A CINQUAIN
whiteRino

raindrops
drumming music
against strong oak tree's leaves
drowning out fading memories
of love

KOKU GARDEN
OWG

memory music
rain struming approbation
lissome trees applaud

RAIN, TREES, MEMORY, AND MUSIC
Zyell

it's always about music
then rain,
that's when I smell the fragrance
of those damn trees
that's when I slip into a
space where the memory is,
it pulls at me like hungry
fingers...until the only thing left is
the fear of a woman's heart
and a body watering
for a need that sucks me dry

THE FLUTE
InspiringOne

Straight-backed, legs pretzel-crossed,
her cascade of dark hair sways gently as she plays.
Sheltered by the ancient oak
guarding the lake polished silver,
pitted only by the water bugs teasing fish lips,
fingers browned by the sun, etched by life,
dance slow upon the wooden flute,
coaxing forth hesitant spirits’ songs.

Soft brown eyes lit with innocence
watched her father carve this flute
night upon night while the long-ago fires burned.
With each bite of his knife, the spirits would rise,
their stories thus told, remembered,
they infused the flute with history’s blessings.
The day the white bullet tore into his heart
and through her life, he’d massaged her gift
with seasoning oil and a father’s love,
wrapped it carefully in a fine doeskin.

Days later, his brother found her
straight-backed, legs pretzel-crossed,
dark hair shorn in grief,
beneath her oak guardian,
its thick foliage providing safe haven
from the sky’s endless mourning rain.
With trembling hands she accepted her father's gift.

As her uncle walked back through the thundering rain,
haunting tones swirled past him,
began to fill the air with soulful song.
Startlingly, the rain stopped.
The sun sliced through the clouds.
The flute sang on.

MUSIC, TREES, RAIN, MEMORY
Helen

Rain dances in the twilight time upon my window pane,
each drop intermingling like you and I entwined
and joining in the wonder of bodies now as one
happy little splashes drip from corners of their eyes.

"Hold on, hold on", they cry but hard the glass of time
that makes them slowly slide together to the ground.
Feint trails of memory follow sad and, oh, so slow
to forgotten depths of past, their pain the only sound.

But rain and love keep falling to swell the living tide
which flows like raging rivers to beds of tall oak trees
to nourish roots of evermore until we all can know
the truth of who we are today and who we’ll always be.

I look and watch and wait and hope I’m not too late
to hear music like the rain falling on my window pane.

MUSIC, TREES, RAIN, AND MEMORY
The Biki

Music
plays such soft sounds
evoking such sweet moods
warm tender feelings and thoughts
of love.

Trees wave
welcome they say
relax and stay awhile
find energy and peace with me
content.

Rain falls
cleansing the Earth
washing away our sins
purifying our social life
sanity.

Mem'ry
a time long gone
a time of unlocked doors
music, singing, laughter and friends
I wish!!!

WITH THE SYMPHONY OF FLOW
(c) 2001 George as Glen Hames

"Memories" like "Rain"
eventually flow,
rather like "Music" & "Voice" flows
like the wind---
when coming from branches\\of//
memories (touched upon)---\\//
that stand like a tree--- but | | a poet---
conducting symphony & pleasure---
of rustling silver & green leaves with
"Greensleeves" as
measures of treasures in poem;
Flow!~~river! bring rings of the ages in
poetry of substance and sap by tears:
Cry out! with the river---
bringing it home in stone to never wash away!
Flow river; the
"Waltz of the Wild Flowers" to "Swan Lake"---
as Arts for StArts and back again in "Morning song"---
Live tree of life!
...Let no man divide ages of love in memories;
one branch--- one river of tears--- as
a Ballet flows on with the wind, winding in dance,
breathlessly through poem.... & on & on
the conductor conducts--- with thy branch.

RAINSONG
InspiringOne

Rivers,
trees, and flowers
rejoice beneath sky tears;
gurgles, leaf taps, thunder rhythms play
rainsong.

