Listen to this poem using the player above.
Umbrella
I’m bringing my umbrella in case it rains
I’m writing this poem in case it doesn’t
Last night you were out when I called
You’re often out these days, somewhere
I’d never noticed how empty a room could sound
Never wondered where these pans go
Sometimes I stand in the kitchen waiting for your voice
To tell me what to do next, who to be
Then the phone rings, full of hope, but it’s a bill collector
Looking for me to pay what’s owed
Everyone is looking for their due
But my cupboards are bare, my reserves are empty
And most of the time it’s raining
And I’ve forgotten my umbrella
I really like this piece and listening to it. Did you read it tonight?
Thank you. And yes, I read it at Don’s open mic.
LOVE this poem. feels…dare i say…perfect poem?
You’ve said just enough to tell us everything.
Full of sadness, despair…also hope, nostalgia – and a carefully understated, but powerfully understood awareness of reality. All this with easily registered imagery and well-crafted verse. This is a great poem, …of this i am sure.
though tha poem may be “sad” – I am happy for you that tha right words found there way through tha mind’s troubling gauntlet…
Cheers! …and bravo!
mtp
Thanks, Mic. I was very happy with this one, too. It fell together in a few minutes. That’s often a good sign.