I Like The Sound Of The Rain Pouring
today i listen to the rain pouring
from the roof to the gutter to the polyvinyl pipe
down to the ground which i filled with pebbles
the water drains to the garden where the roots
take all the joyous time of seeping and drinking
the pure taste of life's waters
it is music to my ears, these slow dripping
much like the rhythm of your classical poetry
Catullus and Sappho and Emily and Pablo.
i realize then that my poems are too inferior
than those unwritten by the grace of nature.
I will not be at a loss, for soon, i shall imitate them.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Music of nature
I forget all other sounds
When I listen
To the music of nature
It soothes my heart and soul
It’s pleasing to my ears
Sound of flowing water,
Chirping of birds
Pouring of rain,
Whistling of the wind
Takes me to the world of god
Rattling of leaves on the tree
Humming of bees
Buzzing of wasps is
Devotional music to my ears?
I feel nearer to god
Whenever I listen
To the music of nature
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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When The Rain Comes
this i can tell to my nephew
that when the rain comes
all we do is listen to the rhythm
of its own sound
there is music to every dripping
rain at the gutters of
our soul
there is this feeling of having
to be with the cry of the
world
to be wet with its tears
to be divine
and pure
when the rain comes
there is the urge to dance under the sky
to be one with the earth
and rain as the link between the earth
and the sky
our limbs as paths
our feet as thirsty roots
our hands stretching
for more
of what is yet to come
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unwritten love
Heavenly music choral,
Floral
In my soul
Waking
Memories start to roll.
A film of life.
Dancing in the kitchen
With my mother on Christmas Eve.
Feelings like no other.
Unwritten love will weave.
Poetry
That unwritten music
Narrates.
While golden caresses
Wait at the gates.
Earthly tears then dissipate
To send rain for our thirst
Emotion's buds dispersed.
Beautiful music
Unwritten love
Heaven's lights kiss clouds above.
Then sun on our face
Pleasing to the eye.
Unwritten love
Drifts
Across an open sky.
Poetry unwritten music to our ears
A life of rhyme to wipe away the tears.
And though memories mime
We scribe our souvenirs.
Unwritten love
Sweet music from above.
Plays in our soul.
Like morning star
On Heaven's scroll.
poem by Kevin East
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Dedication: To M. C. M. C.
THE well-
They come to it and take
Their cupful or their palmful out of it.
The well-
Stones are around it, and an elder bush
Is there; a high rowan tree; and so
The well is marked.
Who knows
Whence come the waters? Through what passages
Beneath? From what high tors
Where forests are? Forests dripping rain!
Branches pouring to the ground; trunks, barks, roots,
Letting the streamlets down: through the dark earth
The water flows, and in that secret flood
That's called a spring, that finds this little hollow.
Who knows
Whence come the waters that fill cup and palm?
Sweetheart and comrade, I give you
The waters' marches and the forest's bound,
The valley-filling cloud, the trees that set
The rains beneath their roots, out of this well.
poem by Padraic Colum
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Red Rain
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
I am standing up at the waters edge in my dream
I cannot make a single sound as you scream
It cant be that cold, the ground is still warm to touch
This place is so quiet, sensing that storm
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
Well Ive seen them buried in a sheltered place in this town
They tell you that this rain can sting, and look down
There is no blood around see no sign of pain
Hay ay ay no pain
Seeing no red at all, see no rain
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
Red rain-
Putting the pressure on much harder now
To return again and again
Just let the red rain splash you
Let the rain fall on your skin
I come to you defences down
With the trust of a child
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
And I cant watch any more
No more denial
Its so hard to lay down in all of this
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
I see it
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
Im bathing in it
Red rain coming down
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is coming down all over me
Im begging you
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Over me in the red red sea
Over me
Over me
Red rain
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry Has Its Own Music
POETRY HAS ITS OWN MUSIC
Poetry has its own music-
A mind empty of it
Wonders where it is.
Poetry has a rhythm of its own
Without that rhythm
Dead words dead lines dead pages.
Seeking the rhythm the music of poetry
Flat lines come
And the poem is a parody
Of true poetry.
