Poet On a Motorbike...

Welcome to a world of pleasure and relaxation... a literary art gallery which aims to engage ones spirit....

Wednesday, 30 October 2013

The Rain Man

The rain man, they call me

Along crowded havens I tread
No place to rest, or to humble,
To nothing I've felt, belonged
Always longing to be forgone

And when it rains, I venture,
Amidst the chaste and impaired,
Their mourning and pain
Under their dark faces, they hide

They look at me and they say,
Hail him, the rain man,
“That person who can read our sorrows and pain,
When lighting strikes in the dark, “

I smile and I say,
“I’m only here, to drown my tears in the rain”


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