Night rain came
in sparkling waves
and sheets like stars
falling through streetlights –
jasmine vines brush
against the window –
green, flowered hair;
scented pendulums swaying
in rhythm to the
inconstant wind.
Window pane
susurrations lull me
into watery dreams.
A contest entry
- PIF - three of my favorite things by tara wilson.
1200 points, ended May 22, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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The way this is being delivered, the voice exemplifies ones' true emotion. The inviting and descriptive tones are just righteous.
This part is breathless:
jasmine vines brush
against the window –
green, flowered hair;
scented pendulums swaying
in rhythm to the
inconstant wind.
a very good poem - beautiful.

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"susurration" - a whisper or murmur
I love this word, too, and this poem...thanks so much for entering.
The mood is what I love most about rain and this poem..esp. at night.. and you have captured this perfectly...I love your imagery, voice, tone, and movement...
I also love 'watery dreams.'
thank you


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Few things better than to be lulled to sleep by the rain and the sweet scent of jasmine. Loved the use of the word "susurrations" here (I remember I once used it too - a long time ago and if I remember it was something like "susurrate an upsurge of doves from my breast")
.
Lovely poetry - sweet and serene.
~ Nicolette


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I love the rain, stars, and jasmine is my favorite scent, so I couldn't be more content in having chosen this particular work of yours to read first.
I can feel your poetic prose with all my senses and yet, more. You write with imagery that has volume, that reaches beyond, to spaces only visited in dreams.
Well done. You write with a certain richness and texture I can't quite describe. And I like it!
Kelly

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Excellent imagery through out this piece
and it read very smoothly best of luck in your contest


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Ah. I loved this poem ...
for its wondrous visuality and fragrance ... Nothing so enchanting as a rainfilled night, turning light into stars and the glisten of wet on swaying jasmine curves ... That intoxicating smell of sweet freshness ...
Ah.
How beauty-filled a dark night with liquid dreams ...
Well done, Poet.
Myra


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