Poetry Porch: Poetry


By George Kalogeris

It was pain, midnight pain, nothing but the wild pain
He heard as if his prayer could channel the rain

Falling to tell him that someone was dying alone
Lying out there with others drenched to the bone

Helpless as broken reeds in the cold, cold water
Answer me if you can: does the rain have a father

Said the Whirlwind to Job as he lay in the terminal ward
Or out in the trenches — itís what the poet heard

Lashing the roof of his hut as the sound of sheer
Dissolution kept his body awake to the pure

Isolation of all those in pain, midnight pain,
And nothing but wild flawless lines to the wild falling rain

That calls itself catharsis — O tender Edward Thomas

Copyright © 2020 by George Kalogeris.