A Rain Blows In

[lallison]

shore.
I pineapple and bananas

[Lumiere]

Ah, SOS!
(Sob Of the Spine, coined by Nabokov: that place where words resonate! And how your words do resonate!)

as each year the weather creased another anonymous line in my cheek

has such impact I almost wished it was the final line.

Thanks, lall, for capturing this difference: metro from rural loneliness.

[Hawkman]

Another gem, lall.

"Listen, I remember a different life in the city.
The rain was full of strangers.
Horns and engines drowned the noise from the wind.
That was a gentler loneliness, free from the pulls of civility
as each year the weather creased another anonymous line in my cheek
and cruelty was someone I didn’t know."

The only changes I might suggest would be to replace the full-stops with commas after city and strangers which would improve the flow a little. I would also suggest:

"Horns and engine noise drowned the sound of the wind."

I'm with Lumiere with regard to your last line too. The mention of cruelty sort of comes out of nowhere with the rest of the poem being a gentle reflection on place and time.

But as always you paint vivid pictures which speak to the reader and communicate your thoughts and feelings with great skill. Great poem.

H

[hillwalker]

Very evocative - another welcome glimpse into the world of lallison we all appreciate so much.

I did find that the phrase 'old coconuts' jarred with the mood slightly, putting me in mind of a fairground or 'old chestnuts' (a colloquial term for old jokes) - perhaps that word 'old' might be reconsidered??

H

[PrinceMyshkin]

The lines


The rain was full of strangers.
Horns and engines drowned the noise from the wind.
That was a gentler loneliness, free from the pulls of civility


especially touched me in this beautifully unfolded poem.

[lallison]

Thanks for the feedback. I wrote this a while ago, when I was living in a little village on Kosrae, an island in Micronesia. I changed a few things based on some of the advice, I guess this one has a few personal allusions in it, referring to some observations I made about the village life, and one friend in particular. I have to keep the old coconuts line. Think about living in a place where one must be constantly weary of old coconuts, which can cause quite a bit of damage to your head, not to mention a car windshield. And I have to keep the last line too. I like it because it works both literally and figuratively. I changed cruelty to indifference, but I think I must change it back. Cruelty just fits better. (think of the difference between being lonely because you don't know anybody else or being lonely because the people you do know are cruel.) Maybe it's a it mediocre as it stands, but I like it anyhow. Thanks again for taking the time to read this and for your comments. I'm heading off to Atlanta for a week of visiting, and then moving to Manila. They've got an apartment for me, but not internet hook up as of yet, so I will probably not be on much for a few weeks. But don't think I've forgotten about you. : ) cheers! lal

[Bar22do]

I can hear it stirring through the branches,
pulling off green tangerines,
enticing old coconuts to drop,
and a murk dampens the sky.

It’s gathered now for hours from a tiny haze off shore.
I was planting pineapple and bananas to share with friends,
but now the air has changed,
and my thoughts are consumed by clouds.

Listen, I remember a different life in the city.
The rain was full of strangers;
horns and engines drowned the noise from the wind.
That was a gentler loneliness, free from the pulls of civility
as each year the weather creased another anonymous line into my cheek
and cruelty was someone I didn’t know.

I don't know whether my little comment reaches you still, as you're going to travel. I only now read your poem but what I find here as it is flows beautifully, a river of delicate lace emotion. I particularly love
"and my thoughts are consumed by clouds"
in this context. But also
"horns and engines drowned the noise from the wind", and of course
"the anonymous line into my cheek"...
I'm touched profoundly by your poem and especially because, as you write, it veils some personal elements which you don't compromise on. Thank you and be well and safe as you travel and hopefully Manila's loneliness will be gentle to you... and life will treat you well. Take care and come back to us the litneters, soon, for your voice has become by now an irreplaceable component of the "personal poetry" polyphony...

warm regards - Bar