The air smells like rain:
That indefinable scent of a freshly
Laundered Earth -
Lathered, rinsed, conditioned
To spin
Tumbled and waiting to be dried out
In the mourning sun
That cries for heat
And daylight beats
Upon sodden strips of
Earthly scum.
The air smells like rain again!
Refracting lamplight
Through tiny prisms
That condense and expand
Heavy near the bottom,
Not able to keep their
Tear drop shape
Falling singly
Then forming a lake.
The air smells like rain again.
I don't know what to do.
It reminds me of that
October night.
The black slickness
Of Washington
and
The washed out
Memories
Of me
And you
And you.
The air
smells
like
rain
I burn the incense in my jar.
Sandalwood and mirth
To disguise the
Bloodied
Scars.
I think I actually prefer reading them out. It is a flaw in my writing that reading the poems aloud adds to them, perhaps. I am just a frustrated musician. Thank you for commenting, always good to see you.
The emotional scars of yesterday are clearly reflected in you words…your reading adds dimension to the verse.
I think I actually prefer reading them out. It is a flaw in my writing that reading the poems aloud adds to them, perhaps. I am just a frustrated musician. Thank you for commenting, always good to see you.
Slpmartin is right! Reading the words give more emphasis on the meaning. You sound professional, great job.