Starless skies. Scorching morns,         Rainless noons,               Song less days. Deafened by the clamour, Prayers and Praise      elude me, Silhouettes of Hope       seem distant. Soothe away       my heart scars, Seal my bleeding wounds Send away this void! Fill me with the Balm of Your Grace, Kiss of Your Mercy, Gift of Your Peace, Ecstasy of        Your Presence! Touch me! Heal me! Make me whole!
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Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 10:58 AM UTC
Psalm of Lament
I miss that muddy creek where we snuck under the bridge, cut a trail in the blackberries (they always caught my ankle, tore the bottoms of my jeans) where a rusty car sat by the water and I watched you catch water skippers and we talked about "the plan" if a cougar came from the hills for a drink. Where we abandoned bull frogs and threw rocks into the water. Where Augusts last forever and where we never parted ways. I miss you more than Deer Creek and those rainless, summer days.
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Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
Melissa.
1. It's odd Time never came To wonder under these beaches' loam, To walk forty steps to a tide Where sea-green foam flashes full its blade.      2.      Trammeled like a nun, the girl      Swept by me thoughtless. A root's gnarl      Could symbolize slim pain      Beneath the scleras: two jackals' den. 3.      *Hurt inwardly, like darkened stars,      So bursting silence is all one hears.* 4. The monotony of this shoreline is a throwback. What phantoms come: an electric shock. Why ten years ago is all I know Is not half as important as who or how. 5. The autumnal tremor, the rainless moonlight... Memories of little weight....
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Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
Memories on a Shoreline
The body's Atman falls to sorrow. Its path to the higher being is stalled by chance. Its gleaming red jewel reverts to coal And its beat sings an anguish filled aria. Its head filled with thoughts of death, Its hand holds a chalice filled with bane. Day after day the body withers like flowers That have endure countless, rainless summers. It seeks salvation from its afflictions And looks to faith for spiritual relief, But the lone syllable gives no shelter From the fear of self inflicted ill. Years he spends in wonder, In search of that he cannot answer. On top the highest mountain he stands Meditating on what the Thunder said.
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Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 10:09 AM UTC
In Shearch
I once heard that suicide was painless, especially if you use the steel that is stainless. But when you go, you're bound to die nameless, and everyone is helpless but no one is blameless. I once heard you could determine your life with a game of MASH, from who you would marry and if they'd have cash. The future was written out but the ink gave me a rash, and the destination was plotted to come to a crash. Now through early morning fog I see, every regret and every memory, grasping a hopeful visionary, that in this life we can be free. I once heard that suicide was painless, and with tragedy you can become famous, but the outcome is always quite heinous, and we all have pride but the release is shameless. Now through early morning fog I see, the line between truth and reality, and with every wish and every plea, I beg the world to just let it be. Yes suicide is painless, it's a route of living chainless, but it only leaves destruction in it's wake. Yes suicide is painless, it's skies are always rainless, but the rays of sunshine are extremely fake. Yes suicide is painless, It's outcome is very gainless, the only thing that's gifted is heartbreak.
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Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 9:40 AM UTC
Suicide is Painless
Dry as a waterless well. Dry as a rainless desert. Dry as a withered bone. Dry like most of Jeff Dunhams jokes. Dry like a summer day. My thoughts run dry. I have no more thoughts.
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Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
My Thoughs Are Dry
a poet's words a painter's eyes a visionaries mind a river dry a rainless sky Pairs without salvation are the gamblers despair a lover when she loses her desire is darkness beyond repair...
