August Rain

[Keith]

3rd Edit
Trapped by an old death bed,
begging for sleep, his eyes roll shut,
pain keeps them from slumber.
She moves cups in the kitchen
I can hear the clatter, precious water
pools on the drainer.

What else can she do?

He did ask for something,
when wishes could be heard,
a prayer for August rain?
heat brings a bad day for suffering
but she recalls the whispered request
and meets me on the lawn.

Me, a simple hose,
my snake belly, needing to be filled
so water can become my tongue.
holding my head in her hand,
we look up to his bedroom
as she turns the tap.

My inside fills to burst,
I answer his prayer,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets,
his tranquillity comes tapping on tiles,
coolness calms his condition
smiling at the August rain.

Finally sleep floats him away;

we hang our heads in the garden,
clothes and hair soaked,
she lets me fall to the grass,
I feel empty, spent, I can only watch,
as the rain maker mixes tears in the mud

Old one
Inside bound by quilt, twisted by the day
begging for sleep, his eyes roll shut,
but pain keeps them from slumber

She moves cups in the kitchen
I can hear the clatter, precious water
drips on the drainer.

One sentence softly spoke,
when his wishes could be heard,
a prayer for August rain.

Me a simple tube, I lie in wait
my snake belly, needing to be filled
so water can loose my tongue.

Today is a bad day for suffering
but she recalls a whispered wish
and meets me on the lawn.


My belly fills to bursts a vipers kiss
ha ha, I answer his prayer,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets
his tranquillity comes tapping on tiles
sleep streams through a twisted body
smiling at the August rain

slowly he sleeps,
as we cry our tears in the garden,
her clothes soaked we stand together,
the rain and the maker.

[tectak]

My snake belly, waiting to be filled
He lies inside bound by quilts, twisted by the day
begging for sleep, mental torment, his eyes role shut,
but pain keeps them from slumber. You need to tighten this stanza. My, he, his and them are denied the associations that keeps clarity paramount. The lack of punctuation is never a virtue....no matter what some may say. To play piano badly but on purpose......you have to be able to play it well. Eyes roll shut.

She moves cups in the kitchen
I can hear the clatter, precious water,
drips on the drainer. He has no voice. you play a risky game if you wait too late to define your characters. I will wait to see who "he" is....many would lose interest.

I lie outside waiting to loose my tongue,
from linen to mortar to blade of grass his mind calls,
she hasn’t heard, his words locked inside, then hear me,
let me, fulfil my simple task, as tap tube and water. I am really trying to connect the threads of your thoughts in this stanza. I can sense dramatic intent but then I get snagged on what the hell is a tap tube....and how can it it be a task?

His serenity, recurring thought, stroked by heat,
these days hurt her more, yet strong the disguise,
an idea starts to grow, one sentence softly spoke It seems pedantically irrelevant to suggest that the word should be "spoken" when there is such confused grammar in the air. Try reading this stanza out loud and see if it makes sense to you. L1 seems worthy enough but then you tip the whole thing down the drain. What is disguised? The punctuation says it is his serenity. Is that your intention? What is never August rain? The punctuation says his whispers...or does it? Perhaps the sentence is never August rain......or could it be the idea? Not clear, especially as it is a difficult task describing what something never is.
days ago, when his whispers could be heard,
never august rain.

She wants to help, take his pain, her eyes drip again,
but today is different
understanding quickens her pace,
no time to waste, if she is right riddles solvedAre you using the line ends to punctuate? If not, and doing so is not unheard of ( but not a good technique) you have written "......but today is different understanding quickens her pace......"
and "....,if she is right riddles solved could it be, could it be."
could it be, could it be?

my belly fills to bursts a vipers kiss
ha ha, I answer his call,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets
tranquillity tapping on tiles
sleep streams through his body
smiling as he hears our placebo All said above applies..... but to hear a placebo is stretching a metaphor past its boiling point

I read last stanza thus:
slowly he sleeps, we cry our tears in the garden her clothes soaked we stand together the rain and the maker.

I hope I am being consistent and fair in this crit. The whole has a wonderful quality of symbolism which gets lost in the chaotic streets of a the city where the traffic lights have all malfunctioned at once. I think that the old advice applies. Read your work out loud and when you pause stick in an appropriate punctuating mark. I was always taught that a comma was a count of one, a semi-colon a count of two, a colon a count of four and a full-stop a dramatic pause to suit....the "count" being relative, of course, to the overall tempo of the piece.
Best,
tectak

[smakpopy]

My snake belly, waiting to be filled
He lies inside bound by quilts, twisted by the day
begging for sleep, mental torment, his eyes role shut, -Do you mean roll shut?
but pain keeps them from slumber.

She moves cups in the kitchen
I can hear the clatter, precious water,
drips on the drainer. He has no voice.

I lie outside waiting to loose my tongue,
from linen to mortar to blade of grass his mind calls,
she hasn’t heard, his words locked inside, then hear me,
let me, fulfil my simple task, as tap tube and water.

His serenity, recurring thought, stroked by heat,
these days hurt her more, yet strong the disguise,
an idea starts to grow, one sentence softly spoke
days ago, when his whispers could be heard,
never august rain.

