Drought And Potatoes
The rhythmic rise and fall of swinging hoe,
Red rising dust that coats his arms and legs
And all for spuds that without rain won't grow;
Each plant with wilted leaves to heaven begs
Here on this barren hilltop where the gaze
In all directions shows the blasted earth,
And from the sky, the scorching searing blaze
Of sun that robs the land of all its worth.
Like tombstones stand the forest giants now dead,
All strangled by the pioneer's ringing axe;
They cast no shade upon the digger's head
As from the dust, the stunted crop he sacks.
A fence is strung from one dead tree to next,
‘Tis all that says this patch of earth unique;
Around it lie the bones of death perplexed;
The logs and limbs - the past that cannot speak.
He stops to rest, his back to dead wood pressed;
A cooling drink, a humble meal of bread,
Then back he goes to carry on his quest.
At each day's end the path to home he'll tread
As on his weary shoulder go the spoils,
Hard wrung from tortured soil that cries for rain,
As day on day for scant reward he toils.
A farmer bred - so used to meager gain.
Queensland 1968
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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Related quotes
Monsoon Woes II
Nothing to set
Summer apart
Fading monsoon dreams!
Scorching sun
Dripping sweat
Awaiting rain!
Sterile cloud
Pricking heat
Rain holiday!
Reptiles crawling
Spewing hot venom
Respite sought!
Hot vapours rose
Still thirsty, sun gulped rain
Humid heat returns!
Drought gets sprinkled
Like arid seeds and dust
Darkness around eyes!
Sun stomps
Grass seed bud and beetle
Mud cakes'dirge!
Baked earth
Dry eyes
Silent mourning!
Clouds collide
Empty vessels cling clang
Wrinkled earth, lost!
Dust in the eyes
Dust in the ears
Dust in the hands!
Storms do rise
Not on the sea
Of dust on earth!
From cracks of earth
Crawl reptiles upwards
For cool respite!
Yesterday's dead dog
Lies baked and stiff
None to care!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Hiroshima Child
I come and stand at every door
But none can hear my silent tread
I knock and yet remain unseen
For I am dead for I am dead
I'm only seven though I died
In Hiroshima long ago
I'm seven now as I was then
When children die they do not grow
My hair was scorched by swirling flame
My eyes grew dim my eyes grew blind
Death came and turned my bones to dust
And that was scattered by the wind
I need no fruit I need no rice
I need no sweets nor even bread
I ask for nothing for myself
For I am dead for I am dead
All that I need is that for peace
You fight today you fight today
So that the children of this world
Can live and grow and laugh and play
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Tommy's Dead
YOU may give over plough, boys,
You may take the gear to the stead,
All the sweat o' your brow, boys,
Will never get beer and bread.
The seed's waste, I know, boys,
There's not a blade will grow, boys,
'Tis cropped out, I trow, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
Send the colt to fair, boys,
He's going blind, as I said,
My old eyes can't bear, boys,
To see him in the shed;
The cow's dry and spare, boys,
She's neither here nor there, boys,
I doubt she's badly bread;
Stop the mill to-morn, boys,
There'll be no more corn, boys,
Neither white nor red;
There's no sign of grass, boys,
You may sell the goat and the ass, boys,
The land's not what it was, boys,
And the beasts must be fed:
You may turn Peg away, boys,
You may pay off old Ned,
We've had a dull day, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
Move my chair on the floor, boys,
Let me turn my head:
She's standing there in the door, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Take her away from me, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Move me round in my place, boys,
Let me turn my head,
Take her away from me, boys,
As she lay on here death-bed,
The bones of her thin face, boys,
As she lay on her death-bed!
I don't know how it be, boys,
When all's done and said,
But I see her looking at me, boys,
Whenever I turn my head;
Out of the big oak tree, boys,
Out of the garden-bed,
And the lily as pale as she, boys,
And the rose that used to be red.
There's something not right, boys,
But I think it's not in my head,
I've kept my precious sight, boys, --
The Lord be hallowéd!
Outside and in
The ground is cold to my tread,
The hills are wizen and thin,
The sky is shrivelled and shred,
The hedges down by the loan
I can count them bone by bone,
The leaves are open and spread,
But I see the teeth of the land,
And hands like a dead man's hand,
And the eyes of a dead man's head.
