Thursday, April 21, 2011


Scorched earth calls out
Wearied plants lift their arms
The cacti are withering
And still you are denied

The heat rises before my eyes
Distorting the distance
Leaving puddles of dust
And still you are denied

Calling for cloud cover
And wasting away
The storm brews in the distance
But still you are denied

Pressing together parched lips
My tongue sticks in my throat
The storm brews overhead
And still you are denied

The desert floor embraces me
Face upward to the skies
Your wetness from my lips
Has no longer been denied


Olivia J. Herrell said...

Hi Marjorie, this is beautiful! I clicked over from Eric Trant's blog. Nice to meet you!

~ that rebel, Olivia

Karen Walker said...

Just lovely. Thank you so much.

Crystal Pistol said...

Wow. This made me realy thirsty! my throat IS stuck to my throat. Great imagery.

Crystal Pistol said...

oop thats tongue stuck to my throat. silly me

welcome to my world of poetry said...

Beautiful Marjorie a tear jerker for me.

Thanks for your comment as alway appreciated.

Arlee Bird said...

Very, very nice. Now I need a drink of water.

Tossing It Out

Leovi said...

Excellent poem about one of my favorite elements, the rain. I love the rain when it does no harm, I love walking under a soft Luvia, Greetings.

Fa L'Americana said...

Lovely poem! It made rain seem almost... erotic.

Angela Felsted said...

Great use of repetition. I can feel the narrator's relief when the rain starts falling.

Angela Felsted said...

It it about a kiss?

Tundiel said...

Another lovely poem, Marjorie!

There's a little something for you on my blog today. :)