Sky and Earth in Rain- 4 Poems

by Jane Tawel

https://unsplash.com/photos/bWtd1ZyEy6w

Sky and Earth in Rain

Four Poems

By Jane Tawel

March 13, 2021

Poem One

*

Sky’s brow sweats with labor;

the earth is replenished

with heaven’s pleasing perspiration.

Earth, in her turn, turns.

Round and round and round

flinging ocean, sea, and pond

back into Sky’s opened-mouth face.

Sky as Heaven, Earth as Gaia,

powerful in servitude to each other;

delighting in shared toiling.

Earth dances, opening herself up

to Sky’s rain and — 

both, so in love!

Heaven and Gaia merge,

symbiotic in creation.

*

Poem Two

*

The blues of sky are borne-away

and seeming dead in grey hues,

mourning clouds as black as burial clothes,

the world looks up at the bereavement.

Only the old folks will watch the sky

and know — 

Surprising endings make the best stories.

*

Ah, the sky’s eyes are tearing-up!

Only the parents know

the welcome oxymoron of the heavens’ happy tears.

Light, though hidden, eyes though clouded,

Love’s light, like the sun, never leaves the heart.

*

Rain is heavens’ tears shed in joy.

The skies know that nothing ever really dies.

The casket opens around the keening clouds.

The heavens resurrect themselves

pouring the gift of life

into earth’s open-armed delight.

*

Poem Three

*

The canopy of sky folds,

and through the gaps of cover,

all heaven breaks loose;

the earth is bathed from head to toe.

And dirty roots and filthy feet and pining pinnacles,

are washed with grace of falling rain.

*

Poem Four

*

The sky husbands the earth,

his seed pours forth,

and earth open’s up to sky’s embrace.

*

Love, given and received;

the over-whelming mystery of earth and sky,

true soul- mates, wed forever,

bearing all.

The earth opens to

all sky’s love -spent pourings.

And at earth’s breast

all children are fed.

New life from married bliss.

© Jane Tawel 2021

The River’s Daughter – Thoughts and Poem

The River’s Daughter

By Jane Tawel

April 6, 2020

 

Rain Rain Come Again

“Rain Rain Come Again” by Marvelous Kerala is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

 

We’ve had some glorious rain these past days – rare here. I think with everyone sheltering in, and perhaps less smog in the sky because of that, the rain has found more room in our skies.  I love rain and will miss it dearly, knowing its season is always quite short where I live.  This is a rather simplistic but heartfelt attempt, once more, to write an ode to a long-time love of mine – Rain.

I have written several poems about rain and this is the second one that owes much and my deepest thanks to J.R.R. Tolkien’s worldview and specifically his character, Goldberry. I am a pathetic writer and imaginer when compared with the great Tolkien, and I would again and again advise people to read his works over and over again as I have done and will continue to do.  But though I may be humbled by comparison, I am eternally grateful for people like Tolkien who have made me, I hope, a much better human being. At a minimum, the works of writers like Tolkien have made me a much more fulfilled and hopeful seeker.

 

 

The River’s Daughter

By Jane Tawel

*

 

I never hated rainy days.

I always dearly loved them.

There was strange joy, being taken away

From sun and waves and friends.

I found friends old and new in books,

While sheltering-in my bed or nook;

And I, with maybe just a cup,

Of something warm, would stay curled up,

My heart fulfilled its deepest longing,

With dribble drops and pitter-patter song-ing.

 

*

 

And some dear days, umbrella-less,

I’d walk outside, quite fella-less,

But nonetheless, romantic joys

Were mine, regardless of no boys.

I’d lift my face to be caressed

By raindrops, which with great finesse,

Would make my yearning skin quite tingle.

And tears and drops would then co- mingle

In rain’s requited passion, joy, and pain,

That I would find, embracing me, while I embraced my rain.

*

My days are long now and nights are restless,

And memories more prone to stress-tests.

I live in seeming endless deserts,

And thirst for rain’s a constant consort.

*

 

My friends are few and treasured,

But they find different pleasures,

And extrovertly walk in droves,

And find their treasures in the troves,

Of sun and heat and bright blue skies.

But though those things may please my eyes,

I still love best mist, fog and grey;

They brighten up my sojourned days.

In rain I find my source of light,

There are no purer, truer sights,

Of what the world can make and hold,

Of growth, and promise, life and soul.

*

I walk in rain alone,

Or worship it at home.

I never feel I’m friendless,

When I can fill my senses,

With all the ways to pray and play,

In cheerful, watery, rainy days.

*

My pulse is quickened by thundering love,

When lightening throbs in temples above;

And though the streams or seas are distant,

My ardor will remain persistent,

For all things water, water, water,

For liquid is my sacred matter.

Ah, when the world has turned aquatic,

The rain holds my life embryotic.

In showery worlds are room after room,

For this child born of Water’s Womb.

*

 

And when the rains have finally ceased,

I’ll be a squatter in sun’s peace.

And in my mind, I’ll float away,

Remembering—dreaming of the day,

That Fortune will return to me,

The place I dearest love to be.

For I, the River’s Daughter,

Am only home, when I’m in water.

10502152_753243838031494_3009644140909250663_n.jpg

My Daughter Clarissa and I –circa 2014