There's nothing but cinders and sand,
The rat and the mouse have fed,
And the summer's empty and cold;
Over valley and wold
Wherever I turn my head
There's a mildew and a mould,
The sun's going out overhead,
And I'm very old,
And Tommy's dead.
What am I staying for, boys,
You're all born and bred,
'Tis fifty years and more, boys,
Since wife and I were wed,
And she'd gone before, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
She was always sweet, boys,
Upon his curly head,
She knew she'd never see't, boys,
And she stole off to bed;
I've been siting up alone, boys,
For he'd come home, he said,
But it's time I was gone boys,
For Tommy's dead.
Put the shutters up, boys,
Bring out the beer and bread,
Make haste and sup, boys,
For my eyes are heavy as lead:
There's something wrong i' the cup, boys,
There's something ill wi' the bread,
I don't care to sup, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
I'm not right, I doubt, boys,
I've such a sleepy head,
I shall nevermore be stout, boys,
You may carry me to bed.
What are you about, boys?
The prayers are all said,
The fire's raked out, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
The stairs are too steep, boys,
You may carry me to the head,
The night's dark and deep, boys,
Your mother's long in bed,
'Tis time to go to sleep, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
I'm not used to a kiss, boys,
You may shake my hand instead.
All things go amiss, boys,
You may lay me where she is, boys,
And I'll rest my old head:
'Tis a poor world, this, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Anzac Square: What The Digger Said
Said the Digger: 'Soon forgot! Soon forgot, the deeds of war.
Better so, may be. . . Why not?
Beauty fades and laurels rot;
Last year's roses are no more.
Fame?' the one-armed Digger said,
'What of glory when you're dead?'
'Stone and brass,' the Digger said. 'Stone and brass: tho' these endure,
Marble flaunting o'er my head
Would be dead, as I'd be dead.
How may any man be sure
That the hearts of men shall hold
Memories of tales once told?
This alone I surely know: earth I am, and earth shall be,
Only Mother Earth can show,
When I go where all men go,
Aught of this that had been me.
Mother Earth, once stained so red,
She must know,' the Digger said.
'Would you raise, in braggart heaps, stone, cold stone, to mark the fame
Of full many a man who sleeps
Where the earth of Anzac keeps
Guard o'er legions lacking name
Plinth and pillar reared to show
Pomp and pride they cannot know?
'They ask no portentous pile, boasting to a heedless sky,
Stirring men a little while,
Subject, then, for sigh or smile,
Not for this do soldiers die,
With our passing let Pride be,
All we ask is Memory:
'Memory of such fair worth as a fighting man may claim,
And a plot of hallowed earth
In the city of our birth:
Earth that bears a hallowed name.
Let it be envisioned there:
Anzac worth in Anzac Square.
'Memory,' the Digger said. 'If so be the city judge
Soldiers worthy, who have bled.
Worthy of her love, the dead,
Shall the city, then, begrudge
One wide acre of her soil
For who saved the whole from spoil?
'Here, it may be, by God's grace, our son's sons may sit at last,
In the People's market place,
Knowing truly, as they trace
Memory of me long past,
'Tis enshrined forever there:
Anzac worth in Anzac Square.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Dead Man, Dead Man
Uttering idle words from a reprobate mind,
Clinging to strange promises, dying on the vine,
Never bein able to separate the good from the bad,
Ooh, I cant stand it, I cant stand it,
Its makin me feel so sad.
Dead man, dead man,
When will you arise?
Cobwebs in your mind,
Dust upon your eyes.
Satan got you by the heel, theres a birds nest in your hair.
Do you have any faith at all? do you have any love to share?
The way that you hold your head, cursin God with every move,
Ooh, I cant stand it, I cant stand it,
What are you tryin to prove?
Dead man, dead man,
When will you arise?
Cobwebs in your mind,
Dust upon your eyes.
The glamour and the bright lights and the politics of sin,
The ghetto that you build for me is the one you end up in,
The race of the engine that overrules your heart,
Ooh, I cant stand it, I cant stand it,
Pretending that youre so smart.
