Archive for rain

Vintage Photo of the Week

Posted in Photography with tags , , , , , , , , on April 11, 2012 by Mj Rains

Musician in the Rain

Robert Doisneau


Rain, Rain, go away…come again some other day.

Posted in Photography, Poetry at large with tags , , , , , , on September 7, 2011 by Mj Rains

photo: RAIN by Maozi

Much as I sometimes love rain, and rainy days, and any excuse to stay in
and read a good book, I’m just plain old getting sick of it this week. And it doesn’t seem like it will be stopping…

First winter rain
by Matsuo Basho
First winter rain–
even the monkey
seems to want a raincoat.
photo: rain lights by kateey
Horses and Men in Rain
by Carl Sandburg
LET us sit by a hissing steam radiator a winter’s day, gray wind pattering frozen raindrops on the window,
And let us talk about milk wagon drivers and grocery delivery boys.

Let us keep our feet in wool slippers and mix hot punches—and talk about mail carriers and messenger boys slipping along the icy sidewalks.
Let us write of olden, golden days and hunters of the Holy Grail and men called “knights” riding horses in the rain, in the cold frozen rain for ladies they loved.

A roustabout hunched on a coal wagon goes by, icicles drip on his hat rim, sheets of ice wrapping the hunks of coal, the caravanserai a gray blur in slant of rain.
Let us nudge the steam radiator with our wool slippers and write poems of Launcelot, the hero, and Roland, the hero, and all the olden golden men who rode horses in the rain.

photo: After the Rain by Grace-Note
When The Sun Come After Rain
by Robert Louis Stevenson
WHEN the sun comes after rain
And the bird is in the blue,
The girls go down the lane
Two by two.When the sun comes after shadow
And the singing of the showers,
The girls go up the meadow,
Fair as flowers.

When the eve comes dusky red
And the moon succeeds the sun,
The girls go home to bed
One by one.

And when life draws to its even
And the day of man is past,
They shall all go home to heaven,
Home at last.

Rain today….

Posted in Art with tags , , , , , , on July 29, 2010 by Mj Rains

We experienced much needed rain in the early blue morning…so today I’m inspired by rain…and pray for more.

Rain Princess by Leonid Afremov

Rain by Suetilanglz

Rain by OmeN2501

Rain by Bramleech

The Rain by OjosVerde

Rain by Biblegeek

All artwork and photography can be found at Deviant Art.


Slow Lament

Posted in Poetry at large with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 27, 2010 by Mj Rains

Lamento Lento

En la noche del corazon
la gota de tu nombre lento
en silencio circula y cae
y rompe y desarrolla su agua.

Algo quiere su leve dano
y su estima infinita y corta,
como el paso de un ser perdido
de pronto oido.

De pronto, de pronto escuchado
y repartido en el corazon
con triste insistencia y aumento
como un sueno frio de otono.

La espersa ruenda de la tierra
su llanta humeda de olvido
hace rodar, cortando el tiempo
en mitades inaccesibles.

Sus copas duras cubren tu alma
derramada en la tierra fria
con sus pobres chispas azules
volando en la voz de la lluvia.

Slow Lament  by Pablo Neruda

Into the night of the heart
your name drops slowly
and moves in silence and falls
and breaks and spreads its water.

Something wishes for its slight harm
and  its infinite and short esteem,
like the step of a lost one
suddenly heard.

Suddenly, suddenly listened to
and spread in the heart
with sad insistence and increase
like a cold autumnal dream.

The thick wheel of the earth,
its tire moist with oblivion,
spins, cutting time
into inaccessible halves.

Its hard goblets cover your heart
spilt upon the cold earth
with its poor blue sparks
flying in the voice of the rain.

Photography: Rain   rain  by Lonely Pierot


Posted in Art, Poetry at large with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 18, 2010 by Mj Rains

Ah, so it rains on this May day. What more can I say. I’ll give you a poem if you have time…

The May Mornings

May mornings wear
light cashmere shawls of quietness,
brush back waterfalls of
burnished silk from
clear and round brows.
When we see them approaching
over lawns, trailing
dewdark shadows and footprints,
we remember, ah,
yes, the May mornings,
how could we have forgotten,
what solace it would have been
to think of them,
what solace
it would be in the bitter violence
of fire then ice again we
apprehend – but
it seems the May mornings
are a presence known
only as they pass
lightstepped, seriously smiling, bearing
each leaflined basket
of wakening flowers.

Poem: The May Mornings (1982) by Denise Levertov
Painting above: Rain 2 by Zeldis
Photography: by The Wit Continuum

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