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.

you know, I think you're quite fantastic :)
I have read so many poems, and they're often so nostalgic and non specific and leave either so much room for thought that you can make it about whatever you want, or so specific that there canonly ever be onemeaning, this poem, (as many of yours does I noticd) leaves room for your own interpretation, but you have such great description! I always get such vivid imagery from your poetry, and I LOVED these two lines:
"waves creaking
mouths open, speaking"

^^^ They're really great, I love how you use personification- I'd like to see you use more of it because evidently you have quite a talent for it :) xx well done and good write dear :) xx

[Vanessa]

I do feel like the rhythm itself gives a feel of the padding of rain. And then, put with the words, it sounds magnificent. I really, really like the breaks, where they're placed and all. I cannot say that I've seen any grammatical errors. Well done.
Also, the entire last stanza seems to sound best of all. And I swear, I'll repeat that in my mind some time today.

--Vanessa Alyse

[J.P.O.et]

This is longer for you, or have your pieces been gettin longer in general
but this is so soulfull and you use the words well.
and the end, the end that question just kept lingering in my head afterward
'how many miles of light blue grey or black is that?'
Really nice piece that brings the reader there

J.P.O.et

[Adam Jordan Turner]

Wow, this one is very well done. I am slightly taken aback by your incredible use f the english language. You really have a way with words in all your pieces but especially this one. And once again, that imagery and descriptiveness just hit the spot. The continuity works very well, no issues at all. I really love the stanza about the cigarette, that was awesome. Nice write!

[M@]

Whoa, incredible piece. I dig it.

What strikes me best about this poem are the ideas you give to the reader: they're fresh, they're new spiced and diced with old, and the old are given a new feel that preserves the antiquity of the idea/image through new descriptions. There's also a lot in this poem about nothing, which I'm a fan of; it's not neccesarily "about" anything, or depicting a scene you witnessed, but rather, it's showing the reader what the world showed you, which is one of the strongest things a poem can do.

If you're curious about cintinuity issues, I don't see any, therefore resolving the issue. Like I say, you're not telling a story so much, but rather just showing us something to soak in.

If anything, I'd watch your gammer a bit. There's only two spots that I could see that could use some grammer. First, the lines, "with white waves creaking/mouths open, speaking/in rain drops/I dance with my slim skin" seem to ask for a period after "in rain drops". Of course, you could be using that line, which ends the above thought, to start the next, though if that's what you're aiming for, there might be a way to grammticaly tell that to the reader so they don't get thrown off. Secondly, the phrase, "we nose breath its scent" makes little to no sense to me at all. It may just be that it's an early morning, but I don't know what this phrase means, and may be a typo.

Besides that, there's nothing in this poem that I can say I'm not a fan of. You set out to do something that poetry does amazingly well, and you communicated that through your writing incredibly. Nice work, I dig it.

[Jane Doe]

Wonderfully vivid and well written. I agree with Robin that maybe the lines could use some rearranging, but other than that, it is fantastic!

[robin]

It's simply a matter of phrasing, but in the spoken word pacing,
Your word jazz enriches metaphoric rains and walls give way
and where walls don't fit for us who don't recognize this crib
Know now this babe pounds his feet to please,
As I just did

Great! yes it could use some tightening, maybe only in the arrangement of lines chosen more discreetly,
clears the flow for us who struggle upstream and the rivulets who don't yet know, your shock will fix'em neatly!
Robin

[Christel Grady]

I adore this piece - the way use manipulate sound and form. Your words are breath-taking! I feel like I'm standing on that balcony with you.

[Antoinette]

As always your writing builds with images and the words just flow into eachother. Good to be here..
Cheers