the splatter of a thousand raindrops
tiny explosions of liquid mortar shells
fall with a silence as numb as my heart
the twirl of your feet, the white of your dress,
the gash of your smile, the slow dribble
down windows shuttered against gray,
the violent gray of the canopied storm
and the haunting gray of a past
where the coldness of bullet-ridden hearts
beat like the silent drumming of rain
on sidewalks your feet will never walk again.
A door slams, guillotining laughter
the gauzy swish of ritualized fabric
gathered like fishing nets
piling in a barnacled stern
then small intervals of silence
between measured laughter reveal
the beating of your heart
as you are limousined
to where you already await
wondering
as the rice settles
in the slick crevices of grass
whether you can outrun
the chilling splatter of rain
or the darkness of memories
from which it falls.
Wow awesome wording here, and your phrasing is ESP creatively crafted! ! ! I ESP admire how u wrote, barnacled stern and limousined, . Sublime eloquence in mod style. Kudos. Nice to read from your pen again, do add your thoughts/comment on my newest poem too titled, mirage surprise
The interlocking of images is most riveting allied to an excellent rhythmic flow of the verse. A sad and powerful picture emerges.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hey, Neal! For me it took a second reading before I got a sense of the scene. As always, I appreciate your fresh wording. This poem leaves me curious about the story behind it. Hoping this finds you well, Glen