The Rain

Of all the elements, wind, earth, fire, water connects most with me. It doesn't rain much around here, so when it does, it seems a miracle, a mercy to me. This poem is trying to capture that

 

She has come at last,
to quench the bestial fire
that devoured our dust bleared eyes,
and crackled within our howling throats,
until every last surviving warrior surrendered,
casting their broken swords as failed wishes,
into the desolate canyons of the dead.

The soft advance of her powerful cloud ships was seen from afar,
heralded by moist winds across the Great Plains to the buffalo herds,
steered by a will that glides beyond terrestrial strategies and realizations,
booming gently above ancient mountain strongholds of sleeping rock,
She settles her billowing, diaphanous robes over the somber Viking oceans,
who have long awaited this goddess's intimacy.

Once again the gray heavens of her wandering kingdoms
hush the violent and clamorous rages of our bewildered world,
taming wildly neighing horses and the caged, frantic birds,
with cool kisses of reassurance and tears of translucent compassion
that seep to the gnarled roots of the wise grandfather trees,
replenishing the streams with lush tenderness and quiet marvels,
lilies and bright aquatic plants sheltering the shy fish from Japan.

In my room, listening to drops falling, I am relieved, at peace,

because today the world does not need to awaken

She makes us lonely and brings sweet sleep to the fearful,
For when her blessings descend you need no other lover.
She heals our wounds and anoints our brows with dignity,
so we are free to smile, standing on moss, among the reeds,
in awe of the of the lives of the past and future instilled,
deciphering paths to hidden bridges and stairways.

Touching wet leaves, our eyes mirroring ponds, hair as long vines,
and arms cold rivers that wash away the frail memories of mortality.
In the gardens the weeping statues begin to wonder and slowly dance
to a myriad of musical dripping bells that lead to forest sanctuaries,
where shamans, sages, and sojourners cleanse their philosophies,
the ink of their holy scriptures bleeding beautiful new verses.
It is the mist of thundering waterfalls that smell of eternity,
cascading down the stone steps of our earthen hearts,
to restore the subterranean springs of the soul.

Even when we have all but forgotten the foggy trails,
and barred our gates and nostalgic pattering windows,
she returns to have us drink of the dew flowers,
from which pour memories of sacred vales.

Thus the element spirits navigate the sighing sky routes,
while a mother of many children plays an ice-beaded harp,
through the ages, reciting the most effortless poetry of love,
so our hearts will be as the soothing rocking of the waves,
the harmonious unison, that will guide us deeper,
to her understanding and mercy.

Reviews

[Luke]

this is quite an interesting portrayal of the rain. I think your very clever in the way you execute a quite meaningful description while keeping the reader interested right throughout the poem

[Kuandio]

thank you Luke!
May the Force be with you, always,...

[Nina C Palmer]

Oh, this is my fave i am voting for yours. I love your words!

[Kuandio]

Thank u!!! I wish it would rain here where I'm from, its turning into a desert

[Nina C Palmer]

Ditto, idaho desert in August. I want for.rain as well!

[Edwin-Nweze]

Woah. Excuse me while I gather my head. After a long day it seems your poem was enough to send me into an almost hypnotic state (for lack of a better description)... Quite an interesting portrayal of the rain. However, the first verse muddled me a little, trying to figure out if the following lines referred to the rain or the fire...

[Kuandio]

thank u for checking it out

[Zahra]

An amazing piece, so exquisitely done

[Michelle N. H.]

What splendid praise of nature, the water, rain.. You penned her exquisiteness, beautifully.

[flyfly5]

Even when we have all but forgotten the foggy trails,
and barred our gates and nostalgic pattering windows,
she returns to have us drink of the dew flowers,
from which pour misted memories of sacred vales.

I love this grouping. Absolutely beautiful imagery. But what is the value in referencing "sacred vales"? I find that group of words throws me off a bit

[Dhruv Yonzon]

you do love the rain and i can see why!!! beautiful :)

[Sami Khalil]

Appreciation of the miracle of rain in much needed place or places like yours and beautiful imagery to accompany that...:)...........

[Rain Washes My Soul]

I love this poem. It paints beautiful images in my mind's eye, and the words you use are just unusual enough to stand out while at the same time being easy to understand. Wonderful work. I applaud you.

[Kuandio]

Thanks a lot for the review. Sounds like you connect with the rain as well. This is maybe my favorite poem I've written. I can't wait until it rains again here, it is so dry,

[Rain Washes My Soul]

It looked like a monsoon here last night ^_^ I hope some nice rain comes your way soon.