Screaming Rain

                                 

The other day I was just mindlessly scrolling down my Facebook news feed when I read a very interesting statement from a girl in Germany who subscribes to one of the pages I also subscribe to. And, she used the phrase "screaming rain". I wasn't in a mood and honestly was rather numb, tired and needed to sleep. But that phrase; those two little words hit a nerve. Why? What was it? An oxymoron maybe? Nonetheless, I couldn't leave it alone. I had to write it. I had to click over and write. Within a moment I had one of the best poems I've written so far in life.  Tell me what you think.

Screaming Rain

What could this be? Who am I? Oh My!

I’m rolling. I’m falling. I’m wet.

My family is clustered around me now

Tis something I’ll never forget.

The jet stream is busy, it pulls me about

It’s scary and noisy. I’m tussled.

I grab my breath I cannot hold.

My screams cannot be muzzled.

Rolling and turning about with my family

I reach out to hold those around

We are all screaming pitifully now

As we plummet onto to the ground

Agitation is my quandary

As we fall on the land again

We are all just a family that falls and falls

We are the muted screaming rain. (c)

 


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Should I thank a slug?

                                                

Have you ever had one of those days when the birds are chirping, the air is fresh and it's so beautiful outside that you think you are going to die from cabin fever. So, you look up anticipating it being close to go home and it's only 10:00 in the morning. Um yea. It happens to me. I couldn't stand it another minute. I needed a break from the slug's osmosis.  Outside the air was brisk. The birds were singing in the trees, the sky was clear and work was the last place I wanted to be. Cold or not - I wanted out.

So, who do I thank for the inspiration to go outside? Who else? My favorite slug.

Get your coat on (c)

Setting here, feeling flustered

Thinking of stuff and yellow mustard

Wishing slugs slept in winter

You think it’s time to go outside.

She’s a pisser, yep that’s right,

There is no one here more uptight

You can re-assign my cubby

I think it’s time to go outside.

How much bad can one beotch find?

Before she leaves us all behind

To descend below the fire.

I really NEED to go outside.

Now she rags on other kin

And gets deep beneath their skin

Her fangs are hot, overworked

Get your damned coat on!

g

Like my poems? Want a little ditty to get you through the morning? Follow me on Twitter. 

Grace Oribhabor ‏@GOribhabor 

Little Bundle

Today I became a grandmother. I watched Max become a man. This poem is for him.  I hope he steps up.

Little bundle

It was just a little bundle

 in the bassinet

Just a little bundle,

 he never will forget

Just tiny little fingers

folded up so tight

Just a little baby,

Oh my, what a sight

He saw the little nostrils

on the baby's face

He saw the little eyebrows

just in the right place

But this was newly different

His heart was swelled with joy

Everything was good today cuz'

he held his baby boy

Congratulations Max. (c)

Best friends

Have you got a dog or cat that just can't stand thunder storms? Fortunately our dog would sleep through a nuclear blast. Sometime ago I found this pic on the net. This pic has always stayed with me. My imagination served it's purpose. Consider Miranda and Johnnie. Miranda, obviously the older wiser of the two, tolerates the dog - usually.

Best friends

There once was a cat named Miranda

Who sat still on the veranda

She said to the dog

You eat like a hog

And actually, I really can't stand'ya.

The dog said to the cat in a dither

You sure can make my spirits wither

You're just an old puss

A wretched old wuss

Like a snake, I’ve seen you slither

The cat yelled to the sky

I ought to scratch out your eye

You’re dumb to the bone

And all alone

My loathing will soon make you die

The scrapping went on through the night

The two dodgers fought into the light

When the sun rose

In their repose

They were holding each other quite tight.