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Sprinkles Of Thoughts, Splashed On The Page.

Updated on November 29, 2009

A collection of poems about rain.....Enjoy



her words brought thunder to my heart,
which bolted crooked in my chest,
and condensation gathered quickly
on white orbs to cloud our eyes
it was raining on two souls
when love was washed into the gutters
where the curbs of life intruded
and dampened passion with a sputter.

MFB III 05.03.2004

~~~~~~~ + ~~~~~~~


it's raining parenthesis
in shades of yellow
they fall into place....

In the barbershop
parenthesis are raining
with a clip pity clip
snip pity, snip sound
as tiny golden curls
toddle and tumble
from the head of a
first hair cut
smiles wrap around
a lollipop as the
scissors separate
the many particles
of youthful exuberance
from a seldom calm head.
(((()())((()(())(())))-MFB III

Weathering the storms

It's raining here today
on a world with almost
three thousand less souls
then when it rained 8 years ago
today it's just condensation
a tear for every one of them
and all the rest
of us who remain
thunder rumbles
and I see that smoke again
two candles burning
high above New York
on the fat of humans sacrificed
in the name of Allah
whose head is turned away
from the sins of those who credit him
for their murderous offerings
there are puddles here now
reflecting my grief
there were puddles of blood 
8 years ago
reflecting the insanity
of unguarded shores and skies
We stood behind a Bush
and those who tended him
men making the calls
that would bring retribution
and re-election of course

or so
they hoped
when it was all done.

I walk in from the rain
sadly shaking my head
unprotected from it's downfall
realizing how unprotected
from our own downfalls we all are
until we take measures
to weather the storm

my seven year old
leaps off his bus
and runs like a mob of one
through my front door
to the shelter of my arms
and I hold him tighter then usual
cause it's raining here today
in the skies
and on my face
Tears for what is yet to come
tears for all he may inherit
trickle down
in a stream of consciousness
that stains my shoulders
with its weight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III

14 kt. Mud

shoes wedged in puddle
muddy footprints point the way
child shivers like the last leaf
in an autumn storm
freshly waxed floor
marred by mother earth
muddy socks slip slowly
along the black vinyl
of the jumbo trash bag
steam curls up like
inviting fingers from
the hot tub
toes dip ever so slowly
into the molten H2o
smug smile stretches
across tousled head
of clean and warm buoy
suddenly bathroom door
flings back and shadow
looms ominously
mom holds out shoes
and soiled socks
lost and refound
she shakes her head
drains the water
face drained too
from a too long day
drops the shoes and socks
into the bath
removing the boy
cleans the soiled footwear
then tucks in the
considerate but sneaky
boy she bore
mops the floor again
as he dreams of wrathful
moms and quicksand timeouts
just a day in the life
of one divorced with child
her shoes stuck in
the mud of despair
that won no release
a warm bath for her
reveals a hungry body
that needs more attention
then soap and a washrag
more excitement then
six year old tricks
legs waxed as smooth
as the floor
she just cleaned
body still wet
with the virility of youth
fingers bring relief
then sleep brings a
dreamless state of bliss
till dawn do them part
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III
after the tears fall

ugly....slashed feelings
hanging over the closed line of life
never really drying
due to the reigns of grief
that prevail
just trying to air them out
so that they can be
separated from the true feelings
still left untouched in one's heart
stains that are only erased
by the warmth of forgiveness
but it's cloudy again
and the forecast is for overcast
and gloomy days ahead
ugly lashed feelings
pinned tightly
to a heart string stretched
to it's breaking point
the chill winds howl
and tug upon them
trying to break them free
and scatter them
without a care
to make room for
the weight of more
feelings heavier than these
piles of feelings
not yet aired
damp...damned and cold
they merely exist
sitting huddled like bent old men
in the mustiness
of love's basement
bleeding the colors of what was
down the drain forevermore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III

untitled excerpt

In a cool cave that lies beneath
long water falling
two embrace in a hollowed place
where centuries of blending
took place
bodies flowing together
in much the same way
as the water tumbles
sprays of liquid making
flesh slippery
and the roar of the gushing torrent
drowns out the songs of passions rush
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III
After The Rain:
Oh, that we as dandelion fluff could sail
high above our stationary, mundane world
carried on the winds of chance
traveling at ten, or twelve

smiles per-haps an hour
over hundreds of miles
to free-fall......
