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Rain on me rain

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  • Rain on me rain

    An inch of cigar

    Burns stingily

    In the glass fish bowl

    Ash face after face

    Scries my crying story

    Two tea bags

    Bobbing like eyes

    Drowning, pleading

    My cup of tea

    I wasn’t born to be afraid

    Both feet flat

    Rain on me rain.
    Last edited by Sister Greed; 02-02-2018, 07:30 AM.

  • #2
    Nice... shorter lines delivered, but no rush to the tone. Sort of calming this morning. Some resolve here, right?

    Sometimes rainy days can be so beautiful, solemn ... but of course!

    Thanks for sharing... Fire and water, water overcoming fire.

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    • Sister Greed
      Sister Greed commented
      Editing a comment
      Thank you.

    • Sister Greed
      Sister Greed commented
      Editing a comment
      I always love your reads of my poetry. Thank you.

  • #3
    Is Ashe right? Ash. Ashen.
    Read, savoured and riffed on.

    Two tea-bags
    standing strong,
    picking up
    when it goes wrong,
    cold for calming
    smoke strained eyes
    tears claimed
    as rain disguised
    not drowning but waving
    life's prizes goodbye.
    Last edited by Johntee; 02-02-2018, 06:58 AM.

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    • #4
      No you were not Sister. Your writing keeps you and us very much alive and grounded.

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    • #5
      This speaks to me Sister.

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      • Sister Greed
        Sister Greed commented
        Editing a comment
        That pleases me ATL!

    • #6
      I've taken 3 tries at deconstructing/ reconstructing this piece
      and as with your previous pieces am still left with alternative reads
      Is the fish bowl a fish bowl with its abandoned cigar? (with scrieing it might be the gypsy's crystal ball
      with the mists slowly clearing, telling a lonely future.) An enjoyable arc from sorrow to standing strong.

      Comment


      • Sister Greed
        Sister Greed commented
        Editing a comment
        Ah the fish bowl. A thing of vision. A vision trapped. Being bedridden, the glass ashtray, (like a corporate boardroom is sometimes called the fish bowl), tells a story only the way its contents move. Thank you for taking so much time to read my poem.
        Last edited by Sister Greed; 02-07-2018, 02:03 PM.

    • #7
      As Johntee alludes above - this speaks to me of quiet strength. Facing "what is" and that last line almost even seems a welcoming dare to adversity, as in, you've done your best world and I'm still standing. Or else it's a cleansing of all that came before? Care to enlighten further Sister Greed ?

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      • Sister Greed
        Sister Greed commented
        Editing a comment
        I think that amenOra gets the tone, resolve, and what I hope is “quiet strength.” But that I’m left flat footed waiting to be cleansed, hmmmm...really references a life lived in fear. Mine.
        Last edited by Sister Greed; 02-07-2018, 02:01 PM.

    • #8
      S.G. To hear you suggest you have lived a life in fear is chilling and lets me read the piece entirely differently. I guess this would be the root of your poetry and its’ striking use of simile and metaphor? There are cruelties in the world it is more comfortable to ignore than examine but our inattention doesn't make them any less present. I hope that the catharsis of writing is part of your healing.

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      • #9
        I like the pace and feel of this and yes I get quiet strength but like John that you have had a life lived in fear is chilling I too hope there is healing here

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        • #10
          I'm late to this but see the hope and defiance of the 'I'm still standing, bring it on attitude' A deep and hopefully a cathartic write

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