The rain falls aloud to dress tired grounds,
And mark the places where flowers grows,
Waters climb out from the soft clouds,
Cool our thirst when the sun glows.
Swirling rain bring hurricane to the trouble seas,
Waves of beacon scream from the ocean,
Marching with the beat of noise in rifle streams,
And none that came would return again.
Down the road showers wash away the pain,
And become a source we need to survive,
Like the joy we share when we fall in love again,
And the magic of life turns everything alive.
Below the ground, invisible roots set off,
And seek moisture to find the upper land,
As long as it lives it will never forget,
Stopping a little and waiting for the rain.
To tell the thrushes and sparrows in the meadow,
About the wind that blows and bring the rain,
As a tune to water the ground with fresh dew,
And retreat back in the clouds to heaven.
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Author:
Gerry Legister (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 31st, 2010 02:29
- Comment from author about the poem: The rainfall spread and scattered showers everywhere Upon parch grounds dull and indifferent.
- Category: Surrealist
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
Hi:
And we come to a full cicle of life. Really nice. I love how you observe this details with such care, it's like magic, well I do like to see them as well.
Well, Happy New Year 🙂
Best
Dolphine
Very interesting. The fourth stanza reminds me a bit of what the Bible says about trees in contrast to man, that even cut to a stump, they will revive and grow...through the scent of water. Fascinating scene you painted.
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