Flames Under Rain Storms

I stood outside, watched the rain on my balcony, and wrote

My senses are

separations hit

and sink into streams,

only flow down

hills, except the sticky

mud clenches its teeth

against seeped black

roads with white

waves creaking

mouths open, speaking

in rain drops

I dance with my sliming

skin from the balcony

railing and burst

cells breathing air

cool and swiftly

around my sides

pinned up over

anxiety, now a full body

breath in a storm of rain

and waning water

streams past

my sight and fallen

drops that sing

my earth through rhythm, steady

calmness undone,

a dissatisfied past

and its stalk of consequence.

 

My ease walks

through stormy walls

and hides under

the shush of echoes

of wheels rolling west

to sleep and sooth,

to speak through tearing

thunder and light the night

of lightning like an instant

flashes and sees

through street lights and suns

the constancy of their current,

they always glow away the night.

 

Under shelter of roofs,

smoky flames hold

a slipping hand

in windy form

that clings to wax

melted into pools

darker than water

and candle fire,

then still, pointing

longer and parallel

to risen cigar smoke

that deludes

a projected cloudy burn

from exit doors like lips.

 

Cigarettes stalk of white

outlines, wrapping

that waits for a flame

to heat fiery burns to ash

sinking lighter

back into lighters

lifting lit cancer and spilling

an echo that cracks repetition,

like a slide of creek water

further down its streams

of sequence,

a soaked slip

of current, stern and frosty

and glistened light

of white sparks, headlights

flash and follow a flow,

rain smells like wetness

humid air and dense,

we nose breathe its scent.

 

Flames and fissures

of water vapor,

stoned slickness

sadly let go in our steepness

as swimming pools

in shortcomings and sorrows

clean a shroud

of pure hallucinations

set to spark light switches,

on and off

in split seconds

and separate spots.

 

Dripping thoughts hit a ledge

and splash epiphany

into separate pieces

of sorrow and shade,

and tapped

the earth’s surface

like steady

and stern fingers tap

a soft dirty drum.

 

I hear for a distance of a few meters,

smell for a few feet,

touch and taste for no length,

but see infinity

when we watch a clear rainy sky,

how many miles

of light blue gray or black is that?

Author's Note

Any continuity issues here? Any other thoughts or critiques? Thanks for reading!

Just made a revision, added more line breaks, cut some lines (including almost all of the first stanza). What do you think of the newer version?

Reviews

[KayOss]

I love the beginning. I must admit that I started to read this, several times. I would read the first couple of lines and stop to ponder them, enjoying the way the lines moved around in my head. Finally, I pushed past this to read more, only to be stopped at various points through the poem, to ponder and visualize and enjoy. It's akin to the way a wine connoisseur will sniff the wine while swirling it in the glass, then take a sip, rolling that sip over the tongue. The connoisseur knows that the wine is very complex and contains many different flavors that are best savored and enjoyed. These flavors reveal themselves throughout the tasting rather than all at the beginning. I think I finally know what they experience. I finally know the savoring of various images and phrases, of thoughts and words... the delicate associations and 'flavors' of the poem that reveal themselves throughout - some more subtle and some more boldly.

Also, I'm a huge fan of leaving people guessing, so I love the way you ended this. As usual, you've created a great work here.

[Sami Khalil]

A good read and write...Thank you for sharing sir...:).......................

[Emily Dickinson Jr.]

I like the poem itself but I don't like how short the lines are. It might just be a stylistic preference but I feel it made it a bit choppy.

[Adam :P]

amazingly constructed.

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

your poem is exceptionally well constructed with imagery to convey emotional resonances through engaging all the senses~ excellent!~

[.]

I think this is an amazing write, It's lovely I enjoyed your first stanza.

[Lauren Wicker]

I love the alliteration--"senses separations" "dirty drums" and the consonance--"flames and fissures" "sinks into streams"--the repitition of the "s" sound give it a hissing feel, much like rain on a tin roof. It's quite long--usually I cannot stand long poems, but I really enjoyed this one. I really like the motif of the senses, as well. You really emphasize every aspect of the rain--you're touching it--you can feel the "sticky" mud, the "sliming skin" (brilliant by the way) and you can taste the rain that "smells of wetness humid air and dense." I really am enjoying the grotesque imagery as well—it really reminds me of Seamus Heaney’s stuff. Earthy, muddy, dense. It sinks you low enough to take in the rain on a completely different level—you hear it, smell it, taste it, feel it. Brilliant, brilliant job.

[Sandra K]

Beautiful Travis, as always. Your really good at finding the right words to express who you are. Very admirable. I like the last lines very much because it leave the readers ponding on just that, just as i did.

"when we watch a clear rainy sky,
how many miles
of light blue grey or black is that?"

Great Work!
Sandra K!

[Alexzan Marie]

I find comfort in your seemingly distant pieces.

The lines felt like a warm, sad blanket shrouding me and keeping me safe and cozy within their depth.

...weird feeling, I know, but it's the truth.

Beautiful work.