How many flat and false poems
Have I written
In order
To help me try
To come alive?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Alfredo Remembered...
he did not draw the rain
he wrote each drop
with so much art
inside the audio-visual room
where light focused on him
i saw the rain and
felt it
yes, every dropp of it
every coldness
every joy spattering like
i am a roof
a gutter a ground of
pebbles
he never walked much
and stayed
many did not know
that all he waited
was simply
death...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet: Future of Poetry
Poems I thought had good rhythm and Rhyme,
And a moral good at the end of each;
Good Poems I thought should the test of time,
And remained well within the masses’ reach.
Poems I thought had nice music in them,
With apt words placed in right place in each case;
It was a time for Poetry’s Anthem;
Alas, the art is in for a rat-race!
Modern Poetry that is being writ,
From Prose is hard to ever from it sift;
Slang, vulgarities somehow find a place;
’Tis doomsday for poetry at this pace!
Turned has the Wheel of Time almost fully;
’Tis time to draw water with the pulley!
poem by John Celes
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In The Wilderness
Leaving all the world to play they disappear
And the leaves have gathered dust to run like deer
Tearing pieces from our lives to feed the dawn
Mist surrounds the seagulls christened by the storm
Music, all I hear is music - guaranteed to please
And I look for something else
Rain drops pouring down the rooftops
Flowing in the drains
As the people run their lives
As their lives are run by time
Fighting enemies with weapons made to kill
Death is easy as a substitute for pride
Victors join together, happy in their bed
Leaving cold outside the children of the dead
Music, all I hear is music - guaranteed to please
And I look for something else
Rain drops pouring down the rooftops
Flowing in the drains
As the people run their lives
As their lives are run by time...
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nocturn
At the barren heart of midnight,
When the shadow shuts and opens
As the loud flames pulse and flutter,
I can hear a cistern leaking.
Dripping, dropping, in a rhythm,
Rough, unequal, half-melodious,
Like the measures aped from nature
In the infancy of music;
Like the buzzing of an insect,
Still, irrational, persistent . . .
I must listen, listen, listen
In a passion of attention;
Till it taps upon my heartstrings,
And my very life goes dripping,
Dropping, dripping, drip-drip-dropping,
In the drip-drop of the cistern.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Dripping Water
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the horizon of heaven,
on the land, on the sand,
makes me happy, and so elated,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the dark black clouds,
on the leaves, on the tress,
gives them a slow quick bath,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the thunderstruck light,
on the eyes, on the cheeks,
makes everyone to turn the face up!
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the beauty of sky,
onthe mud, on the rivers,
makes musical splashes when gets strike,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the love of vast scream,
to the beautiful murmors of land,
makes me sing, and dance.
poem by Tayyeba Mustafa
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Music Of The Thunder
Music of the thunder is sweet
To our ears indeed a great treat!
Rhyme and rhythm, you can find and hear
Evanescence of life seen here!
Early in the morning a joy
In the nature's hand a nice toy!
Withered trees, parched land scene of woe
Starved people, dying cattle - oh!
Nature played music of thunder
Accompanied by great wonder!
Streak of lightning, lashings of rain
Swelling of streams and rivers main!
Melody of thunder and rain
Great reliever of farmers' pain!
Sans water the world exists not
All living beings on earth rot!
Thunder hurts me not, nor a threat
Indeed a music - nature's pet!
I love nature, I love thunder
What a great nature-made wonder!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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N2
listening to the softness of the rain
at dawn
opening the mind
for the seeping of understanding
how the rain falls on the roof
like a caress
how is the water redirected on the
gutter
towards the canals
of our limitations
canalized we survive the rigors
of what the laws expect
no overflowing
not a shortness of breath
at the middle of the hour of sorrow
we shall hear the festive
songs of the frogs in the rice-fields
the sun is up
but the rains do not stop
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When I listen to music today, it is about 99 percent classical. I rarely even listen to folk music, the music of my own specialty, because folk music is to me more limited than classical music.
quote by Tom Glazer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The commandments of poetry
I shall love poetry
For it is the conversation of God
Over my world
This is not a godless art
Though I name no God
I am bearing witness
To Him creating these
Poems
I do not write poetry
To excite myself
I write them
To sustain
My soul
I shall never use poetry
As a pretext
For fame and glory
It is my spiritual
Devotion
Poetry is pure
Virginal
It is not found
In conformity
I shall bring forth my poems
As a mother brings forth
Her children
Out of my own flesh
And blood
This poem shall not be
An analgesic to kill the pain
But it shall be the wine
That puts me to action
Each poem created
Shall leave me humble
It can never equal my dreams
And always inferior
To God’s marvelous
Creations
Always second
To Nature.
