poems, mostly metrical, and rants and raves on poets, poetry, and the po-biz (with 8-string stuff)
Random header image... Refresh for more!

After Hard Rain

Yesterday it rained and they closed the schools and sent us home from work and the rain never stopped while I was conscious. This morning, no rain, but neither was there sun. This morning I took Lew Turco‘s (here’s his wikipedia page) The Book of Forms from the shelf and opened it at random to the cyrch a chwda, a nearly mono-rhymed heptasyllabic Welsh octave with a cross rhyme from the penultimate line to mid-syllable of the last line, and gave myself two hours before stopping to prepare for tonight’s gig (more later). I made one:

That Rain

From first light the light was drowned
And all day the only sound
Was water always earthbound
Or spilling from the high ground
To the low until it found
Some way inside earth or wound
Itself in stream, pond, or lake,
And could retake the world around.

The third word of the last line changed just now, from “remake.” The day was really quite sinister.

But today was quite different. I’m pleased with the poem, and a 3/8th fraction of Fractal Folk, just Krys, our trombonist/flautist Greg DiCristofaro, and I, did a damned good job playing the sidewalk outside Larry’s Comic Book Café (but the Leonardtown Location).

I’m a happy man.

http://mikesnider.org/formalblog/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/digg_32.png http://mikesnider.org/formalblog/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/stumbleupon_32.png http://mikesnider.org/formalblog/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/delicious_32.png http://mikesnider.org/formalblog/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/technorati_32.png http://mikesnider.org/formalblog/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/facebook_32.png http://mikesnider.org/formalblog/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/yahoobuzz_32.png http://mikesnider.org/formalblog/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/twitter_32.png


1 Peter R. { 10.13.10 at 11:31 pm }

It almost has a rhythm to it which makes it seem like at the end of each line in each stanza, rain continues to pour down, running and dripping off of things until it reaches the ground. With the word “lake” casually thrown in it makes the poem seem like a sudden end to the rain, where it is collected, then the cycle starts over again.

2 Mike { 10.17.10 at 10:25 am }

I like that reading, Peter. Thanks for your comment.

Leave a Comment