She wants to help, take his pain, her eyes drip again,
but today is different
understanding quickens her pace,
no time to waste, if she is right riddles solved
could it be, could it be?

my belly fills to bursts a vipers kiss
ha ha, I answer his call,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets
tranquillity tapping on tiles -tranquility ?
sleep streams through his body
smiling as he hears our placebo

slowly he sleeps,
we cry our tears in the garden
her clothes soaked we stand together
the rain and the maker.

She, he, snake, maker, i wonder what others attribute each of these references to.

---

I am really trying to connect the threads of your thoughts in this stanza. I can sense dramatic intent but then I get snagged on what the hell is a tap tube....and how can it it be a task?

I think its a quick description of a faucet, pipe, and the water that flows in it.

It is a simple thing to twist a faucet on a tube "pipe" and for water to flow, his simple task has something to do with the words he has not spoken.

He thirsts, she brings the rain?

[tectak]

My snake belly, waiting to be filled
He lies inside bound by quilts, twisted by the day
begging for sleep, mental torment, his eyes role shut, -Do you mean roll shut?
but pain keeps them from slumber.

She moves cups in the kitchen
I can hear the clatter, precious water,
drips on the drainer. He has no voice.

I lie outside waiting to loose my tongue,
from linen to mortar to blade of grass his mind calls,
she hasn’t heard, his words locked inside, then hear me,
let me, fulfil my simple task, as tap tube and water.

His serenity, recurring thought, stroked by heat,
these days hurt her more, yet strong the disguise,
an idea starts to grow, one sentence softly spoke
days ago, when his whispers could be heard,
never august rain.

She wants to help, take his pain, her eyes drip again,
but today is different
understanding quickens her pace,
no time to waste, if she is right riddles solved
could it be, could it be?

my belly fills to bursts a vipers kiss
ha ha, I answer his call,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets
tranquillity tapping on tiles -tranquility ?
sleep streams through his body
smiling as he hears our placebo

slowly he sleeps,
we cry our tears in the garden
her clothes soaked we stand together
the rain and the maker.

She, he, snake, maker, i wonder what others attribute each of these references to.

---

I am really trying to connect the threads of your thoughts in this stanza. I can sense dramatic intent but then I get snagged on what the hell is a tap tube....and how can it it be a task?

I think its a quick description of a faucet, pipe, and the water that flows in it.

It is a simple thing to twist a faucet on a tube "pipe" and for water to flow, his simple task has something to do with the words he has not spoken.

He thirsts, she brings the rain?

Oh. I could not fail to disagree with you less....so I'm glad we are all clear, now

[billy]

where's the original? try and put it up so we can see the changes.

My snake belly, waiting to be filled
He lies inside bound by quilts, twisted by the day
begging for sleep, mental torment, his eyes role shut,
but pain keeps them from slumber.

She moves cups in the kitchen
I can hear the clatter, precious water,
drips on the drainer. He has no voice.

I lie outside waiting to loose my tongue,
from linen to mortar to blade of grass his mind calls,
she hasn’t heard, his words locked inside, then hear me,
let me, fulfil my simple task, as tap tube and water

His serenity, recurring thought, stroked by heat,
these days hurt her more, yet strong the disguise,
an idea starts to grow, one sentence softly spoke
days ago, when his whispers could be heard,
never august rain.

She wants to help, take his pain, her eyes drip again,
but today is different
understanding quickens her pace,
no time to waste, if she is right riddles solved what riddle?
could it be, could it be?

my belly fills to bursts a vipers kiss burst
ha ha, I answer his call,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets
tranquillity tapping on tiles
sleep streams through his body
smiling as he hears our placebo

slowly he sleeps,
we cry our tears in the garden
her clothes soaked we stand together
the rain and the maker.

no nits as such apart from the title, the poems about a garden hose, and the rain isn't heavens rains, which is what the title implies. i think you could have been more inventive with it (the title) while i liked the poem it did verge on being too clever. i did enjoy it though, wish i could have been more help

thanks for the read.

[smakpopy]

Hah, i did not read it as a riddle.

[Keith]

My snake belly, waiting to be filled
He lies inside bound by quilts, twisted by the day
begging for sleep, mental torment, his eyes role shut,
but pain keeps them from slumber. You need to tighten this stanza. My, he, his and them are denied the associations that keeps clarity paramount. The lack of punctuation is never a virtue....no matter what some may say. To play piano badly but on purpose......you have to be able to play it well. Eyes roll shut.

She moves cups in the kitchen
I can hear the clatter, precious water,
drips on the drainer. He has no voice. you play a risky game if you wait too late to define your characters. I will wait to see who "he" is....many would lose interest.

I lie outside waiting to loose my tongue,
from linen to mortar to blade of grass his mind calls,
she hasn’t heard, his words locked inside, then hear me,
let me, fulfil my simple task, as tap tube and water. I am really trying to connect the threads of your thoughts in this stanza. I can sense dramatic intent but then I get snagged on what the hell is a tap tube....and how can it it be a task?

