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Ayla melinda Souza

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Member Since: May, 2012

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Poem Toss
by Ayla melinda Souza

Sunday, May 20, 2012
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Ayla melinda Souza
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An Entry poem as part of an experiment for a game called "Poem Toss"

This game went like this:
• SUBJECT: Our living spaces
• Rule 1: No people (including self) in the poem.
• Rule 2: Five verse min.
• Time: 72 hours.
• Style: Any

  The large window,
The sky filled with stars,
The fresh smell of the wind,
The sound of the ocean roaring.

The echo of the rain drops,
The sound of dogs barking,
The floor made of rock,
My toes start tingling.

Thunder starts to roar,
Clouds start to form,
Rain starts to pour,
I can hear the storm.

The windows shake,
The old wooden door trembles,
Beer bottles break,
The Stereo plays the Beatles.

The vintage curtains sway,
The old lamp flickers,
The blood red walls get wet with rain,
The air becomes fresher.

The towels on the rack,
As they drench with rain,
The old cemented shack,
With its antique stain.

Navy blue bag on the wall,
Hanging by a hook,
Basket full of dolls,
Books on top of books.

Wall filled with drawings,
Art is everywhere,
Everywhere you look there’s a painting,
One’s you can’t help, but stare.

The pool in the back,
Starts to overflow,
The pavement full of cracks,
The spirits in the shadows.

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Reviewed by Ronald Hull 5/21/2012
There is more going on here than just a storm in the night. A very mysterious write.

Ron
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton 5/20/2012
Interesting concept. The thing is you used a person in this poem when you said . . .

My toes start tingling.

I can hear the storm.

Everywhere you look there’s a painting,
One’s you can’t help, but stare.



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