COLD RAIN

life
serious
sad
poem
#1

COLD%20RAIN
A cold deserted alleyway,

dark as a desolate grave.

Away off in the distance,

dogs howling their dismay.
.

A winter wind is gathering,

blowing tattered old papers away.

With tired forgotten faces

and the news of yesterday.
.

Discarded cans and bottles

clatter on down silent streets.

The chill night air is biting

as he pulls in frozen feet.
.

So many dull and dreary nights

spent seeking private reproof.

The familiar pitter-patter sounds

upon his cardboard roof.
.

His heart is filled with shame,

there’s a cold, deep hollow pain…

…and here comes the rain.
.
.

In and out of a fitful sleep

his dreams are demon-filled.

Taunting him and teasing him,

destroying the last of his will.
.

He hears an awful scratching

and he’s searching all about.

The sight of rats around his feet,

he screams and then kicks out.
.

Scuttling away in the darkness,

squeaking out with their complaint.

Off to find some other poor soul

to torment and to taint.
.

Another wretched creature,

living life down in the drain…

…and here comes the rain.
.
.

Traffic swishing here and there

on dampened tarmac lanes.

Home to feel such loving arms,

a fire of flickering flames.
.

Safe within their warm embrace,

they watch the hot flames dance.

No need for words between them

as they drift into a trance.
.

Silently they kiss and cuddle

and gaze into each others eyes.

Warm, dry and safe inside

the others contented sighs.
.

His long distant memories

are all that remain…

…in the cold and pouring rain.
.
.

His body starts to tremble

with a deep and longing need.

The painful image beckons him,

then just as slowly recedes.
.

A sob escapes the wilful wall

he’d built to hold it in.

It turns into a mournful moan,

that’s lost amidst the din.
.

His body is wracked with baleful cries

for a life that he once enjoyed.

So fragile, as he soon discovered,

he’d watched it all destroyed.
.

And all he now has to show

for all those precious years,

is a glimpse of sunlight memory,

between clouds of doubt and fear.
.

A bitter, painful afterimage;

an un-relenting stain…

…in the cold and pouring rain.
.
.

And as the slow dawn breaks,

he lies motionless and quiet.

Whilst out there on the busy street ,

people talk about their diets.
.

Oblivious to the lifeless victim,

enshrined in a cardboard tomb.

A helpless soul in a world of indifference,

he lost his fight too soon.
.

The report will say, “ Hypothermia”,

they’ll tie a tag on his toe.

But the real tragedy in his tale,

is that nobody will ever know.
.

That a once proud and happy man

could no longer take the strain.
.

He died of a torn and broken heart,

in the cold…

and the dark…

and the rain.

.
*

Written by Darren Scanlon, 16th September 2014

Revised by Darren Scanlon, 16th September 2016.

©2016 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.

#amwriting #poetry #writingcommunity

6 Likes
#2

Wow. :revolving_hearts::ok_hand:

1 Like
#3

Loved it!:heart:

1 Like
#4

Fabulous

1 Like
#5

Mindblowing​:heart_eyes::heart_eyes::heart_eyes::heart:

2 Likes