Poetry therapy

Rain
Its smell permeating the air
Pervading my thoughts.

I battle
To keep my mind on dry ground
My heart is sinking
Sinking
into deep puddles
Brown and muddy.
My white frock soaks up the brown
I'm helpless as I stand
Entrapped
Sinking.
Sinking.

Summer rain,
Where art thou's joy?
Bring me thy sunshine and gentle mists,
Sunflowers and daisies and blue skies.
No
this is the black monsoon
Of dark clouds and thunder,
Banging doors and howling winds,
Soggy shoes and wet trousers ends.
And
a dirty wet lizard on the bathroom floor,
half-dead.

Shape poetry workshop this afternoon. That's why.

I started off all melancholic and touchy-feely. After the second stanza my melancholia was pretty much cured. Hence the vision of summer rain and fun. Then I thought of that baby lizard 'pliak' on the bathroom floor. It crawled in to look for shelter from the rain. Ugh. Gross.

Writing poetry is sooo therapeutic! Maybe I should submit this for the shape poetry competition. In the shape of a lizard maybe?

*Shape poetry = poetry written out in the form of a shape or drawing.