Manchester by R.A.D. Stainforth ~ courtesy by Tess Kincaid
Spring back on the streets
pop up attitude
piercing the clouds…
Umbrella –
my little moon,
my shelter;
me – move
measuring shadows
on the urban pavement;
You – climbing
impalpable
on each rainy string
in search for open portal
of tears and precipitations, -
perception not added
to taxes, bills, forms…
the billow covers
existence,
the fiery call
I hear on distance
the song pattern
drumming in crafty
repair frame…
I sing it to stay
in presence
of rain.
by Brenda Warren
Read more at: Sunday Whirl, Magpie Tales
Shared with PU Poetry Pantry
Not added to the bills as they have no thrills. A song sung
ReplyDeleteOn each rainy string- spring enters! You did well with this list!
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ReplyDeleteI always like the smell of rain!
ReplyDeleteVery nice poem, nice.
Beautiful response to the prompt.
ReplyDeleteoh the worries of life. some things even the rain cant wash away
ReplyDeleteThere are no strings on this - well done
ReplyDeleteThe excitement of theses words to the prompt are just right. The way it feel on a rainy Sunday walk…
ReplyDeleteThanks for invitation, MMT!
ReplyDeleteLove the passionate ending and specially this part:
ReplyDeleteUmbrella –
my little moon,
my shelter;
poetic indeed !
ReplyDeletei love a good rain.. love the image of the umbrella as little moon and the open portals...
ReplyDeleteI love the metaphoric umbrella moon...
ReplyDeleteAn achievement to add the words all together in the first place but you have certainly delivered here. Well done.
ReplyDeleteA very moving piece, indeed!
ReplyDelete