April 20, 2016

  • Rain Clouds.

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    When the blinding sunlight darkens, and the sky
    covered with thick black clouds suggests rain, I take my
    flute out and stand under the Banyan tree, and call her; my
    home-made reed lets the notes float through the wind
    and urge her to come and play with me. Just like we did
    when we were kids.

    I hear the thunder, and my heart wants to open up and embrace
    that sound. We said that god was rolling large balls on the floor of his
    sky! I see the farmer and his wife stop and look at the sky with smiles,
    waiting for those large drops of rain, hands arrested on their ploughs.
    My own heart longs to hear the music of bells in her ankles
    running towards me, with, “ Raaaju, it is going to rain!” The memory of
    lilt in her voice calling my name, feels like a boulder in my chest.

    Rain clouds, they mesmerize me. They fill me up. My eyes closed,
    my arms open, my face open to the heavens, keeps whispering,
    “Your Raju is here. I am playing your tune on this reed you gave me,
    come play with me. Let’s dance to the rhythm of the falling rain, and
    let’s forget Time’s betrayal, and remember only the devotion of love.

     

     

Comments (9)

  • Beautiful cloud photos! The poem harks to a happy time when things were much simpler.

    • Memories of all childhoods (almost all), when remembered later in life, remind us about the simplicity and innocence of life at that time. We have had such beautiful rain these past two days.

  • The pictures are beautiful. When my children were little and we heard thunder, we told them it was their grandpa bowling in heaven. He liked to bowl.

  • In the midst of rain's promise, man and beast carry on, bravely.

  • I like ata_grandma's bowling grandpa. :) Love the clouds and the word picture of a flute under a banyan tree. Sounds so peaceful.

    • When we were children , we had never heard of the game called "Bowling" like it is here in the US. We played cricket and football (soccer). Therefore the idea of balls rolling on the sky when it thundered.
      Thank you for your appreciation of my poem Miriam.

  • My wife loves clouds. I love sun and have the skin cancer to prove it.

    Love the photo of couple in field with oxen.

    Loved your free spirited poem.

    Blessings Dr. Zakiah,

    Frank

    • I am sure your wife is worshipping the sun in Hawaii now!
      I grew up watching scenes of the farmers ploughing their fields with their wives and fathers. It is a common site at home.
      Thank you for your kind words Frank.

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