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Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 1:24 AM UTC
Pairs without salvation are the gamblers despair
one winter’s early eave as I was leaving work I sat in my old Carolla, facing east a rainless sky was threatening promising a cold, windy storm contrasting light grays, dark grays and blacks shapes shifting and swimming slowly like fish in an aquarium as I sat spying the skyscape a conspicuous cloud caught my attention a large, ashen football against a flat dark field began to split horizontally across the center slowly opening like eyelids long, thick lashes connecting top to bottom when the lashes finally parted the aperture revealed an angry Asian face with fiercely focused features the interaction looked at me without meeting my eyes I watched mesmerized for moments then drove home...wondering back at work, I described the incident to curious and amazed acceptance only one poor soul tried to discredit me poking fun at my “hallucination” “You don’t have to be afraid, baby”, I replied “It’s just clouds”
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Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 3:16 PM UTC
Just Clouds
present my roots with sacrifice and i'll grow into the sacrilegious i only like amber nectars and ***** water, so remember i'll blame you for the winters that come and rainless summers but i can be quelled by promise and wanton by touch and i'm a god and i'm a sun so conditions pay off to the appeased and maybe doors closed, i'll praise you too this is rugged and lame and you'll never get anywhere on this path but rocky and unsure is the way you chose to live anyway so what's another addition to Your toxic? drown your liver, smother your lungs, let your demons eat their way out of you from the inside out, claw at your lips, and watch them infect the ones your love- **** this life is short and everybody's already huffing and puffing on vapes and entitlement; give people something to really burn their houses down with. maybe a waste. maybe i'll rot.
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Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
cactus flowers
On this dry day my tears fill the rainless void Wash my cheeks and soul as hanging clouds would falling to the sound of singing
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 12:51 PM UTC
with blue sky
Birds gossip in the arms of the red maple. Rays of the Milky Way's brightest star, warms the back of the copper-eared, old hound. He sits on the single patch of grass persevering in dry soil of a rainless spring. Abandoned yard. The hound sits against a backdrop of neatly stacked bricks, indicating an air pump of life breathing on the hounds unfulfilled oasis. Rogue saplings lay vanquished- roots up, bundled in preparation for weekly collection. Uninvited soil-guests spot the yard with a deluding shade of jealousy green like the luscious grass over the hedge- deceit
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May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
Our backyard
I leave it all up to fate, theses rainless days ahead. These times before me ripple with possibilities, echo with the sobbing sounds of possible failure. Our ancient mysteries are to remain mysterious, just as the powers that be need them be. Most answers to unasked questions prove to be unkind. I focus on the art and the occidental sunset, that is for me the only for sure thing to come.
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
Casual Agent
A few words before a nap In the heat of the midsummer radiance In the heavy air of a string of rainless days When our lawn with its broad diversity of weeds Sits green without our help Before succumbing to the mid-afternoon weight Of eyelids commanding me to put tools down I will select from the firmament A few choice combinations of letters And their concomitant meanings They will say 'I am alive' In a landscape of life and death and struggle I am an organism that works to move forward Though some days I'll move less than others And sometimes I will rest.
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Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 4:11 PM UTC
Words For The Rest
We hit a wall. Our vaguely sour And broken dialogue drives us mad, Like we can't quite finish a sentence. Poles apart. Outside, the darkening clouds Brood like the foul memory of An insult, long forgiven, but Not forgotten. Our lines split and our words echo, Writhing in agony, torn and bro- Ken. Trying to form a question On our tongues, rolling like hot oil, Leaves raw burns in our minds. We lie In quiet then, a rainless storm of Unspoken fears.
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May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 8:13 PM UTC
Broken
Just let my fingers type, as they may, and feel your curves of energy. I feel your frequencies through simple words enough to sense emotion. Subtle language, you may use, to convey thought's connection: I understand them sure the same as looking at your complexion; don't take much introspection, did I mention bout to have a mean intervention with myself, stick around if you're down off the shelf, amount another, no wonder. Any way, here we go: So I was off for a stroll earlier today, thinking about problems 'stead of appreciating the good things in life, when I came upon this sudden realization, I need separation from my loved ones to appreciate their true caring for me at the level it is. I...what is wrong with me-the mindless, brainless, shameless, blameless, tameless, circumstantial-rainless one, who cannot seem to come to agreement with his Mother about where to live fun-thought sieving through the sand ground. Cannot keep going, getting sloppy. Close the tomb. Words are confused like a brainless bafoon. No more swoonin for ya, Swim quick like pain at the door for ya. Then let the energy store more, adorn the shores of need-to-do-this lists and other various chores, and what's more, I've gone on autopilot and let the trail behind my word with the last of my day's energies, blessed down the sun upon me.
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Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
Kinda, sorta close...