Dead man, dead man,
When will you arise?
Cobwebs in your mind,
Dust upon your eyes.
What are you tryin to overpower me with, the doctrine or the gun?
My back is already to the wall, where can I run?
The tuxedo that youre wearin, the flower in your lapel,
Ooh, I cant stand it, I cant stand it,
You wanna take me down to hell.
Dead man, dead man,
When will you arise?
Cobwebs in your mind,
Dust upon your eyes.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The farmer
The farmer isn’t dead
the earth that he adores, still remembers him
where his wife is raped,
his toddler daughter also
where his house is burnt to ruin
still stand smoking after the mad plunder
he lies half burnt, with his face distorted
and who will ever bring justice here?
The farmer lifts his fists against the wind
stand blinded against the horizon
searches perplexed for answers that are still missing
tries to find judgement from the Almighty One
And the wind turns dust from the red ground,
the earth is also badly wounded.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Old Dust
The living is a passing traveler;
The dead, a man come home.
One brief journey betwixt heaven and earth,
Then, alas! we are the same old dust of ten thousand ages.
The rabbit in the moon pounds the medicine in vain;
Fu-sang, the tree of immortality, has crumbled to kindling wood.
Man dies, his white bones are dumb without a word
When the green pines feel the coming of the spring.
Looking back, I sigh; looking before, I sigh again.
What is there to prize in the life's vaporous glory?
Soldier standing on the rain
I’m the soldier standing in the rain,
Being paid cold, being paid illness,
At hours of darkness I don’t knock out asleep,
On the daylight I fear booms booming within the ace of me,
Fearing I might die for nothing.
Back home is a land of milk and honey,
Back home is what I may perhaps call paradise,
Back home is they are joyful and amused,
Back home they relax to sleep,
Back home they don’t be bothered a propos my family,
But me I’m here in the rain for them.
Timorous I may bite the dust for nothing,
Afraid I may let my foes comfortable,
Apprehensive I may implant my blood for laughs,
Frightened I may not have a mission, I may be futile,
Nervous I may, because nobody knows I am
The soldier in the standing in the rain.
I’m kicking the dust for nothing,
I’m living for zilch,
For people who don’t worry for me,
For inhabitants who don’t know me,
For citizens who don’t want to know me,
For public who won’t even be at my funeral,
For nation who don’t know a soldier,
I timorous I’m already in dead; I’m living only with flesh,
I’m the soldier in the rain
The author is a soldier dying for nothing and attention!
poem by Stephen Raseona
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We are the Children as we are the Dead
I am the rain as I am the storm
I am the leaf as I am the tree
I am the soil as I am the worm
I am the soul and I am free.
I am the bee as I am the hive
I am the ant as I am the hill
I am the corpse as I am alive
I am the birth as I am the kill.
We are the children as we are the dead
We are the free as are those that are bound
We are the children as we are the dead
We are as lost, we are as found.
I am the cow as I am the herd
I am the blade as I am the field
I am the whispering secret unheard
I am the farmer as I am the yield.
I am the nothing as I am the all
I am the rise as I am the fall
I am the death of spirit anew
I am the red the yellow the blue
I am the king as I am the queen
I am the plauge as I am the cure
I am the world as I am a dream
I am the secret of lusts sweet allure.
I am the wind as I am the earth
I am the sea as I am the fire
I am the songs the sirens may sing
Promising everything you may desire.
I am the fool as I am the crowd
I am the silence as I am loud
I am as heavy as I am light
I am as blind as I may have sight.
We are the children as we are the dead
We are the homeless that wish to be fed
We are the teachers of children at school
We are the children who break all the rules.
We are as one or as nothing at all
We are one throughout the fall
I am death and I am alive
I am the bee I am the hive.
poem by David Lacey
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Sad Oak
I’ve a sad story about a great oak that fell.
It now lies dead…a useless empty shell.
This oak once was the mightiest tree in this land,
Towering over others mired in rock and sand.
Its roots were deep and drank from rich soil
While others suffered in their unending toil.
Mighty oak’s trunk stretched toward the sky,
Unconcerned as the others continued to die.
