POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – IT’S RAINING, AGAIN (OUTSIDE): INTERVIEW WITH PEARL KETOVER-PRILIK

July 24 – It’s raining again! I told you it would! (And of course it’s raining OUTSIDE!) But, this time you’re caught outdoors in the storm. Do you run for shelter? Seek refuge in a clearing in the rocks? How about dancing in the rain with reckless abandon? How do you deal with the inevitable rain? Write it here!

 

STAYING ON THE TRAIL

July 23 – YOUR AREA ADVENTURES

July 22 – CAMP DANCE; SUMMER ROMANCE

July 21 – SCAVENGER HUNT

July 20 – RENAISSANCE CAMP

July 19 – AMPHIBIANS, ARACHNIDS AND REPTILIANS

AND IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY DONE SO, READ MARIE’S INTERVIEW WITH THE INIMITABLE DR. PEARL KETOVER-PRILIK AS THEY DISCUSS HER BACKGROUND, POETRY AND HER PROCESS, AND A (FICTITIOUS) LITTLE GIRL WHO HAS TOUCHED HEARTS.

THIS IS THE LINK TO THE INTERVIEW!

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71 thoughts on “GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – IT’S RAINING, AGAIN (OUTSIDE): INTERVIEW WITH PEARL KETOVER-PRILIK

  1. flashpoetguy on said:

    YOU WERE SAFE

    When the rains came
    you were safe in your cocoon
    hanging from the oak branch
    impervious to the elements

    I heard first the thunder
    across the mountains
    and wondered if
    I would survive

    You closed yourself
    to the whipping winds
    the flash of lightning
    the roar of sky sounds

    I hid my cowering self
    in a crawlspace
    and prayed fervently
    this too would pass

    You pretended yourself
    a tinkling wind chime
    trading music with nature
    dreaming butterfly dreams

    #

  2. flashpoetguy on said:

    RAIN LUNE

    tears of sad angels
    tumble down
    from handkerchief clouds

    boomings of thunder
    God’s loud voice
    chastising mankind

    but the flowers
    know better
    They call the rain “grace”

    #

  3. flashpoetguy on said:

    WE CAUGHT THE SUMMER RAIN

    we threw our heads back,
    opened our mouths,
    and caught the summer rain.
    we pretended drops
    were the wafers
    of our Sunday masses
    or manna from heaven
    or footsteps of angels
    alighting on our tongues

    #

  4. Blessed Rain

    Two miles out in a four mile hike
    Break time in a shady spot
    Sun blazing down relentlessly
    Man, it’s way, way too hot
    Counselor says watch the water
    Need to ration whatever we got

    Break time over, on the way back
    Be glad to get to the camp
    Sweaty and tired, going is slow
    Then Jimmy’s leg catches a cramp
    Quick break to rub out the muscle
    Jimmy’s up, he’s such a champ

    Only a mile to the camp now
    Large open field to traverse
    Clouds block the sun rather quickly
    Seems that our hike has a curse
    Clouds open up; it’s a downpour
    Lighting makes everything worse

    Drenched to the bone in just seconds
    No sense in running ahead
    Our bodies were being rejuvenated
    The downpour was cooling our heads
    Slowly we walked through the torrent
    Enjoying the blessing from overhead

    © 2014 Earl Parsons

  5. SOGGY SUPERSIZED STROLL

    We were already lost,
    in itself a high cost to pay.
    Camp was so far away.
    Then a light summer spray began.
    Not a part of our plan,
    sudden winds made a fan with drops
    pulling out all the stops.
    We were soaked from our tops to shoes.
    Nothing left we could lose,
    moving forward we’d choose to run,
    but with no sense of fun,
    to the place we’d begun (we’d hope).
    Down a slick, slimy slope
    in a brown, muddy soap on shale,
    fighting urges to wail,
    we got back to the trail at last.
    And if ever we’re asked,
    rainy day hikes this vast are quashed.

