The Advent Of A New Day

Had the imagery stuck in my head for a while now, figured I'd get it out there.

The grey skies showed signs of light through the clouds

            And it had stopped raining for the first time in days,

                        Or what felt like forever.

 

It always smelled pleasant outside after a storm,

            Like the aroma of relief, or freshly cut grass

                        Mixed with the mud it came from.

                       

Grabbing the newspaper and my coffee,

            I stepped out onto my front porch,

                        And the kids next door had come out to jump in the puddles

                                    Eventually making their way to the park across the street.

 

They laughed, they smiled, and they played,

            While Mrs. Helen kept yelling at them to look both ways

                        Before crossing the street

                                    Into that childhood wonderland.

 

It was a beautiful park, with neatly cut grass packed into its form,

            The old, rusty swing set that was always creaking in the wind,

                        And the giant cement angel that stood guard

                                    Ever since I moved here years ago.

                                   

It was the centerpiece of the park,

            With an old wooden bench in front of it,

                        And what everyone assumes to be a plaque

                                    Screwed into the base of the cement pillar.

 

The words were washed off years ago…

            I wish I knew what they had to say,

                        But nobody does anymore,

                                    And I always wondered if there was anyone here before us

                                                Who had any idea.

 

I had always admired that stained seraphim,

            With cupped hands, holding the leftovers of that nightmarish storm,

                        Until the wind and sun took it away on their own time.           

                                    

It always stood, stoically-fashioned on its pedestal,

            Bravely facing every day,

                        Patient, and with a stony smile

                                    Like it knew something we didn’t

 

I guess it did.

 

 

Reviews

[Lorraine]

Great imagery. Your descriptions are vivid and lively. Also I like the way you described the park as something that children find fascination in but still contains some kind of mysterious secrets that time has concealed.

Keep Writing. ^___^

[Daniel Gardner]

This is a different aproach to poem writing and i like it. I like the way you are telling a bit of a story through it. Great job

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

This has a very interesting format. I like it ..the poem reminds me of days gone by , childhood days and the angel and plaque with no words leaves just enough mystery...I enjoyed this!

[Dutch Jr.]

This is great work. I love how you describe the atmosphere after a rain storm, "like the aroma of relief, or freshly cut grass." I think all of us can relate to that sweet smell of the air after the rain, but you effectively put it into words. I love the picture you paint of the park, the kids playing in the puddles, and, most of all, the statue. Great work.

"The words were washed of years ago…" I think you missed an "f" in the word "of."