onto a fertile spot
and bloom with all our majesty in
a Lion's mane of sunlight, warmed yellow
bursting over the fleshly turned furrow
lingering long, and growing roots there
Earth and skies entangled
in a blue blue... emerald blur
as all around about a garden of delightful creations
blossom fervently and verdantly
with multi-colored tapestries
that enhance and enchant us all
oh to just be fluff
sailing at the whim of the winds
with fate as our rudder
and love as our map...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`*~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III

Summer leftovers.

the leaves
are backstroking
down the driveway's lane
in the rivulets of rain
each has one leg
sticking high
in the air
as they sail
together on a kiss
from Isabella
released too soon
these summer leavings vanish
in a raging turbulent stream
that washes the curbed channel
and carries the colors of
the fall like liquid paint
over the palette of
the sewers grate and
into the bowels
of the earth
the trees raise their bare
arms in distress
tanned brown
from the long hot summer
they are now ill-equipped
for the wintry blast due soon
tumbled birds nests lie
like bad wigs
tossed aside
in a bald move
by middle-aged men
declaring the end of
their feigned youth
the air is damper
and slightly chilled
like the basement at
my grandmother's house
cobwebbed and cluttered
with leftovers canned in jars?
summer has run off with spring
to someplace south of me
I am rooted here without it
what I have to look forward to
is all of it's leftovers
covered in white
preserved in the crisp cold
until they can be
savored in the next thaw.
~^~~~~^~~~~^~~~~^~~>~~~~<~~^~~MFB III
Vacation Daze
I stood beneath a waterfall today
and let its turbulence hammer my flesh
like the massage of ten thousand massive fingers
working out the kinks in my back
realigning...reshaping... re healing the muscles
that I've abused for most of my days
when I stepped out from beneath that torrent
into the steamy...sun drenched lake before me
I was renewed..invigorated as the day yawned on
with even more positive things to partake of
someday I too will float away from the drudges
and splendour of this life in which I live
and as I ascend upward to my final rendezvous
It will be days like this in this paradise on earth
that I will recall..and look forward to
on a more permanent basis
if I have earned the rite of passage
to God's heaven above the dome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III
on the fourth of the seventh to honor them (July 4th,)
It was cloudy
and the world
was growing dark
British reign
was sure to fall
upon them all
But they found the men
who could lead them
on the paths that follow freedom
so they went to fight
but there was such might
twas sure the British would beat them
It grew colder
and men began to die
you could hear
the women cry
all across the land
Then freedom's powers took command
and drove the British to the sand
And a shout went out
on that happy day
the people danced with glee
Oppression was a buried threat
America was free
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~1976-MFB III
world's asunder

It's quiet here now
just the tapping
of these keys
and a bit of mournful rain
on the window pane
but in Baghdad
bomb blasted to hell
the shudder and thunder
the fire and flames
a world torn asunder
babies wail and Mommas
cower in dark corners
children shiver
and cry for daddies
who are melted into puddles
of remorse forever
dogs run panicked through
the cratered and shelled streets
and howl at the intruders
that remain unseen above


excerpt from "Dusty windows of time"
Playing house was easier
when it was only make believe
and mud pies tasted
a whole lot better then crow.
snowflakes were edible delights,
falling prey to
waiting tongues extended
raindrops made puddle-licous stages
where bare footing
Fred and Ginger Juniors
danced lightly across
rainbow-tinted oil slick water
and memories were much fresher
then these stale recollections
now squatting in the cupboard of my mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III
welcome to drizzyland

Grey skies above
with more gray moods below
the only bright spots
are the sun yellow parkas
scattered round as the rain falls
on each uncovered place
beneath vast yards of plastic
in happy face yellow
huddle damp grumbling masses
sad eyes hooded in shadows
in an all day long downpour
getting soaked for their tickets
cause it's raining on their dimes
as it cancels parades
now they feel like a Dumbo
looking ever so Goofy
spending hundreds of dollars
forty more....(four rain parkas)
nature's slipped them a mickey
their days pleasure is Minnie
"But Hey.....
