Published March 7, 2005
I bit into my chocolate heart and it
tasted like peppermint,
looked like sugary emeralds inside.
I ran my tongue along the calender
and it tasted like raspberry,
looked like sticky liquorice on the top.
I wanted to hear the plastic rain
like crackling cellophane on the rooves
and the roads and the umbrellas,
but lime sunlight glimmered.
I could imagine headlights smashing through
painfully hard rain under Paris' Autumn sky.
And me standing in the middle of it all,
letting the crashing rain steal my anguish.
Blue rain looks like hair streaming down
and lapping at the ground
and dancing across the grass.
I'm as cold as it tonight.
The salt in the wind tears my skin
and leaves the room looking whitely desolate.
I can feel the rain from my eyes evaporating
and your beautiful storm soaking me to the bone.
The hours ache with thirst,
the days an endless desert
until the cyclonic rain and hail comes to
quench the parched calender.
With the dark grey sky stretching over the
old afternoon, I spit out the pink rain
that you crammed like candy into my mouth.
So it's no surprise the huge pain relieved.
written: (finished) Tuesday 24th August 2004, 10:12pm.
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141,410 Literary Works • 674,390 Reviews
Too many images hide the meaning.
: Scracthes head : Yeah, probably a little too abstract. But I can't complain, because I don't know how to write anything but literal stuff...which is sad, but true.
This is way too abstract. Like I've said before, you could be a great poet if you would stop combining words and forming images, like "plastic rain" or "I spit out the pink rain," both of which made no sense. You need more concrete details, not just references to candy in your mouth.
I liked this. You used sight and sound and taste and all of those things in here. I didn't quite understand it though, but I love the rain and I loved this poem too.