awoke me from my slumber, the pattering of rain on my window panes
as i subdued yet another day to my widowed pain
the branches of sorrow growing thick into my brain
as it grew fruitful, nourished by the very same rain.
as the drops of crystal hit the soil
reminiscence emerges and my blood starts to boil
every attempt at saving has done nothing but foil
i can’t accept the truth, ahead lies my life of toil
the sweet sound of his phantom tenor
as i try to distinguish between love and sober
my nostrils pick up the scent of petrichor
even if the room reeks of liquor
my mind calms at the absence of thunder
the world will never be kind, whether prey or hunter
i watch the rain trickle into the ground before i go back to my slumber
as it seeps to my husband, where he lies six feet under.
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Author:
iyan (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 23rd, 2021 10:21
- Comment from author about the poem: i wrote this poem as it was raining outside and got reminded of a past repressed memory of my childhood, it made me realize that so many things around us acts as gateways to past memories whether we want to remember it or not. this poem is from the pov of a widow whose memories of her deceased husband are connected to the smell and sound of rain. my usual writing style is rather free form without rhyming much but i wanted to try something different, a textbook style english poem if you will.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 38
Offline)
Comments1
beautiful poem, and i am so sorry for your loss.
thank you so much! btw i don't have a husband ahaha im only 17, i wrote this from the pov of a widow
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