Monsoon
#1
Rain arrives with the urgency of a debt
collector, pounds on walls of tar, concrete
and hair, grabbing dried leaves and
bottle cap coins as currency.


Rain, silver reed, touch of a Christmas
angel upon parched soil, finds its
mirror-twin in a limpid pool of glass,
content as a sleeping child.


Rain, splinter upon skin, grows from ant
to army, slicing through air like arrows.
It drums on our roof and needles our
windows until night falls like a mother's


blanket, softening it to a whisper.
You let its scent fill your breath
with soaked mud, awakened leaf
and a hint of new hope.
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#2
(04-10-2021, 04:17 AM)savannah Wrote:  Rain arrives with the urgency of a debt
collector, pounds on walls of tar, concrete
and hair, grabbing dried leaves and
bottle cap coins as currency. Sounds nice but I don't understand the image of bottle cap coins 


Rain, silver reed, touch of a Christmas is the holiday significant?
angel upon parched soil, finds its
mirror-twin in a limpid pool of glass,
content as a sleeping child. Is rain falling? Wouldn't it be rippled and chaotic? Maybe this is the first drop of rain, eye of the storm?


Rain, splinter upon skin, grows from ant
to army, slicing through air like arrows.
It drums on our roof and needles our
windows until night falls like a mother's I like this whole section


blanket, softening it to a whisper.
You let its scent fill your breath
with soaked mud, awakened leaf
and a hint of new hope. I don't know how long a monsoon lasts but doesn't sound too terrifying, pretty imagery.  Thanks for sharing
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
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#3
hi Savannah,

I have a thing about the rain, so I was pedisposed to like this poem.  I like the way the lines flow, and most of the imagery is very effective.  I had the most problems with stanza 2.  Like CRNDLSM, the Christmas image seems out of place.  How about just "weather/angel"?  Also, wouldn't the pool be disturbed by these bullets of rain, not content as a child, unless its under some eaves or something.

Again with CRNDLSM, the title leads you to expect a tropical setting.  I know lots of people outside the tropics use "monsoon" for their rainy season, but maybe title should be more geographically defined, like "Texas monsoon" (no idea where you are at).

Finally, last line is somewhat cliche.  "hint of new Spring"?  is this March or April rain?

Thanks for the rain poem!
"Poetry is the rhythmic, inevitably narrative, movement from an overclothed blindness to a naked vision."  Dylan Thomas
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#4
Hi savannah,

I like the flowing lines too. And I also like a lot of the imagery, e.g. 'walls of tar, concrete / and hair', 'silver reed', 'limpid pool', 'soaked mud' and 'awakened leaf' (excellent). For me, these are the strongest parts of the poem.

I'm a bit unsure about 'a Christmas / angel' too; sorry if I'm missing something here.

All best,
Leaf
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#5
(04-10-2021, 04:17 AM)savannah Wrote:  Rain arrives with the urgency of a debt 
collector, pounds on walls of tar, concrete 
and hair, grabbing dried leaves and morning money dew
bottle cap coins as currency. coin droplets as currency

I see where you're going with this, I like it so I've attempted to add some inspiration that may suit the direction of the lines 


angel upon parched soil, finds its
mirror-twin in a limpid pool of glass,
Rain, silver reed, touch of a Christmas grace 
content as a sleeping child. 

these are good lines. when the words are strong enough to stand on their own you can rearrange the lines in a different order for a different feel. 


Rain, splinter upon skin, grows from ant 
to army, slicing through air like arrows.
It drums on our roof and needles our awesome, really good
windows until night falls like a mother's 
blanket, softening it to a whisper

I got rid of the break to solidify this imagery and add focus to the last stanza 


You let its scent fill your breath 
with soaked mud, awakened leaf 
and a hint of new hope.  nice ending. like it.

I wouldn't say you got lost towards the end, it's not my place to comment on where you wanted this piece to go. overall flows nicely and I'm eager to see where you take it from here 
assholery not intended .
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#6
(04-10-2021, 04:17 AM)savannah Wrote:  Rain arrives with the urgency of a debt
collector, pounds on walls of tar, concrete
and hair, grabbing dried leaves and
bottle cap coins as currency. (What do you mean by cap coins? What are they? I don't get this image!)


Rain, silver reed, touch of a Christmas (What does Christmas have anything to do with a monsoon?)
angel upon parched soil, finds its
mirror-twin in a limpid pool of glass,
content as a sleeping child. (Interesting image, I like the sleeping child simile! I like the use of limpid, why not say iridescent instead of the latter?) 


Rain, splinter upon skin, grows from ant
to army, slicing through air like arrows. (I like this image of arrows slicing through air, good job!)
It drums on our roof and needles our (Needles our windows sounds nice, I like the image too because it carries weight in terms of imagery)
windows until night falls like a mother's


blanket, softening it to a whisper.
You let its scent fill your breath
with soaked mud, awakened leaf
and a hint of new hope. (Nice ending, the rest seems pretty good) (What did you mean by new hope? What hope are you talking about?) More clarity here!

Let me say firstly: why is the font so small? I have to squint or bend my back just to read it, (seriously?) now after get that out of my chest, I want to get into the content of the poem itself: I thought it was interesting with all the images together, I like the way you exercise imagery and narration together to tell a comprehensible story, the poem was really beautiful in terms of the poetic devices, the metaphor (drum) you used that as such, even though drum is a noun. Very good!
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#7
(04-10-2021, 04:17 AM)savannah Wrote:  Rain arrives with the urgency of a debt         an ecological truth, the ecosystem must precede economy, or we all die
collector, pounds on walls of tar, concrete        no wonder the walls are falling just like the sky
and hair, grabbing dried leaves and                 
bottle cap coins as currency.


Rain, silver reed, touch of a Christmas                             the oboe is the ultimate vampire killer, think about it
angel upon parched soil, finds its
mirror-twin in a limpid pool of glass,                                    does the pool have to be limpid, how about undulating
content as a sleeping child.                                                 try, 'contented'


Rain, splinter upon skin, grows from ant                     
to army, slicing through air like arrows.                              this is exquisite poetry, quintessential, if all your lines could be like this, you would be the master, 
It drums on our roof and needles our
windows until night falls like a mother's                                the feeling gives me expectation


blanket, softening it to a whisper.                                        i don't like tchoreography in this line
You let its scent fill your breath                                     
with soaked mud, awakened leaf                                    
and a hint of new hope.
plutocratic polyphonous pandering 
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