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I hate this all day rain, slowly dripping
that sky becomes all wet, a gray blanket,
and all the colors that would joy my heart
are washed away, and lost within its mist.

I would not have this dreariness outside,
as little rain assault the clouded panes
until the glass would seem made of water...
How dreary! How dreary without the sun.

So I let wonder take me to where the sun
commanded one to bow before its might;
where seeking shade did not always help
as the air was baked, and wind blew hot;

Where, with rain, the water fell at once,
(like being drenched benight a waterfall)
the beating rain pelting onto the roofs,
houses next to you vanishing from sight.

I think about those times of amazement:
to see a wall of water walk up the street
in clean cut line, a curtain being drawn
to slowly swallow up the bright day sky;

to see it build, and make plans to stay,
and accept the momentous emptying...
only to see it rage across the street
while I stand dry, looking on at its world.

I long for rain taken from skies above
New Orleans. I long for that vital rain,
that full orgasm; not this flaccid fall.
this chill of vitality within me.

Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Thanks for sharing.

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I so enjoy your writings this is a perfect poem but remember with rain comes rainbows and better times
keep on writing


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