April Showers Poem Novels & Stories

My mind was stuck in the stars of my imagination, which was blinking so fast, I tried to capture them but did not succeed which reflected me as I was welcoming my hell. The Weather turned so suddenly. Invisible messages in drops of water can't also let me change my decision. It's so sudden with such speed. Beauty with the beast was a perfect example as rain used to represent love but those drops hurt too much. We can protect ourselves but still it's an immense pleasure for mother earth. Outfit was very opposed to me, it's completely wetted. I tried to comfort myself; suddenly Jaiden resolved my discomfort with his Jacket. I never thought my finances would be loyal enough or if it was a showo

Sheridan stands beside him, her bare skin glowing in a fancy leather harness, swaying a little with excitement. Trey finishes and turns towards her. He snaps his fingers and she falls to her knees, gazing up at her mate. I don’t need to see her face to know that her eyes are shining. Trey’s face softens as he looks down at her. Another couple stealing a moment before they engage in the complicated mating dance of submission and dominance. I’ve seen it a million times before, but somehow it’s not as grotesque on shifters. That still doesn’t mean I get it. I climb the rest of the stairs and hit the door with my fist to escape.

April's POV I sobbed late into the night, my heart heavy with the accumulation of catastrophes that had followed me everywhere, beyond my control. The tears stung my eyes, and I couldn't hold them back. But as I cried, I began to hum a tune, and before I realized it, I was singing. It was a song I hadn't sung in a long time, one that told the story of a lost pup found by driads and wood nymphs in the mountains.

I press on, trying my best to follow her, to reach her before any harm comes her way. The guilt and fear swirling inside me are as turbulent as the weather itself. The storm outside mirrors the tempest within me. The realization that I'm the cause of such immense pain is unbearable. The raindrops seem to taunt me, falling like tears from the heavens as if the universe itself weeps for the sorrow I've inflicted.

The heavy droplets were pouring freely from the dark clouds, and small puddles were forming rapidly in the manicured gardens, plinking loudly as the rain became heavier. She giggled softly when her bright eyes landed on a baby bird shaking itself dry while sitting safely on a tree branch. She began to think about how incredibly free they were. How carefree did those birds look? How liberated was the falling rain? Was she liberated? Did she have the same freedom as those birds and those simple drops of rain? Her soft smile instantly dropped, and her heavy heart was quickly clouded by a sudden, suffocating gloominess. "What are you doing!"

‘How should I face all the cold and warm winds that paint my face with sadness? ‘How should I think of the past and the future that are all filled with pain? ‘From now on, my heart will never be clear again. ‘From now on, the mountains will never look green again. ‘I’m afraid to look at the fallen autumn flowers. ‘I’m afraid that the flowers in spring will look like tears.’ After Silvia read the poem word by word, she felt goosebumps all over her body again.

The man's eyes scanned the alley like a predator seeking its prey, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering streetlights. After what felt like an eternity, the man turned and walked away, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement. Sherry exhaled shakily, her hands trembling as she struggled to her feet. She knew she didn’t have enough time. The storm above finally broke, and rain poured from the sky, drenching her within seconds. The icy water pelted down, soaking her hair and clothes as she limped through the streets, using the rain to wash away the blood and grime.

Frustration and disappointment etched deep lines on my forehead as I gazed up at the darkening sky, ominous clouds gathering overhead. "It can't rain now," I muttered to myself, my voice filled with exasperation. "Not when I'm so close." The raindrops began to fall, softly at first, but steadily growing in intensity. Each droplet felt like a cruel reminder of the ticking clock, my opportunity slipping away with every passing second. I clenched my fists, feeling the dampness on my skin, and let out a sigh of defeat.

Starting with a few inadvertent spells in February during Boxonto Panchami, every year, rain gives life to a whole bunch of new love tales in the college campus, in the adjacent Nehru Park, in the busy streets and noisy restaurants around Panbozar and other places in the city, between coming-of-age men and women; then in mid-April, it clears the dust off the earth and revitalizes every bit of green the city is left with amid the rapidly growing concrete, with the rhythmic Bohagi beats of the Dhol, the soul stirring tunes of the flute, the alluring call of the Pepa, with the soothing lyrics of Bihu songs, while the new-born love-tales bloom like Kapou in every household garden; and finally in

I can feel moisture in the air itself, waiting, ready to obey. I extend my hand over the flowers, focusing on the pull inside me. A second passes, and then another, before the sky above responds. Rain falls, not in delicate drops, but in a sudden downpour, drenching the flowers and the ground beneath my feet. I watch in stunned silence as the rain cascades down, soaking everything in its path.