Rain
 

Held by her beauty, those who fail to be poets have no right of calling themselves a living being at all. Rhythm like beat of heart, her every drop brings up some deep mysterious feeling from the very soul. Listening to her sitting in a dark corner of some forgotten place, tells you what a love it is. Like song sung out of your very self it takes to you, and this song has note of life and joy, a note care and purity. Wide open she drenches
everyone and seeps into deepest crevices or memories. Harmony of soothness begins to play in her voice, more she got fierce. And then blowing winds and rustling leaves are just her slaves this glorious conductor. Not even the mighty sun stands before her stunning beauty. Small and large, many a creatures come out of their hidings to celebrate her coming, to have bestowing of her showers. What is life? Life is dancing with her without care of this world and, that dancing for love of dancing. Feeling of freedom and
wilderness she gives, and she gives the feeling of our origin, our originality. For once, her sight turns one to oneself and turns one to nothing else but her lover. Every tiny pearl of her is wanderer of happiness and openness. If ever desire to feel, desire to listen and desire to touch was completely fulfilled, it was with her. The ‘within’ that awakes with her presence, is beyond the any explanation, for it is unconquerable and invincible awaking. Above all the art, above all the music, above all the science, and beyond any
philosophy, she forms. There are other presences of nature which may be even beyond her but then they are beyond world. Fragrance of sweet smelling young flowers, smell of drenched earth, freshly washed trees and world, whistle together tunes which can’t be put into words. Birds quiver up their innocent faces huddled under newly washed feathers and ask for more. Her look is romance of angels and it is romance of world filled otherwise with so much hate and complications. Her creation must have been fulfilled with pleasure in creator’s heart and her existence must have been allowed to make us remember what the power of softness of tenderness means. From very far away in time she had lived and very far away into time she will live, doing same thing: sharing her soul, trying to make souls out of our soullessness. Let her for once have you, let for once allow her your soul, your heart and your every sense. Listen and feel to her tale of never
ending sweetness and coolness. Many things and forms a person attains during a life span but then some things keep standing where they are, once and always. And those things never hurt you when you fall back to them after there is no space in this big humanity for you. Those things love you same at anytime. Just know how to feel their love and just know how to feel their joy. That is life. Yes, life is rain.

Front page of what? Don't think it would make the New York Times. I didn't understand it, but that may just be my inability, and a personal distaste for that style of writing. Very poetic, though.

And if you're making the effort to type the b's and u's, why can't you make an effort to type the rest of the word? I'm really curious about this. I'm sure it's the big thing with kids these days, but do you know it makes you look stupid? And you misspelled rhythm.

If you are to examine beauty, it's better to choose a form that expresses it, unless you're an expert. Using a poetic metaphor and poetic wrinting, in a big blob of text, is like chainsaw sculpture - you're making a subtle metaphor with a hammer.

As for the front page - it's a bit long for a tagline.

so, what's your FIRST language?

I don't read shit this long. Bored by it. Make your point and MOVEON.ORG. Seriously, bit overwrought, dude/dudette. In/Out--that's the way to grab 'em unless you're Chaucer---and v. few of us are Chaucer.

Yeah but is that an effect of the text of the poster or the attention span of the reader? :D

Both. But mostly the text of the poster. tw has the same effect on me and I'm VOTING for KERRY for cryin' out loud.

Rain

The prairie beseeches the lightening.
The tall, dry grass waves at each passing cloud -
Come! Come!

Everyone pulls on shirts and coats
except you.
You strip off your clothing -
all but a pair of shorts.
Water hits your naked shoulders
and runs down your chest.
You stand bare faced
looking up,
accepting this gift of grace
for what it is
and nothing more.

The thunder passes on,
whispering back to us
from distant mesas and unseen cliffs.
You are the only one
with dry clothes to wear home.

You are the one I remember
when I see the tall grass bend
beneath the rain.

I still don't see that fitting in the tagline...

How about, "You're all wet!"? :D

Honestly, I didn't read it. I couldn't. I try to avoid reading anything from people who think that typing the "e" in the word "be" and the "yo" in the word "you" is too much effort. Nasty habit I picked up when I used to use AOL, but it effectively weeds out moronic posters. If you're going to use my language to try to communicate with me, I demand mastery, subtlety and care in its use. I can even stand to read people who do the whole "Thee Temple of Psychick Youth" thing, where they play around with spelling and phonetics. That is obviously a conscious process, similar to Cockney rhyming slang, and it's playing a game with the language. Subconsciously shortening everything to save effort, however, is not interesting at all.

Edit: Caught the last line, and I can never support any work that uses the phrase "Life is rain." My evaluation is stolen from SomethingAwful's "Your Band Sucks" series of articles:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
This is absolutely the worst shit I've ever seen
I'm leaving

THIS WORLDS A BIG POEM SCATTERED ALL ABOUT YOU AND THUS THERE IS NOT A SINGLE THING I CAN LET GO UNOBSERVED WITHOUT A BEAT OF RYTHM! :)

SOME PEOPLE JUST ARE IMPOTENT WHEN IT COMES TO CASE OF MAKING JUDGEMENTS. ALL THEY CAN THINK OF IS FINDING OUT MISTAKES. RIGHT? HUH? NOTHING ELSE U READ PROPERLY THEN JUST POINTING OUT SOME TYPING ERRORS!