A rant in rhyme in praise of rain

The header image of this post is worded “un noo po-him”, or “ə ˈnuː ˈpoʊəm”, phonetically spelled: a new poem. I was being a bit silly, but poetry is, after all, about how words sound. In this poem, it is about how the rhymes sound a bit like rain.

Here in Mainland British Columbia, we have had the usual Winter weather, which vacillates between fog, rain, snow, sleet, and freezing fog. It has been raining a lot. Mind you, that’s what the weather is like here: a lot of rain is the status quo.

The rain makes things verdant and lush, and makes the rivers run deep and full of salmon, and makes the forests so green they look like they have been carved out of emeralds. I often look at all that lovely clear water in the creeks, just rushing away to the sea, on and on and on, with neither a dam nor a reservoir between them and the ocean, and I think of what a waste it is.

I like the rain. I am really not sympathetic towards people who live here and moan about the rain, as if it is something that they can change.

So I wrote a poem about it. Writing poems is a good way to vent, I think.

It contains a reference to lyrics from the musical “My Fair Lady” that anyone of A Certain Age will recognize. I was actually humming that song when the poem got started in my head.

A rant in rhyme in praise of the rain

RAIN WILL FALL

Poemlet by the Bear of Little Brain

Consider the fact that the rain
around these parts (and not in Spain),
falls not only on the plain
but all over (in the main),
once the Fall season has begun.

It’s living in an aquifer
for about eight months of the year.
People moan, in damp and drear
that the End of the World is Near!
But why should rain upset someone?

It’s what it is, it’s in the air.
The clouds clear up, and people stare
up at the sky, to check what’s there,
and then remark, as if it’s rare: 
“Oh thank God, there is the sun!”

Moaning about it doesn’t matter.
All the social media chatter
is simply an attention-getter.
The fact is: Here, the weather’s wetter.
The rain will fall until it’s done.

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The form

It’s 4 quintains (or quintets), meaning 4 verses with 5 lines per verse. Rhyme scheme: coupled rhymes except for the last line of each quintain: AABBC – DDEEC – FFGGC – HHIIC, etc. It is like raindrops chasing each other down a window-pane: plop-plop-drip-drip-dribble, plop-plop-drip-drip-dribble. See? The rhyme scheme is like the patterns made by the rain.

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