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There will come soft rain by Sarah Teasdale There will come soft rain and the smell of ground, and swallows circling and in there shimmering sound; And frogs in pools singing at night and wild plum trees in tremulous white. Robins will wear there feathery fire, Whistling their whims from a low fence wire. And not one will know of the war and not one will care when it is done. Not one would mind niether bird, nor tree if mankind perished utterly.. And spring herself when she wake at dawn would scarly know that we were gone.. ameshin I'm 22 years old, from California, USA. | ||||||||||||||||
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This one is called Ponderances. Winter night, rainy shower and thunder rumbling from it's undaunting tower. I lay my shelter of stone and steel protected from all harshness, mother earth so shall reveal. I curl around my fire tight; mesmerized by flicker 'n flight. Pop and crackle your death cry rings. I embrace your warmth my body deep; and for your soul I weep. For you are as I and I as you; You dead and dying which we all must do! I see my pale image behind the flicker of the fire. Disappearing amongst the smoke prior. By Jeremy Salley
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