Summer Rain

National Poetry Writing Month

Writing prompt: Summer rain

summer_rain_by_sugarock99-d2y7w1c

Image source: Summer rain by SachaKalis on DeviantArt sachakalis.deviantart.com

 

Blisters and burns, achingly trail
Through the soft inner molds of me.
Simmering, trying to reach for
The night sky, a canvas
Dancing with want.

Come to me, caress the folds
Of my lips, my April skin,
A pitter patter song on my roof
And let us rain,
Silver liquid drops.

We crawl in and out
Of rooms, the damp walls
Sing a lullaby
Amid the squeaking and
Wild cacophony.

I know not why
I dip my wings,
Treading through this
Wild, momentary anarchy.

Let me lay bare,
Soak in
This mad song of
The summer rain.

Lopa Banerjee. April 2015

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Musing

 

All my insomniac nights,
Sharred, love beckons,
Hovering ghostly, possesed.
In your wrenched, blood-spilled heart
I rain down, a torential monsoon
Flowers lingering in sensual sweetness,
The rustle of my musings brush past you.

I have unzipped myself, undone you,
My rusted, forlorn poems.
In the looming, barren room,
My fingers crawl up to you,
Fumbling, lost, I mutter
My virgin dreams,
Blotches of clumsy pain,
Seeped in your skin, tickling.
And then, we part silently.

All these broken, frail days
I have wronged you enough,
Cracked open your ribs,
Tasted your gashes
In my own inner void.
And then, ditching you
Was known, customary.

I have soaked in
Your stuttering breath,
Licked up your dried blood,
Broke open, with your pain today.
As we write down our verses together,
Our lunacy sings, flutters, wordless.

Note: A letter to my old, forgotten, forsaken poems, on the occasion of the World Poetry Day.

The Birdsong

love-birds-wide

Image source: Pixgood.com

 

Flapping, fluttering wings, the birds twitter, chirp
The murmur of their love songs–close, afar.
The twilight sings as they anchor their kisses,
Unspoken words deepen, darken,
In the moist mouth of the night.

Together, they dig into the rough flesh of the night.
In the deep blue of its waves,
They break and sink, hunting down
The deep, dark hours, falling, frenzied.

The night nurtures their songs in the wind
As they swirl and twirl, burning, stroking, kissing,
Up above the river beds, the petals
Of the dawn unfold.

They squat, unzip, lying
In surrender to the slender,
Definitive daylight. The light, drunken, gleeful
Carves the braids and pleats, the saffron
And milk, the contours of our unwritten verses.

In the virgin dream of the morn, they swim
Tender, green, floating in the morning’s womb
Like unnamed embryos. The light of words
Christen them, drop by drop, glittering, looming.

Drop by drop, our verses rain and dance, rekindle flame.
We melt together in our steep, aimless flight.
Our kisses sprout from the edge of the night,
Bleeding, entwined, yet never letting go.

Between This Life and the Other: The Rain

dark rain

Dark Rain. Image Source: imgarcade.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do my dirty walls rain, still?
Dots imprinted on dark leaves, scrawling,
Pressing their heads to the crushing dust of human pain?
Do the fingers still dig into
The dark, unfathomable whole,
Beneath the ribs, the pain, stark dead, burning?

Do the primal clouds of monsoon jump in puddles, still?
Longing to steam, to cry in small streams,
Ripples and kisses, running down, the deluge
Slitting throats, trampling my primordial breast?
I have seen the skin, blood, bones
Of the rain, hung on to thirsty fingers
Licking the pickled salt of a fleshy pain.
Is it mine, still?
Forgot its name since we last held hands.

Does it still rumble, growl inside,
The billowing cloud-fire, the necklace of grief?
The night, jumping, leaping, sticking her tongue out
For one last dance, entwines me,
Stumbling over, as I listen to mourning ghosts,
Moving around, in circles, the earth
A whisper of sprinkled ashes of pain?

The smoke, a translucent fusion,
Do I drink it whole? The murky waters
Ruminating on the slumber-buried drone of pain.
Do I shake it off like old dust? Here it comes back
Peels and hums amid grinning, littered rain.

The bird rests beneath the rusted bricks and walls
The flash of cool light, of rain, long gone.
The heart of the wind beating amid the dead leaves in rain,
I stand, smothered between the damp walls,
Breaking and sinking, birdlike, aflame, drowning.