My first attempt at poetry in more than three years. This is short.Be kind, and brutal.
The Rain Ceased
It no longer rains in my chair
I seem to have rescinded my share
The gods have requested for a hiatus
and it’s all gone, the care
I curse the wisps of the sun
the accompanying scorching heat
But my words, oh dear
I need a cursing megaphone
Or a new voice, the old is tiring
I am done, because the rain no longer rains upon my head.
My scalp is dry, sahara in harmattan looks better
I need some moisture, I can’t even lap on the dew