Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
g  Feb 2017
thunderstorm.
g Feb 2017
you are a thunderstorm;
when anger crackles beneath
and your veins pop

you are a thunderstorm;
when laughter bubbles out
together with a cheshire-like grin

you are a thunderstorm;
when tears pour out
with choppy breathing

you are a thunderstorm;
when in his arms
and when not

you are a thunderstorm;
cold and electrifying,
but beautiful.
kgl Oct 2019
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and my rain pelts down harsher than the
words you spit
in violent vehemence
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and my lightening strikes brighter than the
empty promises you made
(brighter, but just as fleeting)
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and my rage is vast, immeasurable
filling oceans with its ferocity
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and this too will pass, leaving
chaos in its wake.
To the thunderstorm I used to love,

you pounded me, beat the windows with your fists,
brought the rain down with your thunderous roar.
rarely, it would hail, and the melting ice would
gleam down the streets, still soiled from the
summer day before you came and took over all daylight.

A severe thunderstorm warning went into effect around
2 a.m. - estimating to begin at 4 and
end at 9.

You came at 5, and it never ended.

While the rain once glistened, it now stings my skin,
crushes my thighs, squeezes my hip, compressing
pressing presser tightening twisting the calf, stabbing
the spine.

I am not in control.

The purple crush of your swirling eyes is
a rush of wind - a cold front in the summer
mist - the shattering of a two-hundred-year-old tree.

I saved butterflies from you only for them to suffocate in their cages. The rags indoors, the frames, they never stopped you - only the rain
prevented your fire.

You are right when you are gone.

The road is a blurry mirror, aging eyesight in the wet darkness.
Watch a reading on my YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nR4jcdzhas
Jo King Dec 2017
When he left my mother told me something.
She said it's okay and this will pass
He's nothing compared to you
But as I laid there
On my bedroom floor
In the room where he claimed me
Where little girl dreams were shattered
I didn't believe her
Instead I screamed about how I hated life
How he left me like dust on my fingertips
Like the ash of my burned down home

Two weeks later and I'm a shell
Of who I was
Of who I am
Of who I'll ever be
My ribs poked out like piano keys
Just waiting to be played
And my collar bones
Oh they were waiting like glasses
Glasses expecting hard liquor
That I of course drowned myself in

The day her name left his lips
I was done for
I wanted to become nothing but earth and essence.
But my best friend cradled me
She promised I would find love again
That this hurt, no matter how bad it is,
Will only be temporary
I didn't believe her
So I rebelled against them all
It was only me

4 months later and I'm sitting in the car
My best friend sits beside me
I'm genuinely laughing
And she looks proud
Then she tells me how he's talking about me.
From my ******* boots
My infatuation with peaches
To how I harbor guitar pics on every inch of my body.
I relapse into him immediately
I wanted him so bad

6 and a half months later and he tells my best friend
That he hates me
My name swims out of his mouth on a raft of profanities.
But it didn't hurt as much as I thought
I think I grew
Little by little I became the new girl
The one that writes again and breathes the air a little deeper than the others.

6 and half months plus 3 days
I caress my fingers over my body
The shower beats down on me
"I want to be your friend" I whisper to myself.
He was nothing but a thunderstorm
But I am more than he
I am the sun
The moon
The stars
I am the heavens
I am the thing everyone revels in
And I made it through hell and back
And now I can finally say goodbye
Javaria Waseem Nov 2014
The back seat of the old Chevy
and that familiar smell of cigar mixed with your scent
Stealing little moments in
the darkness of the night
as the sky lit up and danced
The faint taste of liquor
never felt so good before as it did
from your lips.
Short breaths,
sweaty hands,
whispers echoing.
It all took me to a place better than
the stars
where we collided
feeling mightier than the sky
that roared outside.
The beads of sweat rolling down your back
felt warmer than the
rain drops
that left a trail behind
on the steamy window.

The world outside seemed peaceful
for the thunderstorm
was felt inside.
Gail Hannon May 2018
There was a thunderstorm last night.
Today it smells like sweet petrichor,
Coating my nose and holding everything
Very Still.
But last night.
There was a thunderstorm.
Thunder rolling like waves crashing and breaking on the shore.
Lightning cutting jagged lines in the air.
And so much rain that the puddles look like oceans.
And the world is sweet petrichor.
And through the thunderstorm,
I thought of you.
Your hand in mine.
Your warm, sweet hugs.
The soft kisses that part of me will always pretend never happened.
And part of me aches for again.

