RAIN

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Safe and secure.

Beneath the bridge.

Rain splashing free.

Wild on its journey.

Watering the trees.

Filling the grass.

Life for the flowers.

Puddles for the concrete.

A splash.

A spray.

Cold on my face.

Alive.

Surrounding me.

With life.

AFTER THE RAIN

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After The Rain

The streets will be sparkling clean.

The sun will shine.

Kids play ball.

Bicycles ride by.

Couples walk hand in hand.

The air sweet with laughter from

the diners at the sidewalk cafe.

A dog sleeps in the shadows.

A new day.

Sparkling clean.

HAPPINESS

 

I’ve been dared to write a poem.

I sit here and I will show em

That I can write about bliss

But it will be hit or miss.

Happiness hasn’t been my friend.

On white wings heaven does not send.

I seek it every day.

A sneak of it I still pray

Will rain down upon me

Before I’m gone to sea.

 

 

 

THE SNOW IS BLACK

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A town where the snow is black,
bringing coldness and fear.
Old remnants of tears held back,
and times too hard to bear.
Woven from black sheets of rain,
fear covers in disarray.
Anguished and frozen with pain,
dark petals fall in dismay.
Hell has come to Oasis,
The Dead and gone at its side.
Now hidden behind faces
that are well-known far and wide.
Who will fall prey to The Dead?
I hope it is not me.
I’m hiding under my bed.
I’m afraid as I can be.
THE DEAD GAME
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A NEW BEGINNING

 

A NEW BEGINNING

The rain hits the puddles

in staccato rhythm.

A constant 

and mesmerizing sound.

Tree branches hang low,

weighed down with water.

Flowers lift their shiny faces

for their morning washing.

The cold, crisp rain

refreshes and renews.

The clouds dry out.

The sun returns

to brighten the day.

The air smells clean.

A new day dawns.

A new beginning.

THE WAVES

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THE WAVES

Lined up like sentries.

Shoulder to shoulder.

Eying the shoreline.

Storm at their backs.

Wind at their sides.

Sun setting above.

Sea ripples below.

Sky darkens.

Clouds rush in.

Birds flee the scene.

Sky opens up.

Water rains down from above.

Quiet reigns supreme.

They quicken their tempo.

Winds pick up their pace.

They hit the sand with force.

Lines of soldiers.

Shoulder to shoulder.

As one.

THE PERFECT MELODY

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The air feels heavy,

Laden with moisture.

Clouds roll in.

The sky grows darker.

Then you hear the first drops.

The water pounding on the roof

in a staccato melody of its own.

Pound, pound, pound.

Tap, tap, tap.

The rain washes our streets

and clears our minds.

Preparing us for a new day.