Steven+Youngjean

My Podcast of Monolguemedia type="file" key="Steven Chung's Speech Recording.m4a"

Topic: Rain 

February Rain by Mark Slaughter To be the mud, the bog, the mire; To soak the bones in February – Eons from the autumn shower– Even from a summer berry!

Sparrows chirp a desperate call, Darting questions at the cows – Oblivious to the dousing squall, they Churn the sludge with pastern ploughs.

The crying air was lost in rhythm: Drums incessant in the drops; Not a chance for rainbow prism – Even if the hammering stops!

Metallic chills entrap machines – Tractors hushed within the shed. Inside the house, a full cuisine To bless with mead – and little said!

But out across the tiring field, A sodden fox is hunting down His prey of sorts – but nil of yield; Perhaps he’ll starve; perhaps he’ll drown.

Still the clouds are hammering, Hammering home their dreary aim – A chatterbox in constant yammering, Drenching all to make a claim.

Spring Rain by Matsuo Basho

Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps' nest.

My Sneaking Tears

by Mark Slaughter From burdened clouds of mournful grey. The torrent forced them stay their height - Composure swayed by onerous might.
 * How heavy fell the rain that day

My skin wrung wet with icy chill As mud embraced that sodden hill. But mind of mine had elsewhere gone - 'Twas clouds abandoned I was on.

The driving drops advanced their gears To camouflage my sneaking tears - Whence now did swell such floods of pain To see me melt into this rain…

On equal bearing now were we: This rain; myself, in harmony. ||