Nocturnal Rain
The drip. The splash of water diluted mud.
These things I hear in the night,
But Ah! I recognize them.
I know them. I know them from above and from below.
The sprinkling falling rain chiming.
The ground above, a thousand small thumps.
From either side, I know I like it.
Above, it is the sweet sound of a gloomy night.
A night to be out, standing, dancing, chanting,
to the howl of the wind.
The rain; drenching me.
The mud below my feet, between my toes.
My hair wet, dripping on my body, soaking into me.
The Lightning and Thunder come to play and sing.
The call is to Me, for me they are here.
And Ah! I recognize them, and they know me.
Below it is the pounding sound of the softening ground.
The exit.
My blank, useless eyes open, but I see.
Yes, I see.
I reach to the loose dirt above, claw at it,
scratch through it.
It trickles down upon me, covering me.
Still I grope.
I hear the repeating drums from above,
calling me.
And Ah! I recognize them, and they call to me louder.
I feel the expected mud squish at my fingertips,
I know I am close.
Dig, claw, jerk-the coldness of freedom.
Grab and pull up-the wind on my soiled hand.
Gasp!
Gasp for the air my lungs no longer need.
Still it is fresh.
The drops fall from an upward abyss,
Slapping my face,
smacking me clean.
The rush of Lightning and the Thunder behind-
crackling-cackling.
And Ah! I recognize them, and they know me and shudder.
DLF ‘04
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This is a pretty good poem. I feel like you have a lot to work with, and yet you do sort of say the same thing over and over.
This is nit-picky, but why are lightning and thunder capitolized? This is my favorite part of your poem, the lightning and thunder recognizing you.
I am really bothered by the use of the word freedom in this poem. You have been so full of images and imaginable things until that point, and that point is the one where I really need clarity, and then you throw in that lousy abstraction that really doesn’t mean anything (at least not something I can see/hear/feel/taste/smell)
Is someone digging a grave, or being buried alive?
Superb! It’s dark and delightful. The imagery is clear, and you know what is going on, though it’s never directly said. I love the idea that the rain and thunder has been calling. I felt lucky, when I read it, that I’d stumbled upon the exact moment when the writer exhumed themself, because the words illustrated that they were familiar with this call, and finally decided to act upon it.
My only suggestions would be, instead of ‘grab and pull up-’ ’grab, heft, expose-’ or something along those lines, to match the feel of the preceeding line. I think it would smooth out that stanza. I would also consider changing the ‘Nocturnal’ in the title. I would consider something along the lines of ‘unnatural’. And I have but one question, how do they know it’s night, for sure?
Overall, I gave it one of the highest ratings I’ve ever given, and shall be putting it in my favorites.
I’m not going to say anything about content, because it’s not really my thing, but I can offer you some more general ideas. The biggest thing I noticed that you could improve on is extraneous words. You have some redundancy, too many adjectives in certain places. For instance, I might revise the first two stanzas like this:
The drip, splash of diluted mud.
These things I hear in the night…
but I recognize them.
I know them from above and below.
Sprinkling rain chiming.
The ground above, a thousand small thumps.
Either side, I know I like it.
When you take out some of those little, unneeded words, it makes the poem a lot less bogged down and much easier to read. But by all means, ignore this if you feel it would compromise your style too much.
Wow this is really great. Its so dark and mysterious, yet there is something so sexy about it. I know that sounds strange but I got that feeling from it. Maybe its the way you describe different elements covering this character. I give it a 10 all around!
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