"Welcome to Drizzlyland!"
were you wish that Jurassic
was a wee bit more dry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB II

All is well with love

Allow me to rain on you
sprinkling passion in wet kisses
and spattering showers
across your fertile plains
as your eyes close to the soft patter
of my lips and tongue expressing
all of your hardest needs into softness
the well will be overflowing
as the thick rope pulls in and out
buckets rising and falling
till all are refreshed as
the sighs echo from within
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III
statuesque poetess in the rain

Myra tall beneath the curves
of an umbrella spread
like a pastel mushroom
waits in drizzled splendour
beneath inhabited boulders
of the cityscape drenched
her eyes scan between
the wind whipped droplets
hoping soon to be plucked
up from the dampness
and gently cradled
in the salad of
her lovers arms
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III
April showers smiles

children grasshop
through the needles
of ice water
as it tumbles
giggling eight notes
from a spring song
never caring
where the rain's from
as they dance
with their reflections
in the puddles
freshly gathered
for their bare feet
to explore
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III`

Anniversary of tears

It rained
when my momma died
in the heavens
and on my face
a raincoat and Kleenex
where my closest friends
bringing memories of
all those times
she wiped my tears
and buckled my slicker
to keep out the wet
sealing it all
up with a kiss
each thought of this
kept a small smile
on my face
while my heart bled
it still rains
about the
same day every year
on my face and
sometimes in the heavens
so I slip into my raincoat
with the pockets stuffed
with Kleenex
just old friends
to help me
as I walk with
memories of
love lost
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III

Overdrawn in march

I've got a rain check
but I can't cash it
for any amount
it's a hot and arid day
and the skies are not accepting
any incoming clouds
seeking to deposit
some fresh spring scents


What hangs on the closed lines of all poets

all the laundered
and the stained wardrobes
of a poet's mind displayed
sometimes "All" is used
sometimes "Cheer"
often one must "SHOUT" it out
white sheets flapping
in the breezes
of time
etched with marks
that nights of
dreams have left
ink stained and blotted
pencil smudged and
onion skin thin
a basket of moments
with hopes pinned high
against the pale blue skies
on the closed lines of the 

poets where readers can gaze
upon  anothers
washed out thoughts
putting a spin on them
feeling the blues
tinting with hints
bleaching out the errors
with an edit cycle
offering encouragement
to keep the closed/lines
heavy with weighted
words...worlds... and whorls of color
do not hamper these thoughts
post them on lines stretched
between your peers
and let the sweet smell
of soft sunny whispers
and rain drenched tears
flow over them again and again
then file them away
behind the glass drawers here
that hold our most precious
and well worn emotions.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III

On the membrane of a bubble freshly blown

birds sing, bees hum, children squeal
tires whir, trees sway,to the winds whistle
puddles plink-plunk, sneakers squeak
babies coo, old men creak
rain goes rat-a-tat-tat, umbrellas whoosh
cats howl, cars growl, socks go squoosh
the sun beats down, and the thunder rumbles
a rainbow bends colors into gasps of delight
nature speaks, and I stand silently in awe
at this concert around me
a balloon escapes..........
from a three year olds sticky fingers
like spring it is a bag of essence
blown into a color, and tossed gaily into the air
till it pops sprinkling confetti everywhere
spring uncoils in a long lazy length of green
polka dotted with dandelions
birds land on a clothesline
to drip dry from the recent rains
cow tipping should only be twenty percent today
the rest should be stiffed and then grilled slowly
they only add black and white to fields of green
I have a sudden taste for medium rare, and soft pink
charcoal blackened in horizontal stripes
it's a silly moment, spring fever rages
and nonsensical ranting prevails,
even poets fall prey
to the enchantment of a sunny day
prematurely granted... I dance nimbly and
I tiptoe lightly through each puddles refractions
seeing a younger me reflected from bygone days
I am floating in a rainbow membrane
of a bubble freshly blown
sailing high above the snows just melted
to bask in future suns



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