National Poetry and Writing Month: Friday the 13th!

Today’s poem is “Raining” in honor of the intense amount of rain I’ve been getting. Did you miss a few poems and want to check them all out? Read here. Want to keep track as they come out? Subscribe!

You may not have noticed what today was, but today’s special…or should I say, dangerous? It’s Friday, sure, but not any ordinary Friday. No, it’s simply Friday the 13th! Buckle down the hatches! Remain in bed all day and get fast-food to avoid mishaps! (Not really, that’s just for drama…)

There has been a lot of rain and wind today, no doubt a storm by the amount of water that’s coming down. My patio, which has a feeble cover, seems to have no dry space on it. Since rain is an extremely inspiring object for poems, I wrote about it. Here’s the poem:



pouring from the sky as from a broken pipe,

drenching the ground.

A pause, seeming as if it was done.

For hours,

no more rain, just clouds.


it begins again,

running down the window panes.

Wind billows the water in mist,

the patio and street,

even the air itself,

literally under-water.

Faster and faster the raindrops fall,

the water at least an eighth of an inch deep on the sidewalk,

splattering in huge drops.

The neighbor’s gutter can barely control the flow of water,

gushing over their roof.


lightning lances from the sky,

flashing down like a pike by my eyes.

I fall back in surprise,

startled by the closeness of it all,

waiting breathlessly for the count of seconds for distance.

Two, four, six, eight,

there, ten moments,

the strike was actually quite far away.

The roar of thunder,

like a half-tamed lion,

tumbles through the sky like a knocked over trashcan.

Nowhere outdoors is dry,

thunder alternating with flashes,

rain pounding the cement, you’d think there’d be erosion!

The streets start to flood,

cars slowly turning into boats,

No one is out at the moment.

All I hear is water,

just rushing,

and rushing,




I hear it dripping,

and dripping,

and dripping,




I smell it everywhere,

coating every available surface outside that could possibly be wet,

even seeping beneath pots and running under bushes.

The only place dry is my home,

where I witness this event,

and watch the


Rain, and water in particular, are some of the most inspiring things for me. Water to me is just…wow. Words do not say unless they’re in a poem. Speaking of poems, what about short ones? “I look at the sky,/seeing white, wispy pictures:/Pictures from a dream.” That’s a simple haiku. A few words in that sound strange make you pause and think. They show you things in a different way sometimes. That may be my manifestation of imagination tomorrow, who knows? In the future, we’ll know, but then there won’t be a use for the information.

More than three-quarters of our planet is made up of water. You are made up mostly of water. Therefore, all people feel some sort of attraction to or appreciation of water. It’s beautiful, it has interesting laws of physics, and it’s one of the few substances that can exist in “all” three forms of matter: gas (water vapor), liquid (obviously water), and solid (ice). (Note that these are not all forms of matter, since there are four: plasma is a completely different form of matter, but water is never found in the state of plasma) Your challenge for the day is to look at water, in any form, doing anything: dripping, running, sitting, falling, being drunk…write a haiku about what you see and how you see it. Use the word “Water” and the word “mine” in it at least once in context. These rules may seem like they’re extremely strict and tight like size-four pants, but your haiku is not going to be Shakespeare. A haiku is simple. A haiku doesn’t use very many words. But haikus are deep and can get meaning across more thoroughly than even the most specified description.

Just trying to explain things makes too many words get in the way and take you away from the basic meaning.



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