I hear you in the rain
pouring over me
cold,
drenching.
I’m drowning in you.
Upside down umbrella
beneath a drain spout.
See me tap dancing?
Oh, I’m singing
while you’re pouring
turning roads to light sucking ink.
I think the gutters overflow with you.
You’re sheets
fountains
water falls
rivers
you are an ocean.
I float.
Another storm warning.
Cotton clouds turn into coal smoke,
Flashes splice the sky.
We’re drenched by pelting rain,
until it blows by again.
Wouldn’t it be nice
if the newscaster flashed
storm warnings
about flashes of temper
and drenching tears,
so we knew to stay indoors
or prepare our rain gear?
We’re raining
damp permeates bones
sky slides claustrophobically close
Grey day
Listen to the rain
clicking against the windows
thudding on the roof
washing away whatever was waiting
yesterday, and cleaning for tomorrow.
The mist in the hills
weighs heavily on my heart
The wind through the valley
blows bleakly on my brain
The rain from the grey
drips doggedly on my dreams.
.
.
.
It’s only Wed, but I am exhausted! I’m sure this soggy weather isn’t helping
All evening
the hills have been
illuminated by a
laser light show,
and now
the skies are
streaming;
white mist
hides the hills,
enfolding us
as the heavens
flash and crash
above.
It’s misty in the hills
Rain falls in spatters on the windshield
How can there be a Christmas Craft Fair
when there is no snow?
The day is grey:
the sky washes the earth.
Dogs curled in tight balls of fur
are not tempted to inspect the outdoors.
We light the fireplace,
watch water streaming down the windows,
we dream of spring
as autumn taunts.
Epic battle:
light and dark.
Musket muzzles flash
Light bayonets the hills
with slashing stabs.
In the concussion of the cannonade
Houses rattle.
.
.
So let’s discuss this poem. Despite the nice circuitous connection of battle/rattle , I think ‘houses rattle’ is the weakest line in the poem, and ending with the weakest line is never a good thing. You want a nice strong ending. I started with ‘reverberation’ in the line (no houses at that point) which is perhaps better is some ways, though I felt too obvious a choice.
Let’s workshop this. What do you think? What would you do to the last line to continue the battle metaphor, but convey the quaking ground and rattling windows?
