Tag Archives: rain

The smell of rain


Bernard, a free spirited man in his forties is with his wife, Amy, a close- minded woman in her mid-thirties. On their balcony. It’s about to rain.

Bernard: doesn’t it feel like rain?

Amy: looks like it, yeah

B: I was just wondering, do you, maybe…like, can you SMELL it?

A: rain has a scent?

B I don’t know, it gets kind of moist…sorta invigorating, but i don’t know how to put a finger on the smell…

A: its the smell of imagination. I have no clue what you are talking about, Berny.

B: neither do you, apparently.

A: oh really?

B: Yeah, I know plenty of people who can smell rain. its like another sense, Amy. Hey, have some fun, will you? you’re so uptight all of the time. Maybe it’s limiting you’re sense of imagination. Maybe you’re forgetting what freedom’s like. Come on, it’s rain! Have some fun!

A: Bernard James Patrickson, just because you earned a degree in psychology fifteen years ago does not mean you can try to be my shrink.

B: I’m not trying to be anything, Amy,I”m trying to be alive!

A: (looking away. Long pause.) do you want to go back inside and watch tv?

B: What?

A: Never mind. Do you want some ice-cream? some toast? I have Bryers ice cream in the fridge.

B: What are you talking about? Ames. I don’t want ice cream. I want you.

A: no, bern-

B: I want you, amy, I want you.

A: Stop saying that, berny, stop saying that!

B: But ames-

A: (shouting) stop saying that, just stop! ( lowering her voice). Can you just come back into the house, bern?

B: why- why are you always changing the subject?

AMY exits stage right.

B: Ames…

BERNARD burries his face in his hands.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry


Notes on the depression: Parts One and Two


As you may or may not have read, my first post on this blog was that of a poem relating to children living during the great depression. I find this topic exceedingly profound to write about, and there have been other absolutely perfect examples out there (A death in the family by James Agee-plus the gorgeous musical adaptation “Knoxville summer of 1915″ -I advise you look it up if you haven’t already). Recently I wrote an addendum to that poem. They are quite strange, and probably need a good deal more editing, but hopefully you”l like them as much as I do.

An added commentary: the word” petrichor” was not coined until the mid 60’s, so that part of my poem is  historically incorrect…


Notes on the depression, Part One

How about mother wears her coat

as it drapes around her head, and

you wonder why this rain

can’t stop falling through the cracks of the sidewalk

and can’t mother let the rain become

older than her wrinkles

that are as smooth

as cream

so it melts dead

like frosted snow in the winter before the rain starts

and you just learned that the

smell of rain is plants making

oil of petrichor-

yes you get a whiff of petrichor and know it’s going to rain

and you say that to your freind and she’s so impressed,

oh how EVER know that sal, how EVER did-

but mother with her wrinkles

she doesn’t know the word for the smell of rain

or she doesn’t have and umbrella,

or just a coat or a piece of newspaper?

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