Poetry Blogs (Rain)

And so it begins. Or ends

The seasons change and as

September dies lies forgotten

Like Summer, Autumn October

Rears. Not misty mellow fruitfullness

With rusty leaf colour bright splashing

Hedgerow and tree russet yellow brown,

Mists that turn to rain and wind and heavy

Rain splashing in the track ruts and puddles

Around the farm;  every field soggy with all the

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Heavens open up.

Cats and dogs cascading down.

People disappear.

Afterword

My second crack at the Senryu poetry form. 3 non rhyming lines, 17 sylables arranged  5,7,5

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the rain beating down
I am safe
under a large winter coat hood
I am safe
just a tunneled gap to peak through
safer than ever
warm and safe and comforted
this padded men's Parker is a thousand hugs
it makes me invisible
I am far from it
yet I am the closest to feeling invisible
than I have felt before
they can't see my eyes
therefore unaproachable
weary
the unknown
no reassuring fac...

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OUR RAIN

My face drenched

My hair soaked

Our bodies cling

The sound of thunder

Rain gloriously cleansing our past

Our kiss

Our dance

Our rain

Our love

A memory of our first glance

Our first embrace

Our first kiss

This is our rain

Our dance

Our love

Hope

Trust

Complete at last

Gone with the past

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Every now and then, we find a band aide to cover a wound on our soul

As soothing as it seems, we must pay the toll

for it will eventually begin to peel

and in anticipation of the pain we will feel

our muscles tense and our jaws clench

until it is pulled off all at once

like an assassin’s attack with no alert

one final hurt

To recover, we sleep as thunder rumbles its wa...

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It was raining cats and dogs

When I looked around

Snails sitting on the logs,

Drinking rain I found.

And I told them like this:

You'll get wet, my dears!

And they told me like this:

- We have no fears.

And the spring inside us sings,

We are happy dancers.

Rain clear water brings,

Those were the answers.

We are covered with the shell

It protects...

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It's raining in the south
preparing all the ways that we've lost,
it's raining in the south
against the truth and the wisdom,
against the back and wrath,
from the moment that we crashed into.
It's raining in the south
and we are not the only one.
And all of the bodies
just trying to be ignored,
refreshing their lifes,
protecting their core.
Who and when, what is it all about?
It's rai...

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Raincheck

Leaves drift caught in sun

shafts shimmer gold as silver

gifts splash outstretched hand

water spheres hurled from

nebulous grey clouds above

swirling winds tease memories

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2010

(Written to artwork in Raincheck Exhibition by Jessica McCallum in 2010.)

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Hanging in the shed

Are four dead pheasants and a woodcock

On a makeshift table

Some half-eaten sandwiches and a thermos

A drab green waterproof

Hangs on a nail above some boots and drips

The man sits talking to a friend

And rubbing his damp hair with an old towel

Outside dogs are sniffing around the cars

Ignoring the rain one man is hunched over his ...

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