RHYTHM OF THE FALLING RAIN – PROMPT # 2

And so our garden is started. “Seeds” of varied types and sentiments have been sown randomly from our fertile minds. A good start for our new adventure. But, now that the dirty work is done we’ll need to water our garden.

Water in its gentility possesses great power. It has healing capabilities, but can also be destructive in nature, as seen recently with the tsunamis in Japan. Write a water poem. It could be the rains of Spring, a lake or ocean, a toddler’s wading pool, even melting ice as a form of water; as long as it’s wet and you can express it, write it.

Marie Elena’s example:

CRY ME A RIVER
(Or, Graduate Student’s Lament)

Determination: diluted.
Social life: evaporated
Spirits: dampened.

Life is but a mist.
A mere drop in the bucket.

Then Graduate School
rained on his parade.

Pour soul.
I drought he knew
how swamped he would be,
nor how utterly drained
his pockets.

But,
that’s water under the bridge.

His assets, now liquid,
it’s full steam ahead.

Walt’s example:

UMBRELLA SMILES

The
sun peeks judiciously,
almost suspiciously from behind
darkened clouds. The loud crack of
thunder’s fury hurries through on winds of
change. The day is not a wash. You quash the blahs
 with          the              sing          le up               turn
of a
 st-
iff
up-
 per
lip,
Eve-
 ry
last
drip 
                                                                           is           defl-
                                                                          ect          ed.
                                                                          The        joy
                                                                           is re-    flect-
                                                                             ed in your
                                                                                 smile

***

Being Mother’s Day, we’re throwing up a wild card prompt as well. You can also post Mother’s Day poems.

52 thoughts on “RHYTHM OF THE FALLING RAIN – PROMPT # 2

  1. First, let me wish a wonderful Mother's Day to all you wonderful mothers out there! May your children rise up and call you blessed.Here's my first draft of today's poem… I hope to post the next draft on my blog today after church sometime:MOTHER, MAY I?I can garden, just like you-Mother, may I?Look, my hands are dirty,black smudges on my face,forehead sweat-streaked, andmy seeds are planted too!I can garden, just like you-Mother, may I?Look, I watered them,poured lots of water all over them,gave them to eat and drink sothey can grow big and strong!I can garden, just like you-Mother, may I? Look, so pretty,I picked them just for you,these flowers that we grew,God and me and you!I can garden, just like you-Mother, may I?

  2. Randomly, I wrote a poem about rain today before I knew your prompt. It is a cranky poem, though. Elena, I just may glue your Graduate Student's Lament to my laptop. ❤ Earth's CommunicationThe rainBrings news of painOf cosmos’ every thoughtIs writ upon the stain of turfBefouled.

  3. Southern StormsAir hums with an electric tint; dry grounds cracked in anticipation. Stretched outon the porch, I wait: limbs loose,head tilted back, one foot soothing back and forth, back and forth the anxious pup on the step. Both of us ready.Goosebumps awake along my arms,like memories of rain that has not yet fallen, tree branches sway with the weight of anticipation, anticipated rain.There's a soft swish-thump of a tailmarking time between heat lightning's hello.And thunder rolls. And the train comes. And for a moment, we don't know the difference. But dustturns to clay, staining my soles red beneath my feet. Tail caked and tucked Pup scoots beneath my knees, and I close my eyes, waiting to fall asleep to this,while light and shadows sketch premonitions of dreams."Dust" in the third stanza should be at the end of the line above it, but can't seem to work it out that way in the comment box…

  4. Water GirlWhen I was a child, too young to work the fieldsbut eager to be of use, my mother made me watergirl, in charge of filling mason jars from the pumphouse faucet where the water was coldest,and walking it to the fields up the hill beyond thepond, hemmed in by woods—that field that I couldhardly see from the house. Four and determined,I filled two quart jars to their slippery tops, each slowJostling step sloshing and spilling my load. Slow orfast with frequent stops and adjustments, I left a trailof muddy splotches, my bare feet covered with dustymud pearls. By the time I arrived, my family wasoverdue for their break, and I stood soaked to the skinwith water and sweat, with scarcely half of the waterleft in the jars. Normally, they would have laughedat me for being useless, but thirst turned them meanas they accused me of drinking it all, seeing well thatI wore it like an indictment.My mother only looked at me, her eyes remeasuring,then she asked my slightly older sister to accompanyme this time, and suggested caps on the jars, jars ina basket or bucket, and this time some cookies too.Then she hugged me and told me not to blame mysiblings for being hard on me. “You see, everythingneeds water to live,” she said, “every plant and animal,and people too. Water is life, and that makes your jobthe most important of all.” I cried going back down thehills to the house, only partly because I had failed her,but mostly because I had not known that I was carrying life.

