It’s been two weeks of unrelenting gray drizzle and drip out there; I’ve forgotten what the sun looks like, but I think it may blind me if it ever peeks out from behind the clouds, again. The world is damp and it feels like brain rot’s about to set in. In fact, the past week has brought nothing but vertigo, nausea, and an irritating escalation of tinnitus – even the silent moments now sound like mosquitoes with tiny little castanets, and to swat at them is to smack myself upside the head. Antivert is effective enough, but to take it during the work day is to risk being found snoring with my head resting atop a keyboard.
Naturally, some chipper little part of me that hasn’t died already is enthusiastically piping up with nonsense like, “I know! Let’s write a poem!” I glare at it. I snarl from a crawlspace beneath the stairs to the cellar in my imagination. If looks could kill, it would’ve died, already. Instead, it takes perverse delight in drawing inspiration from the dank and mush of what’s left of my gray matter. That only makes me feel grumpier, but it is as persistent as the rain and as irritatingly cheerful as the birds chirping over the worms that swim on the surface of the mud puddles in my back yard before dawn. I give it another week; nothing can hold out that long. The rest of me gave up days ago.
Damp and Drear
Gritty, gray cloud-sponge
slowly squeezed by unseen hands,
Wrung dry; released to heave a sigh
and suck the moisture up again.
Trees, drought-parched, slake thirsts
with roots that rot from deep within;
As dreary dripping washes over all –
incessant, undulating bands.
Percussive rain
Against the syncopated, joyous chirp
Of early risers, plucking worm-strings. Dissonance
Of wet, indignant cat – like me, too weather-worn
To bother with the hunt.
HollyJahangiri
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You wrote a poem; snicker! Do I assume your bit of gray skies is a rare event, or is this a seasonal thing there?
For what it’s worth, being the 2nd cloudiest city in the country affords us many gray days, many that also come with some type of precipitation. I remember September 1981 when it rained 29 of 30 days and then, on October 1st, a tree next to our house fell… barely missing the house.
Just another day in “paradise” lol
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Geez, was it THAT bad?
Oh, it wouldn’t surprise me if the tree roots rotted and loosed their hold on the sodden muck.
Houston has two seasons: hot and humid and hot and rainy. We get about a week of chilly weather. Some years, it even ices over – briefly. Not much, though, and it doesn’t last. It’s 57 degrees here right now. And still raining. Permeating damp. Surprise, surprise…there’s a flood warning. (Well, not too close to me – unless it flows our way on the creeks and bayous.) It’s just boring and wet and depressing. I need a sun lamp. I must be part lizard.
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When they built the house there was an empty lot next to it. They dug into the ground for my parent’s lot so it was about 1 to 2 feet lower. The tree sat right on the edge; it was bad planning but no one thought about it until the tree fell.
Part lizard; that’s funny, especially with you originating from the north lol
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Technically, I ORIGINATED in the south. But I’ve lived all over the place – I have a foot in the south and a foot in the north, and wish all the places I loved were populated with people who’d stop squabbling.
In 2 months, the poem will bitch about bright lights, heat, humidity, dryness,summer insects, and people like me who leave comments.
Gads, she’s the re-incarnation of Edgar Allan Poe… !!!!!
“Gads, she’s the re-incarnation of Edgar Allan Poe… !!!!!” Gosh, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day!
You need a better day! LOL!
Better looking and probably better educated, too….
BUT: In different areas. There are likely many things Allen could do that neither of us could figure out. Which might be something to write about.
Lack of sunlight always makes me grumpy, too. What a great idea to vent by writing a poem!
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Thanks! It felt better than JUST bitchin’ and moanin’ about it. And look here – the sun came out!
What will you do in our monsoon Holly? My favourite season when the whole earth gets washed off of its sins!
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Good God, man… it would take a lot to wash this earth clean of all its sins. Nice thought, but having just watched Noah last night, I think we should probably work harder at getting our act together and just not sinning so much, eh?
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