Yes, it’s raining again

You’d hardly believe that there is any more water in the sky to fall on us, but there is… it’s raining again.

Oh well, here is a poem I found which is a little more romantic; I wish I had found it when I was teaching because there is so much I could have done with it and so much the students could have learned from it. It would have been a terrific stimulus for them. I was thrilled to find a video of Don reading the poem, wonderful, wonderful!

 
Rain
by Don Paterson

I love all films that start with rain:
rain, braiding a windowpane
or darkening a hung-out dress
or streaming down her upturned face;

one big thundering downpour
right through the empty script and score
before the act, before the blame, 
before the lens pulls through the frame

to where the woman sits alone
beside a silent telephone
or the dress lies ruined on the grass
or the girl walks off the overpass,

and all things flow out from that source
along their fatal watercourse.
However bad or overlong
such a film can do no wrong,

so when his native twang shows through
or when the boom dips into view
or when her speech starts to betray
its adaptation from the play, 

I think to when we opened cold
on a starlit gutter, running gold
with the neon drugstore sign
and I'd read into its blazing line: 

forget the ink, the milk, the blood—
all was washed clean with the flood
we rose up from the falling waters
the fallen rain's own sons and daughters

and none of this, none of this matters.

4 Comments

  1. sophos

    Snow in Berlin again too.

    I enjoyed the poem, such beautiful metaphores: “rain, braiding a windowpane” and “a starlit gutter, running gold”

    Funny how he can effortlessly gets away with writing about pop culture, bloopers and authenticity without the poem sounding flippant, but that’s the poignant power of rain I suppose.

    Like

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