In the rain

Published on by Laura Bloomsbury

Rain, rolling up eastward from Bristol, hurried
After the train. Travelling towards you…
Alan Ross ~ A Following Rain

I see an offshore rowboat
oars shipped, and seem to hear
a lap-tongued invitation
a whisper from the waters, to spirit away
to your side. And always I recall
our stolen escapade that day
over the Serpentine, beneath the bridge
passers-by imbibing our laughter. 

One October you sailed, solo
a hurried crossing. No warning, 
no time to map the nebulous way
towards the blue light. Gone from
my sight. I pray you did not linger
upon the Lethe, lulled into oblivion.
Nor felt the purgatorial pull of all
the left-behinds - but played them
as a cine film of someone else's making. 

But please do not forget to anchor there
and haul me safely up that farther shore.

[*Credence Clearwater Revival – Have you ever seen the rain ~ 1970]

After a record-breaking warm dry May, it’s refreshing to join Sarah’s Poetics prompt: Rain

39 thoughts on “In the rain”

  1. Oh, yes. I love the movement in this – an outer and an inner voyage – and the rain reflecting the movement, and acting as a memory key, and a metaphor for confusion. There’s so much here. And it sounds so good.

  2. This is just an amazing post….I most especially love the entire third stanza from the details of the sunflowers, to watching the rain run on the carriage windows. Just amazing description….and then the resigned disappointment that “you’ll” keep me waiting, in the rain, again.

  4. I agree with Sarah about the outer and inner voyage, with the rain reflecting the movement, Laura, and the anticipation being stretched in the ‘measured miles of line’. I imagine being on a train, back to the engine, with the ‘carriage windows running with rivulets’. I especially love the ‘myriad sparkling polka-dots / late afternoon rain / with the sun warming, lighting’ and the Credence Clearwater song – I remember that one well. The ending is a familiar scenario. Thank you for reminding me how much I love train journeys, even in the rain.

    1. I often go inner voyaging on trains though until yours and Sarah’s comment had never really been aware of it
      (been singing CCR since I wrote this poem – feel almost young again!)

  6. I like the play of “reflection” in the last stanza, both yours in the window and the thoughts in your mind.

  7. Such exquisite writing! The dual nature of the poem is skilfully done.
    My favorite part:
    “Through bleary illuminations, I see towns slip past
    the carriage windows running with rivulets
    sideways, upwards even. Gravity’s defied”

    1. train journeys give us time to register the passing scenery and so I made use of that in that stanza – you have understood the duality here – thank you

  9. There’s something about being alone in a car in the rain that tends to make one’s min drift. I never played the radio in my car when I traveled for business, and referred to it as my “think tank time”. Your lovely poem reminded me of those trips.

  10. I’m so impressed by your poetry. Can’t think of useful things to say about it but want you to know how much I enjoy it.

    1. its not just ego that really appreciates your comment Lucy but writing poetry we want to connect to someone somewhere like sending out message in a bottle. So pleased to still be able to connect to you after all our mutual years of blogging through thick and thin!

  11. Lovely imagery of the sideways/upwards rain. I took a photograph like that once. We have rain today in North Wales – heavy rain – I can hear the garden drinking it all in.

  15. I thoroughly enjoyed this … ‘playful tug-of-weather-war and I’m tugged
    further back to a song of youth’s heyday’ tugged at my heartstrings. Cheers.

  18. Love this poem, Laura!

    “We pass a field of sunflowers, not a hippie vision
    but a kind of triffid agricrop lifting burnished
    thirsty heads. ”

    great language in this

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