The Sound of Rain

The sound of the rain
feels like a blanket of words
I thought I forgot
under over-strained sunshine.
Lost stories come home sometimes.

Photo by reza shayestehpour on Unsplash

Song Choice: Here Comes The Rain Again by Eurythmics

Liner Notes for this Groove: This tanka is linked to the Friday Writings post at Poets and Storytellers United.

Words

What's the use of words
when they aren’t really mine,
just lines I'm expected to say?

No one wants the real
ones that have been prowling,
thrashing their tails and hissing
in the warm cave of my throat

waiting for their chance
to run and be seen.

There is a script
for the way things are done.
Those words that were really mine

have nothing to do
but wait in the dark while I hope
that in their restlessness
that they don’t tear my own throat

from the inside out. 

Photo by Glen Carrie on Unsplash

Song Choice: Words by Missing Persons

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem is linked to the Friday Writings post at Poets and Storytellers United.

Necromancer

Rages buried,
especially in unremarked graves,
never rest easy.

They claw
out of their tombs,
polite skin peeled away
making you confront the rot.

They rise
bringing the deterioration
of the past to the present

and they rest
only after they have truly been fed.

Photo by Simon Wijers on Unsplash

Song Choice: Zombie Stomp by Ozzie Osbourne

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem is linked to Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings post.