Raindrops short poem

I sat by the window,

With a cup of tea warming my palms,

And watched the plummeting raindrops,

Gleefully break into a sprightly dance.

One by one the drops,

Glided down the window pane,

And with great rhythm and motion,

Splashed on the ground and rose again.

Soon enough I saw ,

A zillion billion drops perform,

One swayed aside in a reckless move,

And made some others loose their prop.

But this mayhem did not cease,

The moving drops in trance,

They danced in rhythmic motion,

To the beat of the roaring thunderstorm.

The beat soared high and reached its peak,

As few drops slipped and missed a beat,

And thus broke the trance and rhythmic motion,

Hey was it for real or my dreamy imagination!

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Disha Bafna

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A passionate interior and lifestyle product designer ,nurturing unconventional, ideas and projects, my tryst with writing began as a teenager and with every major chapter in life , my rendezvous with poetry got more profound. Poetry keeps me going , faith being the primary base of most of my poems. A person who strongly believes that every miracle realized and every moment well spent , makes life all the more alive. My poems are for those who want to just sit back and relish on the varied slices of life, one slice at a time... Love Disha
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When its raining outside and thoughts are filled to the brim inside, magic happens!
This poem could be sung to the tune of raindrops…
Reading it was like getting drenched in the first showers of monsoon.

stupendous man

I know some people who hate the rain or the very notion of getting wet! I would hope they would throw their umbrellas out after they have read this!

Geetha Paniker

The magic of rain.



Raindrops short poem

As I watch the raindrops pelting down my Window panes, my thoughts wander away, hover. I think of the unique creation weaved By God through His magical fingers that Wash my despondence, gloom, sappiness and Make my spirits soar high

Lively Raindrops

Lively Raindrops short poem

Rain holds life, In every little drop, Hanging on every leaf and flower, Reflecting without a mask. Each lone drop, Has a story to tell, Of a struggle to hang on, In its journey. Like a teardrop, It falls from