Drought Poems
The Drought
by Gary Soto
The clouds shouldered a path up the mountains
East of Ocampo, and then descended,
Scraping their bellies gray on the cracked shingles of slate.
They entered the valley, and passed the roads that went
Trackless, the houses blown open, their cellars creaking
And lined with the bottles that held their breath for years.
They passed the fields where the trees dried thin as hat racks
And the plow's tooth bit the earth for what endured.
......
Stillbirth (Memories of 1987)
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Within my own axis,
It did not slant
It did not drizzle.
The void shunned the grey clouds.
Lightning was rare.
Thunder turned mute.
Leaf-tops shook with the sleepiness of
Shameless drunks, casting ghoulish shades,
Causing affrays among wild species.
Rivulets rippled in hunger and in thirst,
......
westland yard
by Anton Mikhaltsov
Rise (circle)
by wise dry grasses
yellow daffodil
twist the arms
out of shady green masses
bruised that spring still
drops
on westland yard
draw like
......
April Show-ers
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
I was a zealous meteorologist, which I had been for a long time,
As the roving years work diligently, to create a very fine wine.
So content in my fond vocation, many deemed me tops in my field,
As golden sunshine streams from above, causing nature to yield!
Weather had long allured me, and I found its patterns riveting,
Like hearing thunder miles away, even when you're not listening.
People I knew often consulted me, and I loved giving forecasts,
......
Stillbirth (Memories of 1987)
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Within my own axis,
It did not slant
It did not drizzle.
The void shunned the grey clouds.
Lightning was rare.
Thunder turned mute.
Leaf-tops shook with the sleepiness of
Shameless drunks, casting ghoulish shades,
Causing affrays among wild species.
Rivulets rippled in hunger and in thirst,
......
April Show-ers
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
I was a zealous meteorologist, which I had been for a long time,
As the roving years work diligently, to create a very fine wine.
So content in my fond vocation, many deemed me tops in my field,
As golden sunshine streams from above, causing nature to yield!
Weather had long allured me, and I found its patterns riveting,
Like hearing thunder miles away, even when you're not listening.
People I knew often consulted me, and I loved giving forecasts,
......
westland yard
by Anton Mikhaltsov
Rise (circle)
by wise dry grasses
yellow daffodil
twist the arms
out of shady green masses
bruised that spring still
drops
on westland yard
draw like
......
The Drought
by Gary Soto
The clouds shouldered a path up the mountains
East of Ocampo, and then descended,
Scraping their bellies gray on the cracked shingles of slate.
They entered the valley, and passed the roads that went
Trackless, the houses blown open, their cellars creaking
And lined with the bottles that held their breath for years.
They passed the fields where the trees dried thin as hat racks
And the plow's tooth bit the earth for what endured.
......
