i know the rain falls somewhere
so slowly and softly
upon the awakening ground
where flower petals
a rosy velvet tenderly reach out to feel
the coolness
of the spring shower
bursting forth from darkened skies
where the sun
has run and hidden
behind the mountains
boldly rising from valleys below
from hence
the waters flow endlessly
giving new life
to a once barren countryside
now singing songs of joy
as it endures the burden
of being in a time of unforgiving harshness
for the cruel cold northern winds
whisper, clinging
to the mountain edges
as icy fingers grasp holding on
to the numbing reality of feeling
so unfeeling without knowing
what it is to be loved in the sense
of receiving care and warmth
while never having to give
the same in return
and
yes
time in essence grows older
and the hands
on the ancient time piece
have grown old and bent
and no longer hold
onto the truth
as it has so tirelessly
time after time
devoting its very purpose
to telling without revealing
then revolving into a reverse
systematically suspicious
way of doing what appears
to be normal
although somewhat
unorthodox pragmatic play
upon which the religions of a few
feed in a frenzy
devouring not only flesh
but the very souls wandering
lustfully and aimlessly
across the time traps and fires
burning a freezing thinly veiled open field
where dorothy once ran amongst the poppies
on her way to oz,
sadly, the clouds cried
blue silvered tears streaking down
window panes in the houses
deep inside the mushroom forest
where it is safe
to dream any desired dream
to awaken to total and complete darkness
no eyes will never see
but ears will pick up the sound as
the rain falls somewhere
so slowly and softly
upon the awakening ground
where flower petals
a rosy velvet tenderly reach out to feel
(9-21-1974)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow wonderful expression. I love this style.