Sonny Rainshine Poems

Thorned temptress
dressed in a shift of dusty pink,
wide-eyed Irish rose
rambling, reaching
...

I wonder if only wild animals and children
experience the spontaneity, the ka-boom,
the rush of everyday living. And if so,
can I retrieve the gift, the youthful largesse
...

If I had your eyes,
I’d have the vision of a mystic.
I’d be generous; I’d be kind.
...

Now show me a picture of pain,
the child said to his mother.

You are not ready, she softly said,
...

White hot snowball fight,
a coy moon the referee:
...

Just like bindweed
and the dandelion,
you keep coming back,
perplexed that everyone
...

It was when I drove by your house
and noticed that you had never taken down
the Christmas decorations
that I first understood what had happened to you.
...

Rippled like the red dunes
of Oman, patterned by thirsty wind
that meanders serpentine
like a cobra,
...

The pain around his shoulder blades,
bursitis, his physician had declared,
was rather the strain of maturing wings
pushing against the dermal wall
...

How we hide it, our fear.
In vaults inside vaults inside vaults,
and under our eyelids even.
...