Its branches held proudly to each healthy leaf,
Caring little of the forest’s deepening grief.
Why be concerned with this world of dying and weak?
They seemed to offer nothing the great oak would seek.
Then fate spoke to the oak, but its message was denied.
Suddenly climate started to change and the rains subside.
With no help from dead comrades, temperatures did soar.
Scant vegetation protected the earth’s life giving floor.
Had oak shared light, rain and riches of the land,
Sad oak and the forest would not be rock and sand.
So much had been given to this unique, mighty oak.
Sadly, its life ended before its spirit of giving awoke.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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When the rain drops fall on my head...
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I feel the greatness of the nature
When the heat on earth vaporized
Then the clouds above makes the rain
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I see the farmers are full of cheers
When the rain water roll on the ground
Then all the barren lands turns to green
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I see the rain water runs down the mountains
When the rain water preserved in the built dam
Then there is no poverty on the land
When the rain drops fall on my head
Then I know the God sends it for us
When we do not go against the nature
Then the rain drops fall on the earth for ever
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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The Epitaph In Form Of A Ballad Which Villon Made For Himself And His Comrades, Expecting To Be Hanged Along With Them
Men, brother men, that after us yet live,
Let not your hearts too hard against us be;
For if some pity of us poor men ye give,
The sooner God shall take of you pity.
Here are we five or six strung up, you see,
And here the flesh that all too well we fed
Bit by bit eaten and rotten, rent and shred,
And we the bones grow dust and ash withal;
Let no man laugh at us discomforted,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
If we call on you, brothers, to forgive,
Ye should not hold our prayer in scorn, though we
Were slain by law; ye know that all alive
Have not wit alway to walk righteously;
Make therefore intercession heartily
With him that of a virgin's womb was bred,
That his grace be not as a dry well-head
For us, nor let hell's thunder on us fall;
We are dead, let no man harry or vex us dead,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
The rain has washed and laundered us all five,
And the sun dried and blackened; yea, perdie,
Ravens and pies with beaks that rend and rive
Have dug our eyes out, and plucked off for fee
Our beards and eyebrows; never are we free,
Not once, to rest; but here and there still sped,
Drive at its wild will by the wind's change led,
More pecked of birds than fruits on garden-wall;
Men, for God's love, let no gibe here be said,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
Prince Jesus, that of all art lord and head,
Keep us, that hell be not our bitter bed;
We have nought to do in such a master's hall.
Be not ye therefore of our fellowhead,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Rain On Me O' Rain Rain Rain
o' rain rain rain
come rain on me o' rain
rain on every plant that grow o' dear rain
rain on every resource o' dear rain
rain to green the plants
the plants that of nature's decor
rain on us and never let go
quench my thirst; to get so
rain on me o' rain rain rain
rain for happiness and leisure
rain for our children to play
rain on the soil for us this day
so, we plant more food to feed us this way
go to the fields and gardens; same way
rain o' beautiful rain
rain rain rain
**extract from 'patterns of life' november 2011 ebook
ntema's unique poetry (nup)
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Alive
I'm wandering the town all light off
I don't know where I'm leaving for
The muddy rain start to fall on me
And I'm walking down to subway
I can't see all around me
Get me out of here
Talk to me if someone is in this darkness
I'm out of my head
Out of my mind
Tell me where I'm what's going on , oh please
Something is hiding me off
Is this the wall of my heart
I have been lost so many things I've got
For long time I've been searching for my way
I carry on, carry on ...
I'm so spiting to their ugly heart
to this so stood world
Everyday I forbear to fall the tears
don't wanna be down
Everynight hurt is so deep in my heart
Is this my life
Oh ! Show me please
The wall close to me
It's so painful. Stop it !
Is there someone to help me
Please get me out of here
Oh ! get me out !
Dead or alive, no place to run
Get it settled once and for all
Dead or alive, can't live in the past
only one way to live.
