picturing you in that blue blouse
true as summer’s noon (now gone grey green)
when life was still morning light
and you slept as beautifully deep
so moon gazed at itself (in you)
before the breaking news

it might have been wind that scooped the story
warning the birds to wing away
towing the last rays of sun behind them
or maybe it was that first soothesong rain
who foolish few becalmed to its notes
and raised hands to those drops eyes closed (and smiled)
whilst beneath your blues capped whites over grey
and their eyes opened to darkness
and it was too late to hide (from her)

She lasted more than a day (who’s to say)
her gales drowned out all knowing
and even the music (which came in sheets) became nothing
more spray in a shattering glass
tossed in a furious barrel of shards
A fiend in life and death
created for chaos’ sake
so cresting mountains could say they collapsed
and the darkest waters of your soul could rise once more
and spit at the sky

Now spilling on shores her name is but gone
only ripples of rumour of yesterthurs’ wrath
in your frothy headlines at headheight its sung
through hollow tubes curling, signaling the end
but hear her there (in the crash)

T.S. Goodrich
 


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06/03/2017 2:03am

This is one of the saddest poems I've read so far. It doesn't convey a sad message but I am just so sad how the story inside the poem went through. This is the trademark of the poet, T.S. Goodrich I guess, He has always the power to make us sentimental through his craft. The feeling this poem gave me is still in my heart and it's really hard to let go!

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