Rain Poems

Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
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Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
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There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
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The rain is raining all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.
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Suddenly, from all the green around you,
something-you don't know what-has disappeared;
you feel it creeping closer to the window,
in total silence. From the nearby wood
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Like the touch of rain she was
On a man's flesh and hair and eyes
When the joy of walking thus
Has taken him by surprise:
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My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
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Suddenly this defeat.
This rain.
The blues gone gray
And the browns gone gray
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You come to me quiet as rain not yet fallen
Afraid of how you might fail yourself your
dress seven summers old is kept open
in memory of sex, smells warm, of boys,
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call it the greenhouse effect or whatever
but it just doesn't rain like it used to.
I particularly remember the rains of the
depression era.
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Let it Rain!

Be willing to be kind
Be willing to be true
...

rain comes rain
rain wets my pain,
wets my dust of gain,
cleans my walking lane,
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rain rain
rain rain the sorrows on them
rain rain
rain rain the squareness away
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The rain is crying for the love that it lost across the Milky Way.

Looking on Jupiter the rain holds the sound barrier with each drop of tears.
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Rain
Monsoon rain
I love your arrival
Your coolness
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hot sun in June, parched land and no rain
dust-storms, clouds in the sky and no rain

cattle cud under shades, no sight of rain
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"Aw…It's raining outside", the young boy said. "I wanted to play on my swing…"
"The rain is stupid…I hate it…It ruins everything".

"Don't cry about the rain." Mom said. "Don't be angry..I beseech you! "
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One of life's simplest moments: the approaching of the first few drops of a summer rain. That it was coming, all along, and had been predicted since mid-morning, by neighbors pointing to the dark western sky, and by the agitation of robins, and the unusual silence of cicadas - all that was conceded, and understood, while the rain itself would be welcomed, for it would cool the trees and the houses and the grass, and nourish the creatures of the earth in its invisible and lasting way.

Certainly it was expected, and yet as I sat there reading, being drawn into a faraway world, I had entirely forgotten the roof and the porch, and the parched streets, and even the increased tempo of the wind blowing through the trees - and suddenly there it was, that sound, those drops scattering, nothing overwhelming, just the announcement, the presence, of rain come at last.
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Copyright © by Nikhil Parekh

All rights reserved. No Part of this book publications may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, Electronic, Mechanical, Photocopying, Recording, Print or otherwise, without prior permission of Copyright owner and Author, Nikhil Parekh.
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