* Give me heart finishing blow
If I could only turn my back
Let me do screaming high
Squeeze the throes of death for me
It comes here the blame I'd done before
Fall on me as if it grow in my brain
The ugly side of myself tears me up
At this time I can't go back
Give my heart finishing blow
If I couldn't run from the past
Let me do screaming high
Disclose the feeling inside of me
Dead or alive, Can't live in the past
only one way to live
* repeat
The fight is over
the mad rain had gone past over me
blood is flowing down
tear is flowing down
Now I'm alive and I'm walking to town again
song performed by by X JAPAN
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alive
I'm wandering the town all light off
I don't know where I'm leaving for
The muddy rain start to fall on me
And I'm walking down to subway
I can't see all around me
Get me out of here
Talk to me if someone is in this darkness
I'm out of my head
Out of my mind
Tell me where I'm what's going on , oh please
Something is hiding me off
Is this the wall of my heart
I have been lost so many things I've got
For long time I've been searching for my way
I carry on, carry on ...
I'm so spiting to their ugly heart
to this so stood world
Everyday I forbear to fall the tears
don't wanna be down
Everynight hurt is so deep in my heart
Is this my life
Oh ! Show me please
The wall close to me
It's so painful. Stop it !
Is there someone to help me
Please get me out of here
Oh ! get me out !
Dead or alive, no place to run
Get it settled once and for all
Dead or alive, can't live in the past
only one way to live.
* Give me heart finishing blow
If I could only turn my back
Let me do screaming high
Squeeze the throes of death for me
It comes here the blame I'd done before
Fall on me as if it grow in my brain
The ugly side of myself tears me up
At this time I can't go back
Give my heart finishing blow
If I couldn't run from the past
Let me do screaming high
Disclose the feeling inside of me
Dead or alive, Can't live in the past
only one way to live
* repeat
The fight is over
the mad rain had gone past over me
blood is flowing down
tear is flowing down
Now I'm alive and I'm walking to town again
song performed by by X JAPAN
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Soul of the City Receives the Gift of the Holy Spirit
A BROADSIDE DISTRIBUTED IN SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS
Censers are swinging,
Over the town;
Censers are swinging,
Look overhead!
Censers are swinging,
Heaven comes down.
City, dead city,
Awake from the dead!
Censers, tremendous,
Gleam overhead.
Wind-harps are ringing,
Wind-harps unseen—
Calling and calling:—
"Wake from the dead.
Rise, little city,
Shine like a queen."
Soldiers of Christ
For battle grow keen.
Heaven-sent winds
Haunt alley and lane.
Singing of life
In town-meadows green
After the toil
And battle and pain.
Incense is pouring
Like the spring rain
Down on the mob
That moil through the street.
Blessed are they
Who behold it and gain
Power made more mighty
Thro' every defeat.
Builders, toil on.
Make all complete.
Make Springfield wonderful.
Make her renown
Worthy this day,
Till, at God's feet,
Tranced, saved forever,
Waits the white town.
Censers are swinging
Over the town,
Censers gigantic!
Look overhead!
Hear the winds singing:—
"Heaven comes down.
City, dead city,
Awake from the dead."
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Route March
All the hills and vales along
Earth is bursting into song,
And the singers are the chaps
Who are going to die perhaps.
O sing, marching men,
Till the valleys ring again.
Give your gladness to earth's keeping,
So be glad, when you are sleeping.
Cast away regret and rue,
Think what you are marching to,
Little live, great pass.
Jesus Christ and Barabbas
Were found the same day.
This died, that, went his way.
So sing with joyful breath.
For why, you are going to death.
Teeming earth will surely store
All the gladness that you pour.
Earth that never doubts nor fears
Earth that knows of death, not tears,
Earth that bore with joyful ease
Hemlock for Socrates,
Earth that blossomed and was glad
'Neath the cross that Christ had,
Shall rejoice and blossom too
When the bullet reaches you.
Wherefore, men marching
On the road to death, sing!
Pour gladness on earth's head,
So be merry, so be dead.
From the hills and valleys earth
Shouts back the sound of mirth,
Tramp of feet and lilt of song
Ringing all the road along.
All the music of their going,
Ringing swinging glad song-throwing,
Earth will echo still, when foot
Lies numb and voice mute.
On marching men, on
To the gates of death with song.
Sow your gladness for earth's reaping,
So you may be glad though sleeping.
