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May 2014<\/strong><\/p>\n If you were rain you’d drop round every day If you were the sun you’d come less often I understand how Pagans must have sighed Be rain! Shower me tonight and often.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Originally from North Wales, Roddy Williams<\/strong> lives and works in London. His poetry has recently appeared in ‘Popshot;, ‘The North’, ‘Magma’, ‘The Frogmore Papers’, ‘Obsessed With Pipework’ and other magazines. He is a keen surrealist photographer and painter.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" May 2014 If you were rain you’d drop round every day tapping at my window like a stalker. Moon blocked with that shrouding puffa jacket. On nights like this when my drained thoughts, too dry to even steam, patter to your corner of the brain, rumba to summer thunder. I am under […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9940","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9940","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9940"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9940\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9942,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9940\/revisions\/9942"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9940"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9940"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9940"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\ntapping at my window like a stalker.
\nMoon blocked with that shrouding puffa jacket.
\nOn nights like this when my drained thoughts, too dry
\nto even steam, patter to your corner
\nof the brain, rumba to summer thunder.
\nI am under a cloud, waiting for you.<\/p>\n
\nsurprising me with wonder blue mornings,
\nlong passionate afternoons.
\nThere’s hours like this I’d die of warmed up greed.<\/p>\n
\nas your visits grew shorter, your light dulled.<\/p>\n