His serenity, recurring thought, stroked by heat,
these days hurt her more, yet strong the disguise,
an idea starts to grow, one sentence softly spoke It seems pedantically irrelevant to suggest that the word should be "spoken" when there is such confused grammar in the air. Try reading this stanza out loud and see if it makes sense to you. L1 seems worthy enough but then you tip the whole thing down the drain. What is disguised? The punctuation says it is his serenity. Is that your intention? What is never August rain? The punctuation says his whispers...or does it? Perhaps the sentence is never August rain......or could it be the idea? Not clear, especially as it is a difficult task describing what something never is.
days ago, when his whispers could be heard,
never august rain.

She wants to help, take his pain, her eyes drip again,
but today is different
understanding quickens her pace,
no time to waste, if she is right riddles solvedAre you using the line ends to punctuate? If not, and doing so is not unheard of ( but not a good technique) you have written "......but today is different understanding quickens her pace......"
and "....,if she is right riddles solved could it be, could it be."
could it be, could it be?

my belly fills to bursts a vipers kiss
ha ha, I answer his call,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets
tranquillity tapping on tiles
sleep streams through his body
smiling as he hears our placebo All said above applies..... but to hear a placebo is stretching a metaphor past its boiling point

I read last stanza thus:
slowly he sleeps, we cry our tears in the garden her clothes soaked we stand together the rain and the maker.

I hope I am being consistent and fair in this crit. The whole has a wonderful quality of symbolism which gets lost in the chaotic streets of a the city where the traffic lights have all malfunctioned at once. I think that the old advice applies. Read your work out loud and when you pause stick in an appropriate punctuating mark. I was always taught that a comma was a count of one, a semi-colon a count of two, a colon a count of four and a full-stop a dramatic pause to suit....the "count" being relative, of course, to the overall tempo of the piece.
Best,
tectak

Wow, many thanks for such in depth feedback, sorry the edit was so sloppy it was a little rushed, I will take some time to digest all thats said but this bugger will get written to a ok standard if it kills me. Cheers
Keith

---

where's the original? try and put it up so we can see the changes.

My snake belly, waiting to be filled
He lies inside bound by quilts, twisted by the day
begging for sleep, mental torment, his eyes role shut,
but pain keeps them from slumber.

She moves cups in the kitchen
I can hear the clatter, precious water,
drips on the drainer. He has no voice.

I lie outside waiting to loose my tongue,
from linen to mortar to blade of grass his mind calls,
she hasn’t heard, his words locked inside, then hear me,
let me, fulfil my simple task, as tap tube and water

His serenity, recurring thought, stroked by heat,
these days hurt her more, yet strong the disguise,
an idea starts to grow, one sentence softly spoke
days ago, when his whispers could be heard,
never august rain.

She wants to help, take his pain, her eyes drip again,
but today is different
understanding quickens her pace,
no time to waste, if she is right riddles solved what riddle?
could it be, could it be?

my belly fills to bursts a vipers kiss burst
ha ha, I answer his call,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets
tranquillity tapping on tiles
sleep streams through his body
smiling as he hears our placebo

slowly he sleeps,
we cry our tears in the garden
her clothes soaked we stand together
the rain and the maker.

no nits as such apart from the title, the poems about a garden hose, and the rain isn't heavens rains, which is what the title implies. i think you could have been more inventive with it (the title) while i liked the poem it did verge on being too clever. i did enjoy it though, wish i could have been more help

thanks for the read.

Thanks Billy food for the edit Ver 2

---

My snake belly, waiting to be filled
He lies inside bound by quilts, twisted by the day
begging for sleep, mental torment, his eyes role shut, -Do you mean roll shut?
but pain keeps them from slumber.

She moves cups in the kitchen
I can hear the clatter, precious water,
drips on the drainer. He has no voice.

I lie outside waiting to loose my tongue,
from linen to mortar to blade of grass his mind calls,
she hasn’t heard, his words locked inside, then hear me,
let me, fulfil my simple task, as tap tube and water.

His serenity, recurring thought, stroked by heat,
these days hurt her more, yet strong the disguise,
an idea starts to grow, one sentence softly spoke
days ago, when his whispers could be heard,
never august rain.

She wants to help, take his pain, her eyes drip again,
but today is different
understanding quickens her pace,
no time to waste, if she is right riddles solved
could it be, could it be?

my belly fills to bursts a vipers kiss
ha ha, I answer his call,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets
tranquillity tapping on tiles -tranquility ?
sleep streams through his body
smiling as he hears our placebo

slowly he sleeps,
we cry our tears in the garden
her clothes soaked we stand together
the rain and the maker.

She, he, snake, maker, i wonder what others attribute each of these references to.

---

I am really trying to connect the threads of your thoughts in this stanza. I can sense dramatic intent but then I get snagged on what the hell is a tap tube....and how can it it be a task?

I think its a quick description of a faucet, pipe, and the water that flows in it.

It is a simple thing to twist a faucet on a tube "pipe" and for water to flow, his simple task has something to do with the words he has not spoken.

He thirsts, she brings the rain?

Thanks Smakpopy, have been struggling with this one but still want to tell the story, I may swich to Prose at this rate. Thanks for your feedback. Keith