Night Rain



A rain-sullied night;

a sore, impoverished night.

And yet, at 5am, a tear appears in the clouds –

toothed and jagged, like a hastily ripped envelope,

allowing the moon, hammered and bullied,

to fall into honesty.


Day Rain



A rain-thrashed day;

the town cramped by

cloud the colour of a tin can.

And yet, a plot of blue sky appears

as the west sweeps its doorstep

and the day collapses into reminiscence.



John Rice


Please note that the poems are copyright John Rice 2014 and cannot be reproduced without the express permission of the author.

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