Friday, July 11, 2008

My Song of the Rain


if i forget
the fungus growing
in the house
on the walls
in my wardrobe
in my bones,
forget the
whispers of white
streak a blue sky
the esthesis
of sunshine...
and watch the world
take on a new
perspective through
a camera lens -
a bleak
black
brooding
battered
element-ravaged
beauty,
then i love
the rain.

16 comments:

  1. Well, I love a rainy night
    I love a rainy night
    I love to hear the thunder
    Watch the lightning
    When it lights up the sky
    You know it makes me feel good

    Well, I love a rainy night
    It's such a beautiful sight
    I love to feel the rain
    On my face
    Taste the rain on my lips
    In the moonlight shadow

    Showers washed
    All my cares away
    I wake up to a sunny day
    'Cos I love a rainy night
    Yeah, I love a rainy night
    Well, I love a rainy night
    Well, I love a rainy night
    (Eddie Rabbit)

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  2. lovely. the photo goes well with the poem :)

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  3. How beautiful is the rain!
    After the dust and heat,
    In the broad and fiery street,
    In the narrow lane,
    How beautiful is the rain!

    How it clatters along the roofs,
    Like the tramp of hoofs
    How it gushes and struggles out
    From the throat of the overflowing spout!

    Across the window-pane
    It pours and pours;
    And swift and wide,
    With a muddy tide,
    Like a river down the gutter roars
    The rain, the welcome rain!

    The sick man from his chamber looks
    At the twisted brooks;
    He can feel the cool
    Breath of each little pool;
    His fevered brain
    Grows calm again,
    And he breathes a blessing on the rain.

    From the neighboring school
    Come the boys,
    With more than their wonted noise
    And commotion;
    And down the wet streets
    Sail their mimic fleets,
    Till the treacherous pool
    Ingulfs them in its whirling
    And turbulent ocean.

    In the country, on every side,
    Where far and wide,
    Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide,
    Stretches the plain,
    To the dry grass and the drier grain
    How welcome is the rain!

    In the furrowed land
    The toilsome and patient oxen stand;
    Lifting the yoke encumbered head,
    With their dilated nostrils spread,
    They silently inhale
    The clover-scented gale,
    And the vapors that arise
    From the well-watered and smoking soil.
    For this rest in the furrow after toil
    Their large and lustrous eyes
    Seem to thank the Lord,
    More than man's spoken word.

    Near at hand,
    From under the sheltering trees,
    The farmer sees
    His pastures, and his fields of grain,
    As they bend their tops
    To the numberless beating drops
    Of the incessant rain.
    He counts it as no sin
    That he sees therein
    Only his own thrift and gain.

    These, and far more than these,
    The Poet sees!
    He can behold
    Aquarius old
    Walking the fenceless fields of air;
    And from each ample fold
    Of the clouds about him rolled
    Scattering everywhere
    The showery rain,
    As the farmer scatters his grain.

    He can behold
    Things manifold
    That have not yet been wholly told,--
    Have not been wholly sung nor said.
    For his thought, that never stops,
    Follows the water-drops
    Down to the graves of the dead,
    Down through chasms and gulfs profound,
    To the dreary fountain-head
    Of lakes and rivers under ground;
    And sees them, when the rain is done,
    On the bridge of colors seven
    Climbing up once more to heaven,
    Opposite the setting sun.

    Thus the Seer,
    With vision clear,
    Sees forms appear and disappear,
    In the perpetual round of strange,
    Mysterious change
    From birth to death, from death to birth,
    From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth;
    Till glimpses more sublime
    Of things, unseen before,
    Unto his wondering eyes reveal
    The Universe, as an immeasurable wheel
    Turning forevermore
    In the rapid and rushing river of Time.
    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    kan naupan laiin kan xir thrin :)

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  4. The poem is nice, but rain is not.

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  5. ambs, never been a rain fan either but technology does strange things. Like romanticize the boring and the yucky.

    p&b, thank you. I don't write poetry often but I wanted a snappy little piece that summed up my feelings and the pic.

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  6. samuapa, nice song that.

    virgo, first three verses chiah khi ka lo hre thin.

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  7. Love it, love it. Love the brevity. It's so you!

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  8. I take it the two love its refer to pic and poem :P This is just the 4th poem I've ever written in my life. The first one was like 20 plus years ago, the second some 8/9 years back and the third just last year. Hey I must be picking up poesie vibes from all you guys :D

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  9. rain rain go away little tommy want to come in your home:-)

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  10. Great shot, lovely rain-song. And it's so true that you can't have all the plusses without some minus.

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  11. Calliopia, you're so definitely one of my favourite photographers...and nice than most, to boot! The 'fungus growing in my bones' made me smile from ear to ear. Those June 7th pictures look lip-smackingly good enough to eat off the (web)page.

    On a conspiratorial note...psst, here's the membership slip (gilt edged) to the Monaco Saltines Sophomore Pshaw Beta Kappa Klub. Welcome, welcome! :D

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  12. Awww monazo, thank you, thank you. I'm truly honoured to be a member of the Monaco Saltines etc Club :D

    And I'm so glad you got the "fungus growing in my bones" part. But then if you are who I think you are, I'm not surprised you picked on that immediately. And hey, once you get to be my age and feel monsoonal fungal growth in your poor knees and ankles, you're bound to go all grouchy too :P

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  13. mesjay, thank you! Yeah, into every life a little rain must fall and all that.

    azassk, :P

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  14. four poems?!!! It's a [b]crime to waste talent, I'm sure you know that. Will be expecting more along the same lines from you soon!

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  15. Doctor's orders? Aye aye I'll try my best! :)

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