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Morning Rain
It began like drizzled oil
The stomach grumblings of the low nebula
Heralding its pitter patter arrival
While dogs bolted for warm kennels and birds frolicked
Happy for some
Others lurking troll-like under sheltering bridges
People-shapes scattering with plastic over heads
Playing dice with screeching cars
The contrails of red lights leaving smears
On the puddled iron-lung freeway
While cars and trucks and taxis sway
And jiggle in a deathly rain-dance
Clearing away into a dust-free haze of mist
Clean and fresh and good tra-la-la
The heaven-soap rumbles along to water
Farmers lands and parched cattle
One would hope...
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| "Clean and fresh and good tra-la-la" - LOL I remember this but too well, but was it not 'Good and clean and fresh' or did you change it to avoid plagiarism? Although it can be read universally I clearly saw Johannesburg. I'm disappointed with myself that I've not spent more time on your work in the past. This poem is really well written and I cannot offer any suggestions for improvement. A really good work. |
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| Heartfelt words I find here. I like the last stanza and the wonderful way you ended it, leaves a sweet thought behind. Keep up the good work. I wish I can write about something happy, any suggestions? :) |
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| I like how you use sound in your poetry - if that's something that interests you, I can see why you were attracted to my work, even if those pieces I uploaded last night weren't the most sound-heavy. Anyway, a few random comments: I love the idea of cars & taxis swaying and jiggling(!) - it's so appropriate given the circumstances. And I have always loved the phrase "iron lung." I don't know why. But yes, the sound. Really nice. The shortened vowels really feel like rain just drizzling down. So nice. |
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| ooh this heavenly, love the images, you write it like a painting, lorna x |
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| Nicely done. |
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