Dead Rain Poem by Bill Cantrell
Dead Rain
Dead rain falls upon my page,
From melancholy springs
Black rain drips from tired eyes,
As life goes down the drain
Drops of pain fall silent,
Unperceived by sheltered hearts
The last rain, let it give relief,
That peace may breach this dark
Staring at reflections,
In a pond of forgotten sins
Melancholy splashes violently,
Revealing déjà vu again
Cleansing waters from your throne,
Has helped me many times before
Let it wash away the gloom,
And lift me up once more
A fabulous poem! I sincerely appreciate the beauty of expression of this sweet little piece of work!
Dear Bill, We all go there, more than once. But just think how lucky we are not to be part of that heart-breaking caravan or the rotten countries they come from. and to still live free. I have known tyranny and great fear. And I bless this country. Don't be depressed, we all have to work together to keep minds free, the greatest liberty, And here, we all love you, Bill, my friend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 4:43:08 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Liked this very much Bill. Well penned.