Pray For Rain by J.A. Grier
Brown and brittle dirt, heat and dry
Pounding and relentless days of searing sun and sky
Lost inside this constant sandy hue
This perfect deadly sky, so very blue.
I kneel in the dust and pray for rain.
A feline growl of thunder lifts my eyes from the ground
And the sky is filled with clouds from all around
Deep and dark, courting mountains on the distant line
The air grows thick with breezes from a cooler time.
Slowly, then with vigor, the rain rushes down
Enrapturing the desert with its driving sound
The landscape cries with pleasure as the thunder roars
Drops embracing every feature as the water pours.
Char
Young Autumn - such a gentle, sleepy beauty
That cozies up in nippy arms of breeze;
And when the wind is acting rather moody,
She gifts him with bouquet of golden leaves.
She sports a pretty dress of amber daylight
And harvest wreath adorns her scarlet hair.
She loves to bathe in pool of early twilight,
While pondering which starlight studs to wear.
And hearts of hearths are easily ignited
Just as she glides past homes of tired streets.
Upon their glow, she's girlishly delighted,
And leaves by doors some pumpkins as a treat.
They sing
Moonlight romance
I look at you and see
Your heart a likeness to the moon
Silver
Barren landscape of lifeless dust
And melancholy craters
So silent and
Longing
maybe i'm a robot, try adjusting my programming by dietcocaine, literature
Literature
maybe i'm a robot, try adjusting my programming
i'm sorry for swinging at you,
it's just
i don't really know how to
accept affection:
surprise hugs and gentle kisses are
foreign currency in an
emotional economy driven by fear,
supported by love that blossoms
black and blue.
i'm sorry for screeching at you,
it's just
i don't really know how to
communicate:
the words get stuck somewhere between
the soft and hard palates,
sounds caught in limbo,
messages hanging from my uvula
like so many deflated party balloons.
and most of all,
i'm sorry for leaving you,
it's just
i don't really know how to
be happy.
on marrying medusa by towards-eternity, literature
Literature
on marrying medusa
so she
told me, hair water-
falling down over her
ship's deck shoulders, that
she would like to be
with me: we
could write stories, said
she.
i reached
out: empty
air; the ground splitting
beneath me into warring
factions and i
had been standing on the
17th parallel for
too many years now, as the
pressure escalated up, up, and
away
"you won't be happy,
with me," (her stainless steel
nails dig deep into
my serotonin skin as she
takes her place beside
me, distracts
me from the
fall) "no, you
won't be
happy," she
assures me, "but then,
again, you ne
Every Journey Has An Ending by sesam-is-open, literature
Literature
Every Journey Has An Ending
If I would have nine lives,
maybe in one of them,
I would smile to a star called Desire,
which appears from time to time on the sky of an unknown planet,
to make life brighter.
With eight lives, I would think I'm so rich,
that I would be able to find that wonderful legendary golden dragon
and with generosity,
maybe he would protect me from emptiness.
With seven lives,
I would be so proud by my beauty,
that maybe I would forget
that you can not live so long without having a doubt.
With six lives,
I would turn the ashes of the Universe in diamonds
and maybe all known or unknown eyes,
would see the light.
With five lives,
maybe