  5. HarbingersStrands falling yellow-green,Striping browns with golden sheen,Brushing grounds dotted with goldClumped bouquets for child’s hold.Rain’s dappled puddles hiss,Display results of frog’s kiss,Wriggling shadowed fat-tailed spawn,Soon grow legs, jump dawn.Peeking green blades sun brightAnnounce a coming old sight,Pansies, dogwood, and mushroomsSummer’s insane rush looms.

  6. Happy Mother's Day!Rain on MeThe desert placeA place of wanderingAloneThe desert placeA place of thirstingParchedThe desert placeA place of dyingBarren Rain on meGreen up my soulLet it be a place of lifeGrowth, refreshingFellowship, laughterNot a desert place

  7. I had this double sonnet already on hand, and it fit the prompt, so I just shined it up a little:Rain… RainRelentlessly the icy rain swoops down.The sodden earth, refusing, cries "No more!Have pity on your prey. I weep; I drown.Please show me now your mercy, I implore."New blossoms break; brave daffodils are bent,Their sunny faces pressed into the mud.Sweet pansies shredded, cheerful petals rent;The apple trees now mourn each frozen bud.But rain beats wings against the wintry gale And stretches talons, needle-sharp and cruel.We find no refuge from her keening wailNor have we any respite from her rule'Til sun, her master, calls and she obeys.Now hooded, tamed, she broods on stormy days.Caressing, soft, the gentle rain creeps down,Now purring figure eights around our feetAnd nuzzling cheeks. The shadblow dons her gownWhile patient tulips fold their petals, neat.Narcissi bow, so graceful, heads now weighedBy raindrops beading there like short-lived pearls,And grasses wear a shine on ev'ry blade.The glad earth drinks; the peony unfurls,And rain comes dancing, watching flowers preen.A playful tickle from her whiskers, thenShe's hiding and emerging, seen, unseen,And running catlike over field and fen,She's gone. The sun emerges, but with cause To be suspicious: kittens have their claws!

  8. “June on the River”Old tennis shoes Scruff up dust on a Country road and matteBack inner tubes float Along a lazy river, Hovering over hopeful Fishing hooks. As the sun sets, and the World’s lit up only by Starlight, fireflies, and Campfires, laughter Floats through the Darkness and soothing Breezes carry a whiff of Burnt marshmallows. And in the night, the Crickets croon and Rain tings and chinks on the Old tin roof. And it’sSummer.

  9. Wind and rainListen, you whisper, I hear it coming,Words wide-eyed thrilling into the still air.The slow crescendo of a distant crowdRushes towards us through the ripened grainWhere we drop our brushes in the rich loamLeaving the ladders swaying. Don’t think now.Faster than a breath, the curtain rings down,Clouds dipping, swirling, and I am the windTo you in the water, holding you upAs you exult, tearing open the sky.

  10. Summer Sprinklers Tiny drops tickling her shoulders,spraying her belly.Her arms flung wide hugging the water.She dances.A blur of drenched hairas she twirls around the water spout;pink polka dots whirring.The sun kissing her face,browning her delicate skin.Green grass massaging her bare feet. She glances my waytiny fingers beckoning.And we giggle as wefall to the earth andsmile at the blue sky.

  11. To Walk On WaterShe sits alonein a forgotten cornerunnoticedwith every accomplishmentminimizedwith every accoladeunworthywith every giftembarrassedwith every complimentsinking with every blowto her lowself-esteem,but she would walkon waterif just onceher father said,“I’m proud of you.”

  12. I'm not sure how to make the indented sections here, in the comments. So I'm posting it "as is", followed by a link to my blog post. There are also some "process notes" there…I'd be interested in your feedback! :)MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE…ONCE FULLa river of tears releasedinto his handkerchief, his tiny initialsembroidered in its cornershe breathes in deeplyas the evaporation of the mistmakes the water visible before hergrief supersedes reason,she reads her words one last timebefore she slides them into the bottle:this bottle, once full,serves as a reminderof how empty my life is without youyour words, you usedto knead my wounded soul,no longer echo in this worldyour touch, you usedto melt away my fears,is no longer felt in this worldyour love, you gaveto cleanse my picture of self,is no longer given in this worldthis bottle, now filled with my words,serves as a reminderthat my life can be full once morewith a final whisper of goodbyeshe watches as water and seaweedtug at her words…and her heart2011-05-08 10:20 p.m.P. WankenMessage in a Bottle…Once Full~ Paula Wanken

