The rythem of the rain Arouses a tribal dance for the soul No two experiences the same But if heard, the dance makes us whole Swaying to and fro, back and forth The drops apply scared war paint to my face In rapture hands rise to the heavens North The scent of blood my prey I trace The rythem surging madly through my veins I race against time Urgent primal needs remain The answer is what I seek and will find
Reason for writing:
I wrote this poem in the middle of the night while it was raining.
The sound of the rain hitting the roof of my house reminded me of a dance.
I would like to know if anyone has any constructive critisism and what you thought of my poem.
Birth sign: Not entered
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