Nostalgic Rain


This is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago, while working at a boring hotel job, and trying to find inspiration on a super dreary rainy day.


Visions of news-spread hurricanes

light fires in my mind.

Memories of lives broken

from Mother’s daunting hand.

Washed away in one slow flow—

millions watching, unknowing,

Until they see the slow glow

from their televisions, they receive “truth”.


I slip my hand out-of-doors,

safe from Mother’s moistness.

Shelter above protects me

from cold windblown droplets.

Only the air makes it real.

No other fragrance so calming.


Flickering anecdotes from childhood past

light my forgetful spirit.

Oblivious cavorting, frolicking in bliss.

Delighted with Mother’s change in disposition.

Is the rainbow just an illusion

of sprightliness washed clean?


All my hand grasps is soft trickles of the drops,

And the brilliant rush of aliveness.

Soaking, remembering, shivering,

touching, tasting, smelling.

Infancy to demise, that single scent

always inducing nostalgia.


About AmbleDamsel

Truthfully, I’m writing this blog because I’m too much of a wimp to share my poems with most people I know. I’m hoping this blog will be a way to get honest feedback about them, without offending anyone. I generally prefer to write privately, and with pen and paper. There’s just something much more therapeutic & enjoyable about actually handwriting something–a better feeling than any lousy keyboard could ever give me! People who inspire me: John Lennon, Keri Smith, Sabrina Ward Harrison, Conor Oberst, Ethel Kennedy, Brooks Strause, Charles Bukowski, Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, E.E. Cummings, Charles Dickens, Henry Darger, and Orly Avineri.

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