Silvery drops of moonlight
Fall from the darkened clouds
That obscure the sky,
while the heavens cry
Their silvery moonlight tears.
The cool breeze of autumn rushed into my face as I stepped out the door
The leaves made it impossible for me to be quiet as they crunched under my feet
I began walking
With no destination in mind
The Earth was damp with last night's heavy rain
Raindrops hung off the blades of grass as if they were holding on for dear life
The moon shone like a lamp down onto the puddles,
Illuminating the water
The air was crisp
The smell of the ocean was drifting through the air Read more »
I want the sun to stop shining.
I want the rain to come to my calling.
I want the wind to blowing
so I can feel the rain fall on my skin.
A stom is a lovely thing to witness
as long as your in it.
I do not belong to the sky
The sky does not belong to me
When it cries, I shine
When it smiles, I drench
you can see
see how it
light of my
you can hear Read more »
A single rain drop
Brushing against my check
As i run
Down the street
The street is cluttered with cars
But it fades away
Into the subtitle distance
I run down the littered sidewalks
And the brick ally ways
Just a sign
Fall to my eyes
Through openings in the dome,
Kiss my cheeks with the
Temptation of the unknown.
Come crash into me,
Fall through my hands,
May I soak in your beauty
As it brings life to this sand?
I watch the drops descending;
They’re running down my cheeks,
And I cry as I am watching,
Because it almost tastes too sweet.
I’ve something to say
but no words to say it with.
No combination of letters,
can capture the unfinished image
echoing around my mind.
Read more »
I wipe the raindrops away from the windshield
and the teardrops away from my eyes;
the weather is predicted to rain today;
it’s really no surprise.
I’ll stare at the window watching the droplets race
dreaming of better days
when the sunlight will be so bright
that through closed eyelids I’ll see the rays.
Read more »
I don’t get hit with your smell leaving
the room anymore.
I can barely remember the way your lips,
chapped and salty with the sea,
tasted in the rain.
In the hazy moments before sleep,
your hands no longer sneak (like light over the
treetops at sunrise) across my skin.
The front door opened abruptly. A girl ran out into the dreary, rain-filled night. Her laughter made the streetlights seem brighter, and the eerie light that streamed from the windows felt warm and welcoming. She ran out into the middle of the street, laughing. The hems of her jeans dragged on the wet ground under her bare feet. In the center of the road, she stopped, and threw her arms out, as if attempting to embrace the world and everything in it. Then, grinning, she twirled around, inviting the rain to caress her pale face, to seep between her fingers, before falling to the asphalt below. as abruptly as she had started, she stopped, and fell to the ground, laughing joyfully.
The rain falls outside
falling faster, with more ferocity
back to the constant
Retta sat on the steps, waiting. The weather had been beautiful all week, but clouds had begun to gather in the morning, and now there was a thick grey blanket across the sky. The air was thick and wet and stagnent.
That's okay, thought Retta. It will rain soon.
The wooden steps were damp with dew, soaking through Retta's jeans. Retta didn't mind though. She would be soaked soon enough.
In the peeling white farmhouse, Retta's mother sat at the window. After a minute of watching her daughter she sighed and walked into the back kitchen. When Retta was younger her mother would drag her inside whenever it rained. Retta had always fought against her, and eventually her mother had given up. She didn't understand why Retta liked to sit in the rain, but she let her.
Retta saw her mother leave the window. She turned back, facing the road and continued to wait for the rain.
Good, she thought. Privacy.
She lifted her face to the sky and hugged her knees to her chest. Her face was already becoming red and she could feel it.
Come on, she prayed silently. God, don't let me— Just let it rain, please.
She shook her head to relieve the pressure. Her nose was beginning to run, and the redness had reached her eyes which began to water. She shifted her position and bit her lip.
"Please." Read more »
Grey clouds bloom overhead
It smells of rain
Staring at the sky
She bites her lip,
So as not to cry
The clouds open
Pouring raindrops down
As if the earth were weeping
She closes her eyes
Tears fall freely
Mingling with the rain
As if she did not cry
Rain falls at my feet and splashes up against the sidewalk. Silent streams of water race down the road in which I am walking. In my head chimes a lullaby of dreamy sadness. Maybe I love you, maybe I just love the rain. How can such a mind decide, when all I can feel are the tears clinging to face? How can anyone decide anything? My hands reach up to the whispy clouds and let the rain soak into my battered skin. Love me, or love me not, this is me. Sweet sadness of mine.
(I've been neglecting this site recently, what with the end of school and other annoying matters related to life in general. So I've decided to give myself a challenge. I'm going to post something every day of this month to make up for the fact that I've barely been posting over the past few months. This is My July Challenge. Enjoy!)
There's something wonderously beautiful about the smell of rain. Read more »
It was silent, quiet
that hypnogogic time when reality blurs
into something more or something less
than everyday life.
Suddenly there was rain, fierce, pounding, thunderous.
The water roared as it hit the street
wet and warm.
And then, as quickly as it had begun,
it slowed, stopped.
For a moment
it was the most beautiful thing
I had ever witnessed.
the rain is not falling
there are no tears today
the rain is not falling right now
but I guess that means nothing.
we can still blame it on the rain—
the headaches and the pain
the heaviness that sends us off
calling our own creations
(yes, you look like you care)
but sometimes it seems I'm the only one
who doesn't call anything
nothing of consequence,
the only one who values too many things Read more »
Mud couses down my legs in rivulets of murky blood,
The sky's tears try in vain to wash them.
My hair is wet enough to wash the sins of the Danaides.