in meek droplets
and unforgiving sheets.
Rarely does it wash
anything clean,
merely adding
another layer
of dirty air,
baking itself
on the roof
of my car,
or on a cheap plastic
backyard chair,
miscreant weeds and
unspoken-for
mounds of dirt.
No,
my rain is
unpredictable
and it takes
a day or two
for its musty
grasp to be
loosened.
It can gray-dampen
a sun filled sky,
sit on my plans
and cruelly,
unceremoniously,
remind me
of my ultimate
helplessness
and finite
abilities.
My rain
comes in memories
of loss, regret
and longing
and even if
I try
to hide indoors,
it is always
rainy season
in there too.
[Written for https://dversepoets.com/2020/06/02/rain/]
I relate.
ReplyDeleteFeels like rain's shadowy twin. Or depression. Whatever it is or isn't it's deep.
ReplyDeleteOh, nicely done. Yeah, it's raining, it's pouring, it's miserable - an then in that last verse you turn the whole thing upside down and show us that the rain is not what's happening here. I love it when a poem tips itself over like that and shows a different underbelly.
ReplyDeleteI’ve read so many poems about joyful rain, your rain came as a surprise, Buddha, such extremes and not washing anything clean – drab, dirty rain. I remember that kind of rain when I lived in London. It’s certainly different out here in the countryside. The last three stanzas are so sad.
ReplyDeleteGreat. Love the ending, all the resonant language throughout.
ReplyDeleteNice ending with it being rainy season indoors as well.
ReplyDeleteOh my! What a dismal description of my beloved rain. So sorry it's gray indoors as well.
ReplyDeleteA totally different take on rain ... I love it!
ReplyDeleteExcellent! I love "miscreant" and the way the ending followed indoors.
ReplyDeleteGood to see you here, Buddah!
This type of rain is the worst... especially when it rains inside... So heavy with depression.
ReplyDeleteI'm having trouble commenting on google account but I'll try again.
ReplyDeleteI understand this 'inside' rain. It is a drizzle that doesn't stay away for long.