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Slow Rain


Larsen M. Callirhoe
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Larsen M. Callirhoe

Slow Rain

 

 

I thought the sun came out the day you entered into my life.

You see the warm rain ceased and the flowers began to grow.

We had an affair turning my self-pity to joy and the sorrow

you shared with me disappeared overnight in our wedding party.

 

You see you stopped the slow rain baby, then one day out of the blue

like the ocean shore luminosity, like a light bulb that burned out -

your light that you shined on me and our marriage went out mysteriously.

 

Is it the soft words you whisper in my ears causing you anxietry?

Is it everyday when you speak to me in the morning causing me fear?

Is it everyday in my dreams you started turning against my reality?

Is it when we fight and than made up afterwards?

 

Sometimes, I just don't know what you really need?

You did strum my emotions like the harp that the

God(dess) angels are singing and playing for (us) now.

 

I wish I had all the answers you were searching for or all

the questions I haven't yet found answers for answered.

 

The slow rain is falling hard, the clouds are turning grey outside,

and it is strumming my heart to another sad story of love lost.

You see the sunlight in our relationship is fading fast.

When you left me forever it was the day I cried hardest.

 

You played me like a violin

and when you were done

I slipped on the bananna peel

you happily left by the front door.

I didn't need your remorse at all.

 

I gave you my world and filled your heart with glee.

Then you left me for another man after you crushed my spirits.

I have been playing these same sad tunes eversince.

I guess I was good at singing the blues for here I am again

drowning my sorrows with a liguor bottle holding another empty glass

of fading dreams here in the dark all alone to the same old song.

 

You see the slow rain is falling again after the sun went down.

But, this time it is pitter-pattering against my heart,

You see the lightning is blazing and the thunder is roaring.

Larsen M. Callirhoe

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"I guess I was good at singing the blues for here I am again

drowning my sorrows with a liguor bottle holding another empty glass

of fading dreams here in the dark all alone to the same old song."

 

True image that many who have lived long enough know all too well. Well-written metaphors.

Franklin

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  • 2 weeks later...

It has it all, from joyful triumph to tragic despair. Overall, the poem's sense is "not with a bang but a whimper." Very well expressed, Victor.

 

Tony

 

 

PS -- I love the title, too.

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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