What did the rain say.

Rain.
The other thing
apart from restless days,
mind-wandering minutes,
and failed alarm clock
that is getting common.

That's the last quarter
in the manner
that I remembered
across the decade since
i notice the falling drops.

Where the day is often served
with a starter, the main
and then the dessert
sometimes in that order
or all mixed up together.

Ash-coated cream,
extra heavy rain,
added with chilling wind,
that leaves a feeling so mellow
especially in the bitter cold.

We had been questioning
whether had someone
simply tune the weather machine
wrongly or maybe haphazardly
thus explaining our misery.

Now it seems a bit more right,
and upon opening your eyes
a bit more wide,
you'll see that
for some other,
things still ain't really right.

Where water sweeps past
like an angry mob and
some lost their life
in an instant
while for others, hope.

The weather that i see,
compared with a previous year
feels more intense
like a person trying so hard
to be heard.

Throwing out everything,
to get attention,
like he's been ignored
for far too long,
that its unbearable.

So what does this rain mean?
For the better or the worst?
The calm before a storm?
And shall this be the calm,
we are all to face a disastrous time.

Clean Up Service

Let me be here,
to clear up your day,
I might be bad at the house,
but just listen to me for now.

Let the fridge,
offer you a cold drink,
cool off that anger,
and ice cubes to top it off with.

Broom and the dustpan,
sweep up the unwanted,
cleared to the last speck of dust
and no traces of dirt.

What else could I offer,
how about a good seat,
with comforting cushions,
for you to rest right here.

Just stay a while and relax,
things are not as bad as you expect,
keep that smile on,
and in here, you're home.

Phantom of the Order

They talk about
one of us,
a member of the order.
Now that we have split,
all towards paths
that might cross
and join together.
But this one they mention,
caught my attention,
for few would still do,
revisit this old location.
That he is fair,
that his skin is clean
from the sun's glare.
No glass upon his face,
to correct
distorted angles.
And seeks education
born not from
the ruling nation.
Where the people we have
are few and and within what we knew,
who could it possibly be,
lest the order has within,
a person that remain phantom,
right under our noses.

Hey Friend

Hey friend,
where have you been?
The pictures,
the writings
all stopped coming in.

Have work
been really pressing,
that time grew wings
to escape
imprisoning.

Does the calligraphy
still flow,
from your brushes' tip
while you enjoy your smoke
in your little breaks.

Simplicity streaks
across the sights
that you share,
of mornings and things,
we don't give another blink.

I wish for you that
may ink never cease
to be far from your reach,
and keep the pictures coming,
what might catch your glimpse.

Morning. Sunday. 3rd Oct

This morning is
Exceptionally plain.
Leaning towards the average,
Add a little gray tint.
Sunshine behind a shade,
Time feels a little late.
the world seems to go
Half a beat slower than before.
The crow flies as the road goes,
Joining the traffic as a whole.
Green field with its new cloak,
Handled by the storm hours ago.
Probably that's why the little chill,
And everything slowing but not a great deal.
The sunshine hides behind,
What seems like a coat
Or a blanket well disguised.