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Rain...
It falls softly in some places.
It falls loudly in others.
Like the blames,
stained on windows,
flung into the eyes...
Like a playful pool fight,
the water may sting,
eyes that may burn,
you have thought,
of others,
like you think of the past,
nostalgia clinging,
like drops to a window,
it can slide off,
dripping with anticipation,
or from great effort,
crossing a wide river.

Wallowing waiters,
waiting for others,
bide time for tomorrows.
Docking at docks,
looking at clocks,
balancing books,
glances and looks,
a pin drops in open silence.

The air is fresh,
dust settling on shoulders,
dancing in light,
beaming through rafters,
echoes of music,
lingering laughter,
arching back,
breathing through a smile.

Falling, spinning,
through scenes and memories,
the morning emulsifies,
shaken by the light,
shone from the window,
opening eyes,
glaring bright,
holding tight,
onto a fading memory.

Dampened soil and a warm hearth,
stinging air and warm blankets,
one night ago,
a morning later.
I guess I was inspired to write it when listening to this on repeat:

I like the poem a lot. It elicits in me something unrequited - the feeling you get when you want to so badly connect with someone, but you realise it may not ever be possible with them, but you don't know whether it's distractions or their baggage or your own that prevents a connection from forming... so much left unknown.
Thank you very much. I am rather shy so this is also an attempt to break out of my shell in this forum.


The feeling you described sounds liked one I am familiar with. There was an animated series about this alien race that lives in pairs. The main character gets killed, and revived but tied to or possessed by a single one of these entities.

The entity really struggled with life as a human without it's pair, and existing as a shell or fake of the former human.

The show really moved me sometimes as I feel a similar longing to get to know someone more than it is physically possible. The character in the show struggled immensely in longing for it's pair, and I kind of envied it to have had such a close connection with someone.

I remember missing someone dear to me when falling asleep only to realize I have no recollection of anyone like that.

If you're curious, the show is called Kurau: Phantom Memory.
(02-12-2018, 02:01 AM)Desynched Wrote: [ -> ]Thank you very much. I am rather shy so this is also an attempt to break out of my shell in this forum.


The feeling you described sounds liked one I am familiar with. There was an animated series about this alien race that lives in pairs. The main character gets killed, and revived but tied to or possessed by a single one of these entities.

The entity really struggled with life as a human without it's pair, and existing as a shell or fake of the former human.

The show really moved me sometimes as I feel a similar longing to get to know someone more than it is physically possible. The character in the show struggled immensely in longing for it's pair, and I kind of envied it to have had such a close connection with someone.

I remember missing someone dear to me when falling asleep only to realize I have no recollection of anyone like that.

If you're curious, the show is called Kurau: Phantom Memory.

I would feel this way too sometimes, like my expectations were too high for 3D relationships, and I thought this was due to echos from past lives where connections with other people were a lot more intense, like having a telepathic link... or I could just be weird  Confused

Thanks for the show reference. I'll check it out.
You have to more creative in my opinion. poetry evolove..
Sometimes adding indentions, like empty space can add some to the timing of it.
e.e. cummings would do that. He is probably my favorite poet, though I don't know much of his stuff.
Some of my own style outside of my book I wrote in his style.
(02-11-2018, 07:19 PM)Desynched Wrote: [ -> ]Rain...
It falls softly in some places.
It falls loudly in others.
Like the blames,
stained on windows,
flung into the eyes...
Like a playful pool fight,
the water may sting,
eyes that may burn,
you have thought,
of others,
like you think of the past,
nostalgia clinging,
like drops to a window,
it can slide off,
dripping with anticipation,
or from great effort,
crossing a wide river.

Wallowing waiters,
waiting for others,
bide time for tomorrows.
Docking at docks,
looking at clocks,
balancing books,
glances and looks,
a pin drops in open silence.

The air is fresh,
dust settling on shoulders,
dancing in light,
beaming through rafters,
echoes of music,
lingering laughter,
arching back,
breathing through a smile.

Falling, spinning,
through scenes and memories,
the morning emulsifies,
shaken by the light,
shone from the window,
opening eyes,
glaring bright,
holding tight,
onto a fading memory.

Dampened soil and a warm hearth,
stinging air and warm blankets,
one night ago,
a morning later.

very nice, bravo
Thank you. I'm kind of shy about poetry because I know I am inexperienced at it. Smile