  13. I may try another, but this was a "wet" one I'd already put to paper (or Blog). Will also include a Mother's Day poem, my 9 year old wrote for me this year.Spring has sprunga leak.Drizzles and downpourscreate lakes in the yard.Puddles can makestaying dry very hard.Temperatures still wafflingat night pretty low.Guess I'll be glad the rainisn't snow!~Kelly Donadiohttp://livingfourreal.blogspot.com/A Mother's Day PoemFlowers are bloomingit's time to shineI love you so muchbecause you are mine.~Claire Donadio (age 9)

  14. Well, I thought I posted this once, but it didn't appear. My apologies, if it shows up twice.This is a "rain" poem I wrote for my blog sometime ago. I may give the prompt a new try before the week is up.I am also posting a Mother's Day poem written by one of my daughters for me this year.Spring has sprunga leak.Drizzles and downpourscreate lakes in the yard.Puddles can makestaying dry very hard.Temperatures still wafflingat night pretty low.Guess I'll be glad the rainisn't snow!~Kelly D.http://livingfourreal.blogspot.com/A Mother's Day PoemFlowers are bloomingit's time to shineI love you so muchbecause you are mine.~Claire (age 9)

  15. Not sure if my attempt at concrete will work…                    We                  blink                a levee              of lashes            into a bridge         over liquid eyes,     a troubled awakening   in pools of bitter brown borrowed from elemental  seep in puddles waiting     for the deep pour of         broken waters.

  16. OF TIDESWordless wonderas you swirl, dip and eddy,invisibly following the current round and swishback to where my toes are found hungrily searching the tide's stopping point.Olive-green seaweed marks place of your coming and going.Broken bits purple shells, translucent glass, salted mystery. Concrete layersproof of your presence.Tidal rushand retreat.WordlessI wonder.I had trouble posting yesterday. Did any body else? Any way just curious. Happy belated Mother's Day to the mothers in all of creation.AT THE HEART OF ITThe mother in brothertenderly caring, playing.Mother in father as he gently rocks, sculptshis baby's face with uncountable kisses.Instinct in all of us that turn our hearts softcompassionate toward others.Unseen creatures of naturebringing forth young.Seed bearing plantswith promise for tomorrow.For there's a bit of mother in the heart of all. ©2011 Hannah Gosselin

  17. Perspective I am happy that I livein a place wherethe rescue of ducklingsfrom a storm drainreceived the same headline asthe burial at sea ofa mass murderer.

  18. ~Marie I love, "I drought he knew!" Fun play on words. Warm smiles to you.~Amazing umbrella, Walt. :)~Jane your poem was so touching and vivid, love this image: "I left a trail of muddy splotches, my bare feet covered with dusty mud pearls." And the deep underlying meaning. ~Elizabeth, so sweet, I can almost see her face. ~Laurie, heartbreaking, written beautifully.~Katie, this line speaks to me: "Goosebumps awake along my arms,like memories of rain that has not yet fallen…" :)~Catherine Lee, creatively concrete, I love the words you used and the alliteration. :)Such an honor to read all of everyone's words. Thank you and smiles all @!

  19. Me: "So what do you think about when you think of water, Caiden?"Caiden: "Swimming with bellies and fishy tails….(long pause)."Me: "What else do you think of when you think of water? Colors or…"Caiden: "So I want to get a tank to put a starfish and jelly fish and cwabs or no starfish a cwab and jellyfish and fish and ahhhh ummm…and ah another fish. So I like that, so I want one. Lets play cars!"Looks like we're going to see a salt water fish tank in our future! Nemo here we come! Haha Thought I'd have some fun and get my toddler help me write a poem! 🙂

