deepundergroundpoetry.com
cry down the rain
sleep must be something that’s
awarded only to the dead
you contemplate things like that
when it’s late & you’re alone again
on another endless night
staring out the window at the
sorrowful rain that makes it seem
like everything out there is crying
that’s when they get up & dance again
those memories buzzing in your head
like piano melodies haunting the cracked
leatherette stools of a long-lamented
boarded up roadhouse
heartbreak that’s gone mellow over
the solitary years but still lingers
these faded blues
so you gather up the dismal
pieces of your soul
that still remain
and you pray your silent prayers
to the broken hearted angels
that cry down the rain
Published 30th Aug 2014
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likes 27
reading list entries 8
comments 18
reads 1958
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The author encourages honest critique.
30th Aug 2014 5:32am
30th Aug 2014 6:05am
John, I wonder sometimes does anyone outside dup know how amazingly talented you are?
I adore your thoughts my friend...
Pen love John*
Jackie
I adore your thoughts my friend...
Pen love John*
Jackie
30th Aug 2014 6:58am
30th Aug 2014 8:16am
30th Aug 2014 8:54am
30th Aug 2014 12:40pm
JF...this is so beautiful...
I echo the words of Broom1692....does anyone outside DU know of your works....please say yes.... :)
I echo the words of Broom1692....does anyone outside DU know of your works....please say yes.... :)
30th Aug 2014 4:17pm
Sweet sorrow, your words are like fabric to the senses. I feel the worn leather, and relish the mournful rain. As always you climb hauntingly along the edges of my heart. This angel adores you!
30th Aug 2014 5:29pm
30th Aug 2014 6:31pm
Wonderfully Captured John!!!felt as if it was me sitting there nose pressed to the window pane/pain staring at the rain...Bravo Sir!!
30th Aug 2014 7:14pm
Isn't it so?
Beautiful Melancholy here John!!!
Always the sharp Pen found on Your pages!!!
Beautiful Melancholy here John!!!
Always the sharp Pen found on Your pages!!!
31st Aug 2014 9:21am
31st Aug 2014 5:51pm
You Sir, are always a joy to read no matter the subject you have chosen. From sinful lust to the faded blues... memories are like rain.
2nd Sep 2014 5:12am
This is simply a great poem. Great work man. I really like this.
"that’s when they get up & dance again
those memories buzzing in your head
like piano melodies haunting the cracked
leatherette stools of a long-lamented
boarded up roadhouse" I'm jealous of you for writing that.
"that’s when they get up & dance again
those memories buzzing in your head
like piano melodies haunting the cracked
leatherette stools of a long-lamented
boarded up roadhouse" I'm jealous of you for writing that.
3rd Sep 2014 12:23pm
10th Sep 2014 8:37pm
2nd Nov 2014 11:44pm
Great work man! Your poetry and the way you write reminds me of Frank Miller's Sin City, especially Marv's way of speaking. Very deep words, always painting a vivid and at times tragic picture.
16th Jul 2016 1:32am
This is a beautiful piece. I love it from start to finish. Even the title is captivating and made me wonder what this piece was going to be about. Thank you so much for sharing.
24th Jul 2016 8:14am