    © Susan Schoeffield

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  7. More Than We Bargained For

    We went hiking
    but a got a wee bit lost
    or perhaps turned around
    from too much staring at the ground.

    It was getting late
    but spirits were high
    we were explorers
    and adventure was nigh!

    So we kept trekking
    hoping the end was near
    but then it began to rain
    and our way was even less clear.

    After a moment of startled dismay
    our explorers started to play.
    They started to dance
    and sing in the rain…

    until the thunder came
    and ruined that refrain.

    Then came the lightning
    and we took shelter
    under a rocky overhang
    and then out came the stories …

    the gods were bowling,
    no having a war,
    just moving some furniture
    or cleaning the store.

    The stories went on
    becoming more outlandish in size
    but a potentially scary moment
    became a pleasant surprise.

    The storm abated
    and we headed on our way,
    we finally made it back to camp…
    the very next day
    with tons of stories to give away.

  8. Release

    Sodden skies, spongy clouds
    fingers of fog shroud
    the hills, the valley, the lake
    a parched earth’s thirst is slaked.

    The building tension of feverish heat
    shattered in the booming beat
    of roiling, grumbling thunder
    allaying her twitchy fidgety slumber.

    Calm has permeated vale and mount
    with the eruption of this fount
    and she sighs a contented sigh of reverie,
    listens to the heaven’s refreshing melody.

    • WmPrestom on said:

      The three stanzas recall the presence and passing of a summer thunderstorm. I especially like the “contented sigh.”

    • I love your opening and the description of fingers of fog…I especially love the “she” in your closing…could be you sighing…could be Gaia herself. Beautifully written, Debi!

  9. Another Rainy Day

    Not a violent twisting of the clouds
    From which we’d flee
    No shattering of branches
    No lightning-fractured trees

    Today, a glimpse of nature’s
    Benevolence, only a whispered breeze
    Pulled down by gentler clouds,
    A routine watering of all who dwell
    In this forest scene
    A sprinkling, a patter of large leaves
    A gentle washing, safe enough to stroll
    About and admire –

    An all day wetness when evening
    Will find us gathered at the fire
    Toasting s’mores and telling tales
    Of ghostly vengeance and murderous
    Rage and frustrated desire.

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  11. DESCARTES RAIN DANCE

    I am out in the rain,
    therefore, I think that I am wet.
    If it gets any more violent, I will relent
    and run for cover. But I’m a lover
    of a good rain shower. It can rain
    for hours and the flowers will be
    the better for it. I do not abhor it.
    An eighty percent chance that rain
    would come. Odds were not good;
    it surely would rain. But then again,
    I will take the chance. I’ll hear the rhythm
    of the rain and dance. I think I am wet.
    Therefore it is raining stronger.
    I hope it rains much longer!

  12. Darlene Franklin on said:

    DRIVING THROUGH THE CLOUDS

    Mountain tops pierce the clouds
    Rain leaks then turns the spigot
    Water falls from sky buckets
    The road disappears in the mist
    I cannot outrun the rain
    I accept the gift, arms raised high
    Mouth open to slake my thirst
    A shower in my clothes
    Cleansing me inside and out
    I dance and water spurts skyward
    Rain runs in rivulets
    Down the bank, to the creek,
    Joining the rivers and lakes
    That sustain life

  13. William Preston on said:

    MAKING THE BEST OF A WASHOUT

    It’s raining outside, and the rabble
    inside are erupting in babble.
    To deal with this tizzy,
    we’d better get busy
    and set up some tables for Scrabble.™

    copyright 2014, William Preston

  14. Priti on said:

    Rainy Play

    ON A RAINY DAY

    All of a sudden, out of the blue
    shadows looming ominous hue
    Jupiter’s rumbling grand emissions
    fireworks of a master magician

    Who is sobbing, way up high
    tapping sonnets from the sky?
    we may run like ‘scardy cats’
    but yonder someone’s up to bat

    Crowds of clouds are cheering on
    booms of roaring victory songs
    laughing tears of raging storms
    how can we be so forlorn?

