Nature poetry

Thatch

Bukowsky’s rain was about money
All soggy but no bread at rain’s end
In van Gogh’s painted yellow light
And rainbow that held God’s smile
At which end , girls were not sure.

For seven days and seven nights
Our rain would go on a roof thatch
That held our young crows captive
Their black almost washed to gray
And the thatch looked a rice field
Sprouting last year’s left over rice.

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Nature poetry

Hail

Why this hail , a silk curtain between
A cloud and sun, winter and summer
When it might spring yellow flowers
In backyard, brittle wings sprouting
Asks a bell in its whistles,its murmur
A side protest at the lack of formality .

Side protests are glossed over by form
And at its lack and spirit,a text rhyme
With no worldly rhythm, a blank verse
Of potential springs with real breeze,
A wind that does not rattle but brings
On a few fine flowers, color of fine silk.

There are no fireworks hid in mango
Throats swollen with rain ,just a few
Green mangos strewn over the yard
Hopelessly nipped in bud by cruel fog.
Mango crop holds no money promise
This year for a cheated mango farmer
With a coil of turban on head to carry
A springload of mangos to the market.