Poetry and personal blog – Spilling my guts to strangers

Camden Street

“The devil
is beating his wife,”
my grandmother used to say
if the rain fell
while the sun was shining.
It was always a humid day
when the burdened sky
could not wait for cloud cover,
and the hurried downpour
never lasted
for more than a minute,
the faint sound of thunder
soon forgotten,
as if a dream.
Always there was a hush
on my grandmother’s face
as she stood ironing bed sheets
while the devil,
confused by what seemed
a reasonless trick of the weather,
took it out on her who
forever had been the same.

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2013

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Comments on: "Camden Street" (22)

  1. Great poem, Adriene! I love the images I see when I read this.

  2. Wow! The imagery! Just beautiful, Adrene . . .

  3. My grandmother used to say the same. Thanks for bringing back such good memories…

  4. the ever changing weather and the never changing, stalwart grandmother…what a great juxtaposition Adriene!

  5. Adriene, love this one! I could see every scene with your masterful use of imagery! :)

  6. awesome poem Adriene. I love the imagery. my Nana had this saying too (& it found its way into one of my poems as well)

  7. susanpjames said:

    Love this poem. Brings back childhood memories.

  8. You made me think of my grandma, Adriene. Lovely poem and imagery as always :-)

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