    There goes Zeus’s magic wand
    circles green, for nesting ponds
    trees are wailing tears with tweets
    cliffs, just paralyzed by breeze

    Nature, dressed in a powerful armor
    forces us to stop our clamor
    reminding us of whose in charge
    as we humbly push our barge

    Soon it’s bored and loses speed
    disappearing through the reed
    now drenched we have no other choice
    but to steep this raining voice

    And, as the rain just needles on
    what’s on earth tries staying strong
    we paint ourselves in muddy earth
    and fill its wetness in our mirth—

  15. Deluge

    Someone up there turned on the tap
    and pulled out the plug,
    to unleash Niagara on an unsuspecting world.
    The ants scurried hither and yon
    in search of shelter
    under the coverlet of a leafy haven
    and dryads danced with naiads
    in an ecstasy of nature.

  16. Pingback: Collecting Raindrops | Metaphors and Smiles

  17. Collecting Raindrops

    I’ll count the ripples in puddles
    number the miles in seconds
    between lightening’s flash
    and the next set of rolling thunder.
    I’ll drink deeply of petrichor,
    the aroma of dry stone and earth
    indulging its thirsty turf –
    a sufficient soak provokes
    an inimitable scent,
    one that’s potent with memories.
    Past rainstorms linger in this odor –
    running through pooled water,
    standing to gaze at the bow of colors
    arching high in the somber sky
    and it brings back evening walks
    made suddenly more dynamic
    as large-round-drops-plop heavily,
    hurdling from gray to ground.
    They pronounce their sacred names
    on our skin and create geometry –
    concentric circles on pond’s surface
    causing it’s once still reflection to erupt
    into synchronized choreography.
    Ringlets and wrinkles reach to loamy edges
    where I stand remembering all this rain
    relishing the smell and counting ripples.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014

  18. (Poem w/image: http://lettheballoonssailmeaway.wordpress.com)

    Salvation

    The lightening flashed
    the thunder rumbled
    the clouds burst open
    And the rain poured down

    A prayer, just then
    hushed, quiet
    Silently spilled out.

  19. Brain Drain (a limerick)

    With campgrounds all muddy with rain
    We are stuck in the muck. I complain,
    My clothes are all wet
    But can’t welsh on a bet
    We are halfway across Lake Champlain.

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  21. connielpeters on said:

    Rafting

    It rained while we rafted
    Pattering through the leaves
    Clouds covered hot sunrays
    White waters carried us
    Cool wind caressed my face

    It rained while we rafted
    As guides shouted orders
    Our captain made his calls
    We squealed, laughed and hollered
    And avoided the falls

    It rained while we rafted
    While we worked as a team
    We aimed to stay the course
    At times we succeeded
    But sometimes met with force

    It rained while we rafted
    We were wet anyway
    Water splashed as we’d spin
    And sprayed from the boulders
    At times we tumbled in

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  24. janeshlensky on said:

    Rain Caught

    It’s lightning that worries me,
    not thunder, not rain, not reasonable winds.
    We discuss our choices during the pitter pat,
    crossing grasslands during a storm.

    That’s right, no choices. We are getting wet.
    If we try to shelter under plastic,
    we will still get wet being unsuccessful.
    I’m a deer, I say, a cow, a hawk—

    animals that brave storms by reveling in the rain,
    letting it comb their fur and feathers and sooth their bites,
    animals that let rain wash them clean as a rainbow.

    Our clothes grow heavy and cold, stuck to our frames,
    and make us itch. Stripped to our skivvies,
    let us swim through drizzling air, bathe in sky tears.

    Let us celebrate the smell of ozone after rain,
    the bird chirps and insect hallelujahs.

    We head to the lake to watch water greet water,
    dive under the sprinkles and float face up to sky,

    the last spit-spat of the storm a kiss on our eyelids.

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