Poetry rises from my heart
In these words
And they have no purpose
But to purify
This poetry shall grow
The flowers of compassion
To console
The hearts of the lonely
And those who are lost
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Double Edged Pleasures
naked children
bathing under the rain
girls stamping their
feet on the water
scattered pleasures
in the rising waters of the river
the boys are at it again
cliff jumping
there are no stones
the rain keeps on pouring
the bamboo raft floats
seeking a strap for home
naked boys and girls
they bathe in the river
long ago there was no malice at all
pure pleasure of angels
the rain keeps pouring
the waters still rising
there is a flood of happiness
at what price tonight?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sonorous Sounds Of The Gentle Rains
the rains are not heavy
but gentle
like the soft hairs of
a two-year old
creature
it gives the sound of
the sonorous earth
there is no tapping on
the roof
there is only the dripping
of a water flowing
from the gutter
to the stinking canals
there is this weakness of
the paper getting
wet and then laying flat
on the cobbled street
the waters walk like an old
man without a hat
without a coat.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Music to Relax
Every beat, every tone
Music is rhythm of soul
Pop, Jazz and Country
Release all our worries
Music gives life a motion
Music controls every emotion
Music calms the mind
Music helps us – our way to find!
Music is inspiration
Music – full of imagination
Music has feelings
Music gives life a meaning
A Slow beat is silent word
A fast beat make you shrewd
Every moment its true worth
Music gives life – new birth
Music is melody
Music moves your body
Make people jump up and down
Spin in circles round and round
Music for celebration
Music for education
Music for entertainment
Music for refreshment
Listen to music to change your mood
Listen to music to keep you cool
Listen to music just to relax
Listen to music to make you sleep
poem by Divyesh J. Shah
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The First Rain of Monsoon
In the month of May
The Summer does sway
The first rain of Monsoon
The drizzling started very soon
The weather is so pleasing
In the evening
The breeze is blowing
the leaves are hovering
At the tender touch of rain drops
Rain is good for upcoming crops
The nature get rejuvenated
Spirit of living life elevated
Water in the form of rain
Never goes in vain
Whether India, England or Spain
People wish rain to come again
Pouring in the valleys, raining in the plain
The thirsty Earth values the rain
After the rain sky is clear
The shining leaves become dear
Listen to the music of nature
New melody of every creature
Flattering of the leaves together
Soft gargling sound of water
Enjoying the rain with pleasure
Writing poem on beauty of nature
Shashikant Nishant Sharma
{Written on 12 May,2012 on experiencing the soft touch of first drizzle of the Monsoon in Delhi. The weather was unforgettable and moments cherishable.}
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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Making Poetry
Why did I make a poem?
It's more than you can imagine
It's not about black or white
Because the power of poetry that I'm dumbfounded
Look at the whole Bible, everything is poetry {not, but a holy book down from Allah is the truth}
Abstract ideas of science are all from the poem
Idealism actual human life is poetry
I'm just trying to be honest...
Creating poetry for me is more than anything
Not me want to be Jesus or Muhammad {but imitate their pious}
But I do not know what my purpose {paradise}
Only the most important is to produce poetry
I just write from the unreal world
Introduce something to people here
Are they willing to accept it or not does not matter
Since the poetry of the poem is the image of eternity
Who continue to fly and only revealed to the seeker
Poetry for me is more important than life
More important than my beloved
More important than my brother
Because the poem can represent any
Why did I make a poem?
When you reject the poem in your life
It has a form of poem to poem
Actually you can not escape from poetry
But you did not realize it, be aware of?
Indeed the poem is really real
Do you not believe how strong poetry
Look at all the countries in the world today
All poems must have an ideology
Ideology of all States is poetry
Do you still deny its power?
From now on, deep down consider
The poem is more than just blank words without the influence
(30 April 2002)
poem by Irvan Hermawan Saichu
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