  20. After the Rainby Juanita Lewison-SnyderFor monthswe prayed for rain,looked up into a gloom parched skylike recovering alcoholicsdesperate to sell our souls for just a few mere dropson the outstretched tonguesof surrounding landfall.From Colorado to Kansas,Oklahoma to the Texas panhandlea drought ravaged the countrydividing a nation.Large swirling dust storms repeatedly scoured the earth,then tossed like fish bait toboth the Atlantic and the Gulf.Ranchers and farmerstook turns pointing fingerswhile hundreds died from the heat.Millions more took to the roads seeking relief only to be exploited,while pristine wilderness areasbegan the painful process of embalming.A once proud and mighty nationsoon reached the serrated edge of ecological and economic collapse.And when it finally came,ten long arid years laterthose first precious dropletsof aqua pura a hundred thousand ransoms had paid dearly for,man once again rose from the dust,adam and eve paraffin'sbut without souls for theyhad been stripped awayalong with topsoil long ago.By the time anyone noticed,the room had already been emptiedof such brine myths thatnobody remembered if rains had ever followed the plow.It would not be the last timeman chased after false gods.© 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  21. Awaken Water ChildAwaken water childResiding in the depthsHair like kelp in currentParts dancing rays of sunBooming voice soft spokenLike waves within a caveFlowing mystic garmentsThe ripple of the wavesAwaken water childOn current now brought fourthBorn to sea and wave BourneTides part the dark blue seaSet your feet to shorelineYour timeless thoughts made realAwaken water childResiding in my soul

  22. Heehee! Thanks, Sweet Hannah! I'm glad you caught the humor, and didn't think it was just an error. That, and the "pour," instead of "poor" — might have been a bit too subtle, and thought of as an error. 😉 Cloaked Monk: Sounds like you are speaking from experience! Post away!Wow, we have TWO concrete poems, and a double sonnet! I'm feeling mighty blessed around here, people. Keep 'em comin'!

  23. A Farewell to DustShe thought him as ancient as marblebut that's where comparisons endHis face weathered and roughwith whiskers that scuff whenhe rubbed his cheek up against hersShe touched a long lingering line carved from his nose to his chindeep as the cracks in the fieldwhere years ago corn used to grow as high as the top of her head Now dust swirls collecting in your earsdriving its way up your nose and eating a meal means chewing on grit as it races its way through the nightpricking and prodding at dreamsHe talks to her of times long ago stories that seem like tall-talesof the scent of pure green of a colour called pink of roses and clover and rainI remember, he'd say, the sound of raina sound she'd never heard for herselfHe said it was a sound like that clown's flat-soled, oversized shoes, the one that chased her as she ran from its reachI remember, he'd say, the sound of rainpounding the top of my head cooling my skin after a long hard day's work. It pounded like a hammer on soap, he'd say, and it'd make you bend over and hide from its weightBut now only dust and wind filled the air the clouds emptied of everything but dust There was no rest for him here, so God called him back home, a dark day when the sound of rain falling was once again heard as they all cried their final farewells.

  24. Flow The ache for lake is so physical she can taste its fairied spell hear the fabled stories it longs to tell. The notion for ocean runs through her very veins saltwater and skin poised to dive be born again. The drink of ink allows her to remain fluid even on dry land with finned and metered feet so hungry for sand.

  25. Had a hard time posting earlier in the week. Am giving it another try.Although not about rain, this scene is forever etched in my mind when anyone mentions being wet.Unwillingly WetJust a toddlerexploring her surroundingsGIGGLING!Hot tub bubbling something floating out of reachSPLASH!Gazelle-like speed One hand Herculean strengthRESCUED!Accidental diver, instinctual rescuercrying, breathless,SOAKED! The scent of chlorine, the salt of tearsit never felt so good to beWET!~Kelly D.http://livingfourreal.blogspot.com/Am also adding a Mother's Day poem I received this year:Flowers are bloomingit's time to shineI love you so muchbecause you are mine.~Claire (age 9)

  26. Sea of HeartsYou and me and all we see.And everything we will ever be.Eternally in ecstasy.We feel the beauty in being free.We are the water that is flowingIn the river of this world.We’ll travel onward to awaiting destiny.We are but droplets in the pools.We’ll flow along as nature rules.We seek to live in happiness, peacefully. Our purpose and our mission never clear.We yearn to flow into excitement and not fear.We bind with others as we need,for our peaceful souls to feed.We’ll grow a fruit tree from the droplets of a tear.As we stream along in rhythm on this sphere,the currents move us all from over there to here. We do our best to do our partIn the sea of all the hearts.We’ll stay true to our course and those so dear.by Michael Grove

  27. The Quintessential FarmerA proud man, pride in the landthat he's worked his long life.Steady, serious eyes balancethe boyish smile lines that broadenlike waxing and waning curves, a set of open and closed parenthesis,lines deeply set in happier timeswhen he walked the fieldsto the rhythm of the rain.