THE RELEASE
The Biki

The maiden sat sadly down to play
At the coming of night time
In the distance she could hear
The town hall clock begin to chime

She remembered those happy times
She had had that seemed so long ago
She drew her bow across the strings
And played so soft and painfully slow.

Her cello played her mood
Showing her broken heart perchance
The trees outside felt it and took it up
And began the wistful dance

Outside the house the wind heard her
It too could feel her pain
And began to sing so soft so low
An accompanying refrain.

The maiden heard the winds soft song
And felt the pain inside decrease
For she knew that somehow this night
She would finally find release.

Her tears were flowing heavy now
Because of all her pain.
As if in answer to her tears
She heard outside begin to rain.

She could not stop playing now
It was as though she were possessed
Her hearts beat pounded as though
It would tear out of her breast.

And then she heard the storm
The thunder calling out her name
She drew her bow across the strings
Replying with the same.

The lightening flashed in response
Filling the sky with its flash
Lightning strikes the ozone stench
Adding to the thunders crash.

The fever grew she drew her bow
As though with maddened wings
The notes she hammered from her bow
Was her madness on the strings.

Thus storm and maid did play
That sad and fateful night
And with the dawn and with the sun
A sad and sorry sight.

The maids heart had burst
She had indeed found release.
Outside the house, look at the trees
And see their dance of peace.

AN INSPIRING ONE CHALLENGE
Pharo

Trees,
on rivers of flowers.
Reeds,
on flower beds play,
while trees to that music dance...

OPPOSING WINDS
Little Bird

It was a long time ago but memory serves
her better than any photograph could,
no matter how often she scrutinizes, tilting it,
hoping each time she might see beyond
the worn boarder.

Fingerprints pressed onto a picture cannot compare
to ink-stained skies obscuring the rose-tinted
air, like through glass she often viewed him.

Sitting under the gnarled oak tree, photograph
drifting from fingers to grass, she strains to hear
music, the new wave, staccato tones their conversations
made when rains, slapping limb, created rhythmic
backdrops against opposing winds.

Now she faintly hears the roaring of thunder
composing death as the tree, like she,
sits alone.

(2001- DMGH)

I STILL LOVE HER
The Biki

I still love her
For more than eight years I've been without her
Yet sometimes it still seems like I'm still with her
I've cried a lot of tears
Throughout those empty years
And my memory never dims cause I still love her.

I wake up in the night when it is raining
Somehow it seems to bring us back together
Although she's now a dream
She will always be a Queen
And my memory never dims cause I still love her.

The trees outside have grown so strong and sturdy
She planted them when we first moved in here
She said that when they've grown
It will be more like a home
And I know that this is true cause I still love her.

The music that I'm playing she never heard play
Another love has taught me about her way
She respects my love of you
And I know her love is true
And I know you wish me well because I love her.

For more than eight years I've been without her
Another love has come and I'm now with her
I no longer shed my tears
We'll move on through the years
And I know you wish me well because I love her.

DAWN OF OUR TIME
(c)2001 Liam

Dawn slowly rises
light rain falls, dripping softly.
Sun gradually awakening
as I watch from the study window.

Memories flood back,
as I feel the warmth of day
remembering how secure
you made me feel in your embrace.

Feeling your hands
caress and touch
tempting my senses
creating soft flowing music.

Rhythmns pulsating
softly, slowly, lovingly
our rain swirling together
as the dawn of our begining
stays forever fresh upon my mind
this sweet memory of my beloved.

UNDER SHADY ELM
Count de Monet

There, under shady elm I lie
soft shuttered memories
about her shant die
Each face I see, each heart that beats
Belies a fear, where tranquillity meets
In devoted moments
of a sheltered life
The peace of our love
still devoid of strife
Repels the rain, that falls 'round leaves
Reopen a life, where each lover believes
is it skies, or my eyes that cry
for long lost times from blinded eyes?
Our lovemaking played like a soft refrain
from arias that spellbound us once again
We were the composers
We were the song
We forgot the words
that we knew all along
And so, my Once Love,
as the music fades
I shall fondly remember
All the memories we made