Strew your gladness on earth's bed,
So be merry, so be dead.
poem by Charles Hamilton Sorley
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All the Hills and Vales Along
All the hills and vales along
Earth is bursting into song,
And the singers are the chaps
Who are going to die perhaps.
O sing, marching men,
Till the valleys ring again.
Give your gladness to earth's keeping,
So be glad, when you are sleeping.
Cast away regret and rue,
Think what you are marching to.
Little live, great pass.
Jesus Christ and Barabbas
Were found the same day.
This died, that went his way.
So sing with joyful breath,
For why, you are going to death.
Teeming earth will surely store
All the gladness that you pour.
Earth that never doubts nor fears,
Earth that knows of death, not tears,
Earth that bore with joyful ease
Hemlock for Socrates,
Earth that blossomed and was glad
'Neath the cross that Christ had,
Shall rejoice and blossom too
When the bullet reaches you.
Wherefore, men marching
On the road to death, sing!
Pour your gladness on earth's head,
So be merry, so be dead.
From the hills and valleys earth
Shouts back the sound of mirth,
Tramp of feet and lilt of sing
Ringing all the road along.
All the music of their going,
Ringing swinging glad song-throwing,
Earth will echo still, when foot
Lies numb and voice mute.
On, marching men, on
To the gates of death with song.
Sow your gladness for earth's reaping,
So you may be glad, though sleeping.
Strew your gladness on earth's bed,
So be merry, so be dead.
poem by Charles Hamilton Sorley
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The Seed
A seed
A bird had swallowed
While in fruit,
Had fallen in some rocky land
As Bird-droppings,
And sprouted into
A lovely tree,
With massive trunk
And boughs with verdant leaves,
And luscious fruits
As birds built nests
And wayfarers had shade from scorching sun!
A seed
A farmer sowed
In fertile land,
Ploughed by oxen
And sweat of brow
’neath scorching sun,
Did sprout also:
But ceased to grow
And withered
As the rains had failed
That year!
Although in both the cases
Seeds seemed similar,
Why did the farmer’s toil
Didn’t fructify?
Perhaps,
The bird had gulped
The best of fruits with seed
That grew despite the rocky soil!
Perhaps, the farmer’s work
Remained by God
Unblessed!
Man’s selfishness
At times ruins his labor great!
The heart of man matters!
Each seed
That’s sowed on earth
Grows by Heaven’s decree!
poem by John Celes
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Rain drops fall from heaven
Tears swelling up in my eyes every night
Rain drops fall from heaven
Simply a walking disguise in the light
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wondering when i will be alright
Rain drops fall from heaven
Growing so weak no energy to fight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Losing all hope in my mind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing that i could simply unwind
Rain drops fall from heaven
As time goes love makes me blind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i didn't have to leave her behind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wanting to make everything right
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i could see her in sight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing I had the strength to fight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i could hold her tight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Never knowing if she remembers me
Rain drops fall from heaven
Never know if we were meant to be
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i had more time to see
Rain drops fall from heaven
My family that always loved me
Rain drops fall from heaven
Thinking back to the times we had
Rain drops fall from heaven
Smiles and laughter but yet so sad
Rain drops fall from heaven
Just sitting here all alone
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i was way back home
Rain drops fall from heaven
Now the only thing that is on my mind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Is the memories i have way back in time
Rain drops fall from heaven
The tears from my eyes and deep inside
Rain drops fall from heaven
Matches the drops that come from the sky
Rain drops fall from heaven
If you could even begin to wonder why
Rain drops fall from heaven
It is simply those tears from lies
Rain drops fall from heaven
Every time it rains i stare to the clouds
Rain drops fall from heaven
Hoping one day she will simply fall
Rain drops fall from heaven
Right into my arms where she belongs
Rain drops fall from heaven
So that i can sing her a song
Rain drops fall from heaven
A song that tells her how i feel
Rain drops fall from heaven
A song that is nothing but real
Rain drops fall from heaven
That will be the day that will bring me joy
Rain drops fall from heaven
Too bad it wont happen to this boy
Rain drops fall from my eyes 24/7
poem by Joshua Thomas Gage
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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