Cné Jun 3

The smell of rain precedes the storm
that looms out in the west.
The sound of distant thunder
causes racing in my chest.

The temperature begins to drop
as I begin to flee
Seeking shelter from the storm
beneath a lonely tree.

I cower there, although I know
this haven's a mistake.
I know this is a lightning rod
but that's the chance I take.

The clouds, like battlements,
now, tower overhead
they fill my heart with dread.

Drops of rain begin to fall
and plop among the leaves
Followed my the icy hail
that toward my shelter weaves.

A branch has fallen near my crouch
and nearly I am crushed.
My choice to wait beneath the tree
now seems a little rushed.

I stumble out into the storm.  
The rain is driving hard.
Lightning strikes the tree I'd left.  
The trunk is black and charred.

How foolish was my little hike
in spite of warnings thus.
Stay at home when storms approach
or next time...take the bus

Really I was in my car in a terrible storm but it was very scary.
andromeda Oct 2016

the voice of the dim cathedral
haunts my bones
its slim fingers wrap around my neck
and through my skull
a voice from many
releases dawn on the backs of my eyelids
and sets fire to my ribs
a boy beckons us to hail true body
freeing me from earthly restraints

ave verum corpus : william byrd, ora
Lisbon Jul 2016

Let it be known throughout the land
From highest peak to wettest sand
With sharpened tongue and steady hand
The talking frog is in command

With belly white and skin of lime
A hero for the modern time
He uppered fun and lowered crime
His skillset includes pantomime

Of all the kings he is the best
A chiseled jaw and manly chest
We even put him on our crest
(He helped to found the turnip fest)

A friendly frog we all adore
With lots of fun and games in store
He'll make us smile, he has before
We thank you, frog, for this and more!

Sorry it's been so long since I uploaded anything! I haven't been feeling much poetic inspiration lately. Rest assured that more Fun Poems for Cool People™ will be coming soon!
Silence Screamz Feb 2016

I am secluded
by the steps of a brutal mind
Written in black and white
numerals on dirty chalkboards

Was I sleeping past my childhood lesson?

Please, wake my tired, bloodshot eyes !!
They are weary from
illuminated nightmares
and X rated dreams

The sting of the wooden rule of measure
punished my hands
The welted numbers tattooed
on my swollen palms

Ten Hail Marys are not enough to stop this atrocity

The towering stoic women,
dressed in black habits
I do not dare look away
but I did

Time was broken
when the rulers cracked the desk
Ear deafening sounds
with my frozen tears stuck in pause

I looked up to the heavens
to seek answers from my god
Not one whisper back,
I was screaming vulgarties in silence

Lowering my head to my desk,
I closed my eyes
and counted the numerals
on the dirty chalkboard

Dylan Whisman Jan 2016

If only my words could pierce and
descend opon the lovely ones,
the humans with caramel eyes
and voices that cradle the soul.
ones who can sail through the surging
ocean that is my mind.
ones that slaughter demons,
and waltz with angels.

Frozen  to the bone
A chill is running down my back
Wet and windy  
Dull day

MsAmendable Nov 2015

The bitter rain came flying
Dropping like icy marbles,
Freezing my bones, the wind
Stung my knuckles with lightning,
Shards of glass scraping past
my tender face, torn pink
Like blood mixed with snow
And ice, this bitter day

brandon nagley Oct 2015


Into twlight, Shadow's of monster's, men's piercing sight's
As they stareth at mine queen, dog's, hopeful dreamer's, dream's;
Tis, cometh to find out these verily aren't men, they were aloviti being's, their breath was poisonous as an asp, teeth as glass.


Tis these brute's couldst not be killed by arrow, nor gun's, unless silver and gold were used; They brought a thunderstorm and hail over me and mine beloved's head, they clinched their lip's, their nail's ripped through the roaring of the darkness around instead.


Mine Earl Jane Nagley held me closely, as tis these barbarian's were untamed and ghostly; I pulled out mine secret hidden choice, An Aesculapian snake to giveth a bang taste to these to these unholy ale's, I used that silver and gold to cut off their tail's.


Whilst the thunderstorm's and hail dissolved into thin air
Mine reyna and queen hugged me and screamed, cheerfully;
She saidst to me she loved me, tis now she was free, from pain and from anguish, I saved her again from the devil's advantage.

©Brandon Nagley
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( filipino rose)
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Just found this story on Google thought it would be interesting to write a story of ale in Serbian mythology is a demon that takes form into a man,,, the demon can breathe on a man and become him. The ale's or demons power is thunderstorms and hail which is said it doesn't effect a village directly but the villages surrounding where the storm is.. And if a ale breathes on you it can make your soul leave your body up to the clouds.... Also you can't kill these ale's by any ordinary weapon not arrow or gun ( unless) silver and gold is used with it.... It is said the main choice weapon is the Aesculapian snake which somehow its poison killed these ale (demons) this is in Serbian !mythology and a few other European places around Serbia.... Interesting.. I'm not Serbian at all just thought this is interesting... Enjoy (: oh and yes aloviti are names for man transforming into these demons...
Raiford Brown IV Aug 2015

Homes don't grow where I'm from
they only stand stagnant waiting for one to deconstruct a building process.
Limbs leave family trees way before fall happens. It's only a matter of time before one becomes familiar with "shit happens".
Indulged in decency far fetch becomes close Morals become like unread books.
Back-hand to reality some people get it.
Men will hit everything around, before hitting their target so a bulls eye is more like scolded ones golden tongues couldn't fix.
Pictures catch more than a moment
Pictures don't hang anymore the walls are gone. Houses look more like tornadoes  so prepare for hail. Aftermath can make a better beginning. Black looks darker in the light. In the dark your eyes will adjust so black is the new norm.
Accustomed to a fucked up custom where an abandoned home.
no painted walls, a brick mailbox, and a broken garage.

In only minutes, surging wind brought rain, then pounding hail into this verdant canyon. The mountain disappeared into the mist, and in its place the full arc of a brightening rainbow. Almost as quickly, the mountain's face reappeared, while more rain poured down, now through brilliant sunlight. The rainbow remains, plunging its feet into the very roots of the valley.

©Elisa Maria Argiro, July 17th, 2014
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