Through the thunderstorm,
My thought was of sharing the time with you.

There was a thunderstorm last night.
One that almost shook the ground I stood on.
And I was not afraid.
But my fingers felt quite lonely.
And my thoughts resided elsewhere.
And now the morning's breaking,
And the whole thing is kind of hazy.
And the world's made of sweet petrichor.
And my thoughts still lie on you.
AB  Jul 2014
Thunderstorm
AB Jul 2014
On this night
The king-god Zeus does battle
With the titans of old.
The sky is livened
By his hurled bolts of lightening.
Their targets simply
Unseen to the mortal eye.

The calm is shattered
By the clash of thunderbolt
On stone and molten rock.
Our protector, he remains.
Though many have forgotten him
To myth, legend, and lore
We have forgotten the safety
That his lightning strikes provide.

On sunny days
Cloudless nights
We are allowed to forget his ways.
But on this night
In these dark and stormy hours,
The true believers remember.
That Zeus has watched over us
For millennia. Battling an unseen
War, waged in the tales of old
But carried out before our eyes.

We must recall that he,
The one King-God, Zeus, has
Watched over us dutifully since time
Before time before memory.
He has kept us safe
From the titans of old.
And the lightening strikes
Remind us of stories untold
Most find the crash to be a nuisance
Not me.
I find an unusual serenity in the calamity.
An undeniable calm in the chaos.

As for the flash
Well it adds a little mystery
To the life I live full of misery.

Rain runs down windows
Replicating the tears down my face.
Reminding me I'm not alone
In this desolate place.

Thunderstorms are therapy
Designed to drown out our thoughts
And provide inspiration
For artistic creations
Marian Jan 2014
Right before the thunderstorm
Clouds of grey line the sky
The breezes stir even a little
And rustle through the tall, tall pines
Leaves are scattered on the ground
The scent of rain fills the air
The stifling hot summer day
All of a sudden cools off
The wind picks up
And the sky is black with rage
Green leaves and twigs and small branches
Are flying through the air
Lightening flashes vibrantly
And thunder follows right behind with a crash
That ear splitting "boom" makes me jump and cringe
Rain suddenly pours from the heavens
And it roars upon the roof
Raindrops wash the porch
Of any dust or summer dirt
The ground tries its best to drink the rain
Yet still leaves puddles all around
The sun shines and then fades again
And the sky turns blackish-bluer still
Until that familiar sound of thunder
Startles me and makes me frightened
Thunderstorms are dark, yet lovely
And scary, yet beautiful
I guess I like thunderstorms
But just am afraid of them

*~Marian~
A poem I wrote a few days ago and found again last night in my notebook!!! (:
I thought and hoped you might enjoy it!! (: ~~~~<3
June Montag May 2014
tiny arrows Rain down as
     the heavens Scream their wrath
     and
     the cameras Flash incessantly to
     Capture abject misery.

the screams they slowly Die
     down Into the low moans
     and  
     the tears are Falling faster as
     fists Hit their mark.

red streaks
     across the sky.
just another mythological theory for the thunderstorm.
Zane Stotts May 2015
Feel
the raindrops roll down your face,
wrapping you in their liquid embrace.
See
the blinding lightning
the dark clouds, brightening.
Taste
the crisp water pouring from the sky
the rain, leaving nothing dry.
Hear
the roaring thunder,
filling you with wonder.
Know
that after this,
the thirsty earth will return to bliss.
Feel. See. Taste. Hear. Know.
Charles Bukowski  Jan 2010
rain
a symphony orchestra.
there is a thunderstorm,
they are playing a Wagner overture
and the people leave their seats under the trees
and run inside to the pavilion
the women giggling, the men pretending calm,
wet cigarettes being thrown away,
Wagner plays on, and then they are all under the
pavilion. the birds even come in from the trees
and enter the pavilion and then it is the Hungarian
Rhapsody #2 by Lizst, and it still rains, but look,
one man sits alone in the rain
listening. the audience notices him. they turn
and look. the orchestra goes about its
business. the man sits in the night in the rain,
listening. there is something wrong with him,
isn't there?
he came to hear the
music.

— The End —