SMOKING IN THE RAIN
(Written while listening to Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 3 in D Major (No. 6 in D-flat Major, S. 244)
I am he,
who before was not,
a simple man that understands.
I am the quiet fool
that will take a stand
and fight the good fight
on every corner of every street…
I am the dancing soul
that moves to the beat
of bongos and tambourines,
of djembes and doumbeks
and of the clapping hands
that built my home.
I’ll now join those that raise their arms
in praise,
praise for peace and love
while smoking in the rain…
I was the rifleman in olive green,
that in foreign mountains
had grown and seen
the tears of sweat
and the sweat of tears
while no yet having too many years
of life experience in peace and love
without having
life experience…
I’m now determined.
I now will be
the one who seeks light from above.
I’ll comprehend
my brother’s love,
my brother’s pain,
and though we all might be
just quite insane,
we’ll all sit smoking in the rain…
C.2024, Francisco Bravo Cabrera – 24/04/2024/10/05/2025 – Valencia, Spain
CHEERS
JaZzArt en València 
Thank you, Francesco, for the meaningful poem, but it is indeed insane to smoke when we know it is the biggest killer in countries that are not in a war zone. Your poem reminds me of Oscar Wilde’s words: «We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.»
Joanna
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Wonderful words, those of Oscar Wilde, Joanna. Thank you. And you are right, smoking kills and I no longer smoke (for 20 years) and I do not advocate it. But I am glad you liked the poem. All the best.
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Thank you, Francesco, and I am so glad that you don’t smoke!
Joanna
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No. Left that bad habit 20 years ago!
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Brilliant, Francesco!
Joanna
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What beautiful sentiments, Francisco!
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Thank you Dawn!
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