Rain

Rain pounds loudly against the glass,
Echoing in my small bedroom as I stare at the ceiling.
Pitter-patter-pitter-patter
Goes the rain as it falls upon my ceiling, upon the walls.

I hear the stories the raindrops tell,
I hear their songs and their musical lullabies.
I listen eagerly to the rain,
Wanting to never stop hearing their lovely stories.
I listen until they invade my dreams with their words.

My dreams tell of beautiful dancers
And hidden worlds of the faerie kind.
My dreams tell of dark lies
And cruel mischief ending in death.

Once the storm decides to pass,
I awake and weep quietly.
Knowing that the rain had passed as well
Taking their tales, secrets, and songs with them.

I sigh to myself a lonely sigh
Before smirking slightly.
There's always the next storm.

Reviews

[Twelve Steps to Zero]

This is quite a fantastic poem, they way you take something that is usually associated with gloom and give it its own story - sheer brilliance! It's almost like the rain is calming you through the night, and the absence of the familiar pitter-patter tears at your heart - unless I'm mistaken, that's a tiny allusion towards mothers/motherhood? Also, the last line - genius.

[Alice Walker]

Why thank you! You're right about how I made it seem like the rain calms me during the night and breaks my heart when it's gone, because it is true for me. And it is also an allusion towards mother and motherhood, but mainly mothers because my mum was there for me when she was in public or had to act like she cared. Plus where I lived it rained a lot which led to me thinking that, since the it was always there, the rain was more of a mother for me than my own mum.

[Twelve Steps to Zero]

A true poet, then. You're welcome :)

[Alice Walker]

Again, I do thank you as my next storm has already come tonight.

[Sheila Kline]

This is so beautiful and descriptive and certainly deserving of the win in the RainyMoods contest!! CONGRATS!

[L'Éphoectique]

Too many people view rain as a source of sadness, or any kind of depressive state. Rain, like any other force of nature, also has it's beauty and it's story - I love the simpler ending to an elaborate poem, like a final realisation, shuddering off the grief of a last storm.

[Alice Walker]

Thank you for noticing that! Too many people ignore the fact that the rain is not just something about grief, but it can be the source of someone's happiness or comfort. Everything has it's own story, you just have to bother to look for it.

[GlacialStars]

Its funny how this story goes...You take something that has a sad connotation and make it sound like a source of happiness. The line that made me wonder was when you said there is always the next storm. As if you are waiting for it, its true that rain can be source of comfort but nobody really ever awaits the rain unless they are really thirsty.

And I like the personification of the rain...How you said the rain sung you lullabies and how it told you stories as if the rain was a maternal figure and that you weep when she's gone. It was a great poem! I enjoyed it

[Alice Walker]

Thank you very much. I based this on how I have always viewed the rain, from when I lived in Florida to where I live now. I have always seen the rain as one of my parents because the rain was one of the only things that would calm me during one of my nightmare fits. And about the last line, another reason someone would wait for the next storm is if they truly cherish how the rain is basically a mother to all plants- no matter where you find them. That and I'm weird enough I truly like to wait for the rain because I want to.