deepundergroundpoetry.com
secrets of the rain
the after-midnight rain beats down on the old shingle roof;
the staccato of a rapid-fire pistol massacres my reverie.
thunder bellows like the great voice of an opera centurion,
as lightning strobes the veil of a slumbering nocturne. the
music is classical: turbulent trumpets & silk-tongued,
lamenting violins.
illuminated at my window, the stark, accusing faces of
long ago lovers, painted in the make-up of a beautiful
sorrow. pensive blondes & dolorous dark haired maidens;
eyes the colors of paraiba tourmaline or peridot, pristine
as a virgin pool or sinfully smoky.
they chant a similar mournful melody: ‘where did you go,
lover? have you forgotten me?’ & thus arises visions from
fragrant ash, such amorous interludes as a man can never
forget. kisses wetter than the sultry night, & ‘hold me close,
closer’ sighs.
passion that steals away from a betrayer’s mundane allegory,
& hastens to catch a train pulling away regretfully from a Paris
fog; passion that yields to the light of a star-crossed virgin on a
Verona balcony.
these spectral mistresses come with the rain, the rain that falls
like sweet & bitter tears, just beyond the mourning glass. they
fade as I watch, carried to a mystical garden that will blossom
for them, because I am not there.
there is a better place for you, & it’s far away from here.
far away from me…
Published 19th Sep 2015
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likes 19
reading list entries 5
comments 12
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I imagine these spectral loves from the past miss you, a man who knows how to live dangerously. I really enjoyed this moody and eloquent write.
19th Sep 2015 2:13am
19th Sep 2015 3:25am
John love the images you brought to mind..
an intoxicating man you are addictive in nature..
though you are not to be held by one woman..
masterful ink..
with love Crim
an intoxicating man you are addictive in nature..
though you are not to be held by one woman..
masterful ink..
with love Crim
Anonymous
19th Sep 2015 5:53am
I can see the memories playing itself out like a movie screen against the rain. I love the imagery and the words you so wonderfully apply like wet paint on a canvas
Anonymous
- Edited 25th Sep 2020 3:45am
19th Sep 2015 7:21am
<< post removed >>
19th Sep 2015 9:21am
"thunder bellows like the great voice of an opera centurion,
as lightning strobes the veil of a slumbering nocturne."
~sets deep image and?!.. you used bellows!! we must keep those olde words alive. fine job SirJ!
Your "illuminated at my window" stanza is beautiful image of lovely ones paletted in pining reflections..
Entirety is perfection.. still remembered in glass pain/pane. touching verse beneath the starkness.
"passion that yields to the light of a star-crossed virgin on a Verona balcony."
~serious slick poetry ;)
very delicate remembrances. your pen, amazing,
curtsies & good morn,
~d
as lightning strobes the veil of a slumbering nocturne."
~sets deep image and?!.. you used bellows!! we must keep those olde words alive. fine job SirJ!
Your "illuminated at my window" stanza is beautiful image of lovely ones paletted in pining reflections..
Entirety is perfection.. still remembered in glass pain/pane. touching verse beneath the starkness.
"passion that yields to the light of a star-crossed virgin on a Verona balcony."
~serious slick poetry ;)
very delicate remembrances. your pen, amazing,
curtsies & good morn,
~d
19th Sep 2015 11:19pm
Hi John: Very creative and loving, actually to see the faces of ex lovers in raindrops...haunting you with their pain...immersed in your mind forever, perhaps you think of them more than they think of you... john, the first verse is amazing and a most delightfully poetic introduction a poem within a poem...love *spectral mistresses*...hmmm
21st Sep 2015 2:38am
Immaculate beauty. The garden's reflective rain tastes like nectar from the poetry gods. Just loved this! Tried to book it, but my list is full, sigh's even closer. - blue angel
23rd Sep 2015 6:22am
Feddler Dear.. ..
You haunt me something terrible,
do you hear? So, so many lovers..
what will you do with?
So, so
many ghosts en'cirling thee
Mmh.. I'm a devout extremist when
it comes to musique of such eras.
Those thunderous cellos blending
streaking violins.. . then the pianist
strikes his finger against black &
keys..
Spines must convulse in the
spot they desire to reste.. .
You haunt me something terrible,
do you hear? So, so many lovers..
what will you do with?
So, so
many ghosts en'cirling thee
Mmh.. I'm a devout extremist when
it comes to musique of such eras.
Those thunderous cellos blending
streaking violins.. . then the pianist
strikes his finger against black &
keys..
Spines must convulse in the
spot they desire to reste.. .
23rd Sep 2015 10:04pm
For a moment, the first few lines had me thinking you must live in my neighborhood...because just a few nights ago, I heard gunshot ring out in the rainy night.
Lovely piece, as always.
Lovely piece, as always.
27th Sep 2015 11:50pm
I absolutely love this poem. The atmosphere and mood you've created is nearly intoxicating. I love that it so gracefully consumes you and pulls you in, only to let you off with a hazy mind and a desire to read on. Fantastic work.
10th Oct 2015 5:15am
This is beautiful like a watercolor or mural done by a renaissance artist. I love the honesty and truth that flows out of this.
