Rain

Rain

A fierce gale is blowing
         rain pounding on the glass
pray that the wind
         does not disrupt the imagination
does not disturb my words

Is the rain any more real
         than my words ?
By the power of words
         I can abstract the rain
turn it into fiction
         or a cinematographic device
a private detective
         out on a case
lurking in a doorway
         as rain falls
tailing a suspect
         waiting perhaps
for one false move
         but the rain
the rain is a character
         a mood-changer
long shot
         along the empty boulevard
the dull glow of a streetlight
         reflected in the wet tarmac
what is happening
         is precisely nothing

Nothing
         but a torrent of words
rains I have known
         over the seas and faraway
Poetry is all
         that includes the weather

John Lyons

Rain is falling

rain1

Rain is falling

Across the whole of England rain is falling
falling upon the towns and the fields
falling upon the highways and the byeways
falling upon the rich and the poor

falling upon young and old alike
falling upon the fit and the infirm
upon our schools and hospitals
Across the whole of England

the sky is dark and rain is falling
falling upon those who love
and upon those whose lives
are consumed with sorrow or hatred

or bitterness or disappointment
falling upon those who will struggle
to survive and upon those who retain
a spring in their step the rain is falling

on buses and cars and trains and planes
through the polluted city air across the whole
of England the rain is falling everywhere
upon the present and the past and upon

the dreams we hope will last the rain
rains down on the living and the dead

John Lyons