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Strangely Silent

The sound of the rain on
the metal roof became
musical to me as

thunder and lightning
was accompanied by a
dull darkness that

sopped up all the air, all
the light and space until
a little before sunset.

It must have been the
smell of the end cut
pork chops browning in

an iron skillet and garlic,
onion, with beef smoked
sausage sautéing in a

sauce pan waiting for
creole cream style pinto
beans or our love that

broke the storm. When
I fluffed the rice we saw
the sun shine and our

street for the first time
today and the roof grew
strangely silent.

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:


Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)

I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)

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