After the Rain...
an imposing, unadorned wooden cross
driven like a stake
through the back of a tree-encrusted hill
variations on the theme of green
alternately riotous or serene
veering into fields, golden-haired
with hardly-drawn houses embedded
by the hands of three or five-year olds,
seldom seven
all encased in a mountainous, bounteous sky—
inverted mirror image of country slides, below
moving mauve lands and snow-capped clouds
rain lacerates window pane
streaming down lashes
streaking its face
everything glistens with afterbirth, colors are reborn
writing as a form of afterthought, a sort of secretion
collecting consciousness from rolling hills and trees.
© Yahia Lababidi
Rain is always refreshing.. Its like washing the old poison with new spirit..!!!
~ Christina
Poetic way of putting it (sometimes, tears can feel that way, too.) ❤️
thts true.. :)
A rain storm changes the world in miraculous ways, before, during, and after:)
Superb write, Yahia:)
Agreed, rain washes away old impressions, and gives us life, anew, in case we missed it before :)
Cheers, Pryde ✌🏼
I love this poem! It's very thoughtful in the pure aesthetics, but also what makes the aesthetics aesthetically pleasing.
Thanks, buddy! I was trying to compose an impressionistic painting, using words. Glad to hear that it worked for you :)
The rainy season is the best in the entire year. Nice poem 😄
Thank you :) Yes, it can be quite Romantic, from a train. (But, also a bit of a nuisance if you live in the tropics ;)
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I like this poetry 😍
Very nice poem!