After Us

Rain is falling through the roof.
And all that prospered under the sun,
the books that opened in the morning
and closed at night, and all day
turned their pages to the light;

the sketches of boats and strong forearms
and clever faces, and of fields
and barns, and of a bowl of eggs,
and lying across the piano
the silver stick of a flute; everything

invented and imagined,
everything whispered and sung,
all silenced by cold rain.

The sky is the color of gravestones.
The rain tastes like salt, and rises
in the streets like a ruinous tide.
We spoke of millions, of billions of years.
We talked and talked.

Then a drop of rain fell
into the sound hole of the guitar, another
onto the unmade bed. And after us,
the rain will cease or it will go on falling,
even upon itself.

 

Reviews

[Reyes Mir]

Its A Nice Poem. Use Of Words is well done. But What confuses me is that the poem seems to be personal but there are some elements of social interest in it (in my opinion). Maybe its that way. Overall, Nice Poem by a nice person.

[Tawqeer Munshi]

Thanks sir. It really was constructive.

[AhEed AbRar]

It's just spectacular...............You have used the words intelligently......... BRAVO!! Keep it up

[Tawqeer Munshi]

Thanks Aheed!! :)

[SquinklaPsyOps]

Interesting dont know what poem is about.

[Tawqeer Munshi]

it's just my imagination...which I have described using words. :) and thanks for your review.