  28. Blogger had been experiencing difficulties since the 11th. Some were unable to post or comment. Hopefully it has been rectified. This is a test post to check the viability of the site.

  29. Hannah Gosselin: "At the heart…"- sweet and true!Misk Mask: last 2 lines to "The Quintessential Farmer"- poetic eleganceWalt: "Umbrella Smiles"- Very thought provokingMarie Elena: "Cry Me a River"- just great- a well-written, pun-filled, quick-witted lament!Here is my belated attempt. I almost gave up as it was too late but the prompt has stayed with me over these past days… and I was encouraged by all the other posts.Pitter-PatterPitter-patterRain drops fallOn the garden of my soul.Pitter-patterFootsteps fallOn the garden of my soul.Pitter-patter…Pitter-patter…Through hackneyed,Repeated days;Same old tasks,Dull routine.Dear Sender of these dripping drops,Show me the worthof all these simplistic,mundane days…Pitter-patterNew life growsIn the garden of our lives.Pitter-patterFlow’rs unfurlIn the garden of our lives.

  30. Benjamin ThomasHi folks at Poetic Bloomings! The last two weeks I have fully intended on posting to the sunday prompts but to no avail. I have a feeling to post the last prompt if permissible. Will return later.See y'all

  31. Good morning, all! Thanks, Walt, for filling us in on what the problem has been.Susie T: Thanks for your kind words. "Quick" wit is misleading, though. My wit is not quick — it is painstakingly slow. 😉 Thank you for commenting on the work of others here. Love that spirit, as well as your offering for this week!Benjamin: Good to see you out here! Post whenever you can, always feeling free to flit through previous weeks. This evening Walt will be posting our picks for this week. As with last week's prompt, I'm having a difficult time choosing. You guys rock!Keep 'em comin'!Marie Elena

  32. P.S. I know there were at least two poems that were lost when blogger went down. We do NOT want to lose poems. If you know you posted, and no longer see your poem, please do post it again for our enjoyment. Thank you!Marie Elena

  33. Me again. I just don't want anyone to miss the poem by 9-year-old Claire. And not just because she's my little cousin.=)In only our second week here at Poetic Bloomings, we have both adult and children posting, and represent the following countries: Canada, Bulgaria, Singapore, Germany, Mexico, Australia, France, Spain, United Kingdom, and United States! Oh, the wonders of the internet! Don't you just love it?Marie Elena

  34. Difficult to pick a favourite, so I won't. I love this new site, with such un-prescriptive prompts. You drop a word into the poetic machine, cogs whirr and out comes a huge variety of inspired poems. Thank you,ME and Walt.

  35. Thanks for starting up this blog Walt and Marie Elena! So fun to be here!Early Morning RainThe gentle tattoo of the falling rainlulls my slumbering brain,my body floating in between sleep and complete wakefulness. Until bright lights flashlike camera bulbs,penetrating my still closed eyelidsand the answering boom of thunderbrings me forward to consciousness – My lips curve in a sleepy upward arc,as I sigh, stretch and snuggle back downto listen to the steady beatof the falling rain.

  36. Thanks Marie for the updates and salutations.As Marie has stated, our second week has stretched our accomplishments here in "the Garden" to a wide international scope. It is our hope that the trend continues in a spirit of comaraderie and community. I will be postingthe "Beautiful Blooms" for week #2 shortly.This week, we will introduce Web Wednesday which will highlight the blog/website of one of our esteemed gardeners (followers). Watch for it.Also on occasion, we will post an "In-form Poet".We will present a poetic form for your consideration and information. More of a tutorial for some of the lesser known or invented forms.

  37. thought I had posted this on Wednesday. Might have gone away somehow…Sea of HeartsYou and me and all we see.And everything we will ever be.Eternally in ecstasy.We feel the beauty in being free.We are the water that is flowingIn the river of this world.We’ll travel onward to awaiting destiny.We are but droplets in the pools.We’ll flow along as nature rules.We seek to live in happiness, peacefully. Our purpose and our mission never clear.We yearn to flow into excitement and not fear.We bind with others as we need,for our peaceful souls to feed.We’ll grow a fruit tree from the droplets of a tear.As we stream along in rhythm on this sphere,the currents move us all from over there to here. We do our best to do our partIn the sea of all the hearts.We’ll stay true to our course and those so dear.

  38. Hi Mike! So glad you caught it an re-posted. As Walt explains above, Blogger has experienced some problems. We lost more than one poem here. 😦

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