The rain

The rain beat the lake, in rising shrapnel
A girl hid there under the rain shelter
In the eye –shadows of the afraid lover
He that was afraid of the lens’ blinding light
The sun still refused to be coaxed out
Consequently there were no copies of beauty
The rain was now furiously beating the road
All through the evening the wind howled
And there was nothing that we could do
In this sort of rain nothing really happens.

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nisheedhi
Poetry
Free Verse
writing nisheedhi
Poetry based upon actual experiences, not one thought up in the intellectual aridness of a pseudo-thinker. Words as they mean in the specific context of recollected thought or image , not meaning several things at a time but that which re-creates an aura or a haze of an earlier experience.
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