Dreary Sunday Morn

Written for:  Sunday Muse - Word Garden Word List #19
(posted by Fireblossom)

Church breakfast is dreary,
shivering in icy basement,
forcing down congealed
eggs on a gray, rainy day.
Our humming host moonlights
for AA meetings held here
in evening.  Joe has
a vacant look, like
someone pulled a shade
down over his eyes.  Haven't
seen his wife in a while.  
Dusty rings of shredding
holiday garland sits
forlornly in an open
box.  As soon as it is
late enough, I make my
escape.  Rain pummels
the roof, unusual in
this month of May.  As
I fetch my car, I hazard
a glance at the small
graveyard.  The residents
are silent.  Only sound
is the cascading rain
bending the moaning


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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14 Responses to Dreary Sunday Morn

  1. Shawna says:

    “Only sound
    is the cascading rain
    bending the moaning



  2. fireblossom32 says:

    Wow, very different for you! Such a bleak scene, and so well depicted.


  3. The chill gloominess is all-pervading – wonderfully conveyed.


  4. qbit says:

    Dang! That’s depressing, LOL!


  5. Carrie V. H. says:

    The mood you have painted here is down, but you have done it beautifully Sara!


  6. Helen says:

    Sara, this is such a fine piece of writing … shivering as I sit here reading it … again.


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