I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world,
to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

21 June 2016

Intense Rain

Pounding rain, cold rain, flooding rain – it arrives with plenty of warning, with a feeling of inevitability, of doom. It tells us, ‘Yes, here is Winter.’ It travels all down the long east coast of Australia, even to my dear little birth island, so tiny it is sometimes left off the map. I am glad to be far north of there now, removed from that paralysing, deep-frost cold I once knew well. My body still remembers. I remember, too, through all these decades, the aftermath of rain in rural Tasmania: the particular pervasiveness of water dripping from leaves long after the deluge ceased. In this present downpour, everywhere floods – the whole coast, even that island. Here, in the warmer sub-tropics, in the small town where I live now, only the section near the river goes under. Up on my hill, just out of town, I barricade myself inside my cosy house and wait it out.

after the rain
one slow, constant drip –
heavy footsteps














Written for Haibun Monday: 50 Shades of Rain, at dVerse. (I realise belatedly that I was supposed to use the Japanese word for intense rain, shinotsukuame, as my title – but I've constructed this around using the English phrase, so it will have to stay.)

18 comments:

  1. How interesting to discover you are from Tasmania. The rain sounds so intense and cold. Where you live now sounds milder but still you barricade yourself. It is good you have Selene with you. In the haiku, comparing the drips to footsteps gives am ominous gone to this. It is 93f here but this makes me feel cold

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  2. This makes me long for rain, Rosemary. I simply love it. Probably because I live in the desert, where it is so rare (and when it does come, so beautiful.)

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  3. Well done! I agree, I could feel this one as well... bone-chilling.

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  4. You kNow.. iT's fUnny
    my FriEnd.. even in my
    late 40's.. the cOld.. raiN..
    and even heaT botHeRed me
    so much when i was a sitter
    most always in front
    of a screen.. then..

    DanCinG naked comfort..
    aLL iN yEar noW 'round.. out
    side re-Tired As Nature Real..:)

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  5. Rain sounds so ominous, so much coming at once, a returning disaster. But to seek shelter from the rain away from a river sounds perfect.

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  6. Heavy footsteps.. that last line took my breath away!

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  7. Our weather has been like that of late Rosemary, today in the Hunter Valley it is cold and the wind strong enough to blow a dog off a chain. This time of year I bet you are pleased to be well north of Tasmania.

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  8. Thank you for the peek into your world! :) I love the idea of being on the higher hill, with the rain pooling below and you cosy waiting it out. You've characterized those moments after the rain so well here.....the dripping -- the dropping -- sometimes like heavy footsteps. Really enjoyed this post! :) PS: just noticed the photo of you in the witches cap on the sidebar!

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    1. The cap is for fun. What it represents is real. :-)

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  9. Perhaps I'm a touch crazy but I'm long for some of that "deep-frost cold" now, in midst of the heat and wet of a summer on the bayou. Rain provides so many sensual, intimate ways to write - thanks for sharing your home.

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  10. Intensity reigns supreme in this Rosemary. Great work. I chose this rain as well!

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  11. I always enjoy your glimpses into life in Australia, Tasmania. Your love of nature pours through in all your poetry.

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  12. An experienced chronicler of precipation! I like the doom-laden haiku very much.

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  13. Sounds like a meteorologist's dream!

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  14. "Rain, rain go away"...your haibun made me shiver, Rosemary. But sounds like your weather down under is anything but dull!

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  15. All of your haibun is wonderful but I love the heavy footsteps!

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  16. You certainly know your rain. I enjoyed learning about your birthplace. The contrasts in your haibun work well...with the "paralyzing deep-frost cold" to the warm comfort of your cozy house.

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