Sometimes here in Asunción, as we're heading into a South American autumn, it rains all day and all night. The roof on the room where I teach is made of tin, and sometimes we just have to stop class and listen to the noise that drowns us out. "Drowns" is the right word, as I imagine the roof giving way and the water coming in and washing us all away.
One day I read "April Rain Song" with a group of students. I had misjudged my audience, and their main response was to giggle madly at the word "kiss." (I'll put a video of that poem at the end of my post.) And certainly the poem seems much too mild for the kind of rain we have here. Rather than "kiss," maybe we could say "batter." Instead of "a little sleep song" it's more like "a pounding cacophony."
I went looking for rain poems that were more in tune with these rains. I searched "monsoon," but nothing seemed quite right. Then I found this one, "Rain Before Seven," by Vincent Starrett, published in Poetry Magazine in 1943. It's not talking about Paraguay, but it does capture that way that the rain erases everything else, and makes you think of oceans and the end of the world.
Here it is:
Rain Before Seven
Vincent Starrett
It was raining hard when I left my bed and stood
By the window overlooking the trees and street;
And the sound of the rain was the sound of the rain in flood:
There was only the sound of the rain in the steady beat.
I thought: there is rain like this on the farthest seas;
There is darkness over the earth, and rain must fall;
I heard its ceaseless drip in the leaves of trees.
And the busy race of water beside the wall.
I thought: at the very end it will be like this,
When the long last night comes on, and the only sound
Is the sound of the steadfast rain, its chuckling hiss
In the leaves of trees, its beat on the sodden ground.
But I thought: if I live a thousand years and a night
I shall not forget how the quick drops gleamed and shone
Like beads of fire on the leaves, and the secret light
Of a street lamp, waiting up for the laggard dawn.
And here's my haiku from yesterday's rainstorm:
On the soccer goal
Yellow birds in driving rain
Squawking, “Kiskadee!”
© Ruth Bowen Hersey
11 comments:
You find the most perfect poems for the moments in your life, Ruth. And the other night, we had a similar rough rain. I just wanted our old man cat to come inside...and he did. Thank you for your reflections and poems and those yellow birds singing different songs than our goldfinches, reminding everyone that there is beauty to be found, even in storms. xo
It is so rare to have that kind of rain in Denver, but I grew up in Missouri & remember them, especially driving in them, terrifying. I know about those tin roofs, rode my horse in a barn with one, yes, drowns out every other noise. What a great teacher you are to find poems for the rainy moment, Ruth. And thanks for this old poem, perfect for you. It was fun to read about your students & "kiss", too. Thanks for all!
Oh, that rain poem is amazing. "I thought: at the very end it will be like this,..." Wow. And thank you for sharing a little image from your life. I'm glad you find birds, even in the driving rain!
Fab poem! I imagine your students enjoyed it. :)
I'm like Linda B. No big rains for me growing up, but I certainly live in the land of deluge now. Especially with climate change. We never used to get INCHES of rain at a time, but it's frequent now...
I love reading about your adventurous life, Ruth, and the way you connect it back to poetry. Thank you.
You made me LOL more than once here, Ruth. Way to find a pounding cacophony poem that brings some stillness along with it. Stay dry under that tin roof!
Ruth, fun post. Thank you for the rain poems. Wouldn't it be fun to have your students use Langston Hughes' "April Rain Song" and rewrite certain words to fit the rains in Paraguay this season. I like your start: 'Rather than "kiss," maybe we could say "batter." Instead of "a little sleep song" it's more like "a pounding cacophony."' Fun!
You've made me think about the spectrum of rain - from gentle, barely-there sprinkles to torrents. Your haiku paints a vivid picture in so few words. The voice of the bird in the rainstorm makes me think of finding hope in the middle of the storms in our lives. Thanks for sharing these poems with us this week.
I can relate, Ruth. Last weekend I was walking in a nearby park and got pounded by rain and barely escaped some hail. (Thank goodness for the tennis pavilion & its shelter.)
¡Que tengas una buena semana con los estudiantes!
Oh what a scrumptious post Ruth! It's raining here, steady but soft pattering on the roof. I loved the video of Langston Hughes, the lovely sounds the words make wrapping around each other in Rain Before Seven, and your driving "Kiskadee!" haiku, thanks!
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