20 Shorts: Rain drops singe my skin

Rain drops singe my skin as the fire poker would
Driving ever hard to scold the ground
Cold wet clings to the skin screaming with each plop
Lead worm pings the nose and tongue watering vision
Of Chippewa along Chippewa
Softly combing the grass down tight
My hair that has turned white not grey clouds of dawn
Kuso!
How old I am for the rains I Remember,
remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot
What treason lies in the rain taken lives
Swept to the sky on hung water drops
EyesOnly sees the sought
And will see the sought-less
Soundless strums of water beaten, bramble, along
The shadow, will light if not for the darkness from grey skies
Wo bu dong
Why I hear rain sing
Amidst it’s burnt tormentor’s captors and dryers king.

20 Shorts: Rain drops singe my skin

XtomJames

Joined November 2007

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poetry

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