#august rain

[letsbeapoemtogether]

"August rain, with the earth shifting into cold, feels like nature writing poems to us."

Abhilasha.

[denpadokei]

Yesterday I didn’t know what to post despite it being REAL HACHIGATSU NO RAINY HOURS WHO UP but ig I forgot and posted about kaito instead to which I basically got no notes or votes? Anyway I don’t know what to post again today so I’m going to take my missed opportunity even though it’s not really real hachigatsu no rainy hours who up rn but who cares

IT IS REAL HACHIGATSU NO RAINY HOURS! WHO UP??????!!!!!!!!!

MAKE SURE TO SMASH LIKE AND SHARE IF IT’S HACHIGATSU AND RAINY WHEREVER YOU ARE BRO!!!!!!

[raeiyyn]

mid august rains have been blue

i haven't written much this month. but the tenderness and sometimes the melancholy (despite its contradiction) of the rain does make poetry bleed it's way through my heart

[deathelegy]

August - 2

i need you to fill my heart with the greenery that damn august keeps bragging about.

--apollo--

[4eternal-life]

“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[oddestishottest]

[creatingnikki]

Just when I decided to sleep, it started to rain. 1:41 am on a Friday night has never been this quiet. No texts from you, no binge-watching a series. No fearing life. Okay that last one's a half lie. I did worry but then I read some wholesome poetry and was reminded that I live not to worry but to cherish. It's okay if you won't text me and correct me to say it's Saturday not Friday since it's post 12 am. For me it's still Friday until I fall asleep. It's okay if you won't send me songs to fall asleep to. I have the rain. It's all organic, did you know? Unlike your love. You can't choose friends based on what benefit you can get out of them. You can't be such a selfish asshole. Too late. You always have been. I have been selfless fewer times since you ripped my heart apart. At this point the curser stares at me. I don't know how to add a happy twist to this, how to make it positive poetry. I've never been good with tying bows perfectly. I try but sometimes I get tired of trying. This is it. For you it may be only three days of silence after our all-night emotionally draining phone call. But for me it's three whole days of not a text from you to ease my anticipation and anxiety. You're not unaware. You're deliberately inconsiderate. That's just cruel. My words may have seemed like platitude to you but at least they were offered to you. The rain has stopped. I am going to bed. When I wake up you will be written off from the narrative of my life.

[poem-today]

A poem by Derek Walcott

Dark August

So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky of this black August. My sister, the sun, broods in her yellow room and won’t come out.

Everything goes to hell; the mountains fume like a kettle, rivers overrun; still, she will not rise and turn off the rain.

She is in her room, fondling old things, my poems, turning her album. Even if thunder falls like a crash of plates from the sky,

she does not come out. Don’t you know I love you but am hopeless at fixing the rain ? But I am learning slowly

to love the dark days, the steaming hills, the air with gossiping mosquitoes, and to sip the medicine of bitterness,

so that when you emerge, my sister, parting the beads of the rain, with your forehead of flowers and eyes of forgiveness,

all with not be as it was, but it will be true (you see they will not let me love as I want), because, my sister, then

I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones, The black rain, the white hills, when once I loved only my happiness and you.

Derek Walcott

1930 – 2017