Today’s prompt:

It’s a rainy day. Describe it.

Post your poem to comments!

Please read the NaPoWriMo page for details on how the challenge works, how to comment,  and how you can participate this month, no matter what your personal writing challenge is for the month of April. Remember that work shared this month is shared in precisely that spirit: sharing, as opposed to critiquing.


Posted on April 17, 2016, in NaPoWriMo. Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. The rain pounds against my window,
    Soothing me and clearing my mind.
    I see a quick flash of light in the sky.
    Thunder reverberates moments after.

    I close my eyes and relax my body,
    Relishing in my favorite weather.
    The sky is gloomy and beautiful.
    I smell the wetness of the earth.

  2. Pitter-patter, drip and drop, dotting the glass with smeared tears.
    The sky is a charcoal gray with darker shades hoisting it up
    And zigzagged bolts that slash through them here.

    I’ve never understood completely why the rain is a positive symbol,
    I suppose for those inside it is, a soundtrack to their reading,
    A soundtrack to their snuggles under crumbled sheets.
    An absentminded view to bring peace from the steady hums and distant rumbles.

    But to those outside, it is a number of the opposite.
    A siren of warning to make it home, to throw themselves under a refuge.
    Or it is a hindrance, a complete obstacle for those with nowhere to be.
    An atmosphere of danger, with white hot flashes and crushing booms,
    Fearful spikes that shoot up the spines of every organism.

    I see the awe that manifests on a small girl’s face, her nose smudged
    Against the window, eyes widening with each dance of light and cymbal crash.
    It is a thrilling fright; she retreats quickly only to push back up again to watch.

    I see the worried surprise of a biker down the lane,
    he must steer faster
    To beat the growing torrents.

    I see the shivered fear of a homeless woman, searching
    frantically for a store veranda she can sneak under—
    but she is not close enough to
    make it before the downfall hardens.

    The rain~
    We often feel comfort from it, but only when we are sheltered from it—
    on the inside looking out.

  3. – no prompt

    There once laid jubilant flowers in my garden,
    They laid content in their green escapades.

    There once were blissful birds,
    Humming the tunes of natures call.

    There once were merry breezes,
    Who sung the song of leaves contempt.

    The delighted outside world seemed one worth living for,
    Not a disturbed crimson mushroom could toil my day.

    There was a time when the mushroom seemed to corrode the surroundings.
    It called for attention, begged for affection.
    Sometimes the brightest things are not all they seem.

  4. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter
    The bullets of water pelt the window
    They fly in all directions
    Hurling their tiny force at everything around

    Pitter, patter, pitter, patter
    The hail adjoins with the rain
    It knocks against the window
    And litters the lawn

    Pitter, patter, pitter, patter
    A loud crack rips open the sky,
    Giving a glimpse into the bright beyond
    The sound bangs and splits the air

    Pitter, patter, pitter, patter
    The wind bellows and blows
    Whistling through the leaves
    And bending nearby trees

    Pitter, patter, pitter, patter
    The storm rages outside my window
    But I don’t hear it,
    Only focused on the one within my heart

  5. I wrote this poem in laying in my bed a rainy night. Unfortunately I wasn’t in a cabin, but I new how it feels…

    Hammering on top,
    roof there between protects me,
    continue nonstop

    Though dark, cold outside,
    fire in cabin warms me,
    protects, not afraid.

    Rain lovely music,
    putting me to sleep tonight,
    I dream taking flight.

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