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Ian K Mar 10
The urge came.
Desire filled my breast
and before I knew it
I was flung from one corner to the next,
a branch iced over and shivering
as the tempest of want threatened
to shear me from my past,
to break me.

The urge left me
yearning to be carried away
to a place far removed
from these safe harbors;
over lands where I knew no names
and had no kin,
To a place unfamiliar,
but where the breath of God filled the air
and made sweet the prospect of new beginnings.
I AM A 
NATURAL DISASTER,
I will RIP THROUGH 
YOU like a 
HURRICANE,
I will DESTROY YOU like a 
TORNADO,
I WILL WIPE YOU OUT like a 
 TSUNAMI,
I will ERUPT STRONG like a
 VOLCANO,
I will SWIRL YOU like a 
CYCLONE,
I will DROWN YOU like the
DEEP SEAS!!,
BURN THROUGH YOU like 
FIRE,
VERY FAST and 
WITH EASE,
I AM A 
STRONG and POWERFUL 
 WIND,
Blowing down 
REALLY TALL TREES,
I AM A ROCK, and
I WILL CRUSH you,
SO, WATCH OUT 
IF YOU SO PLEASE!!!!!
I will 
FREEZE and
 FROSTBITE YOU,
With my 
FROSTY FREEZING COLD,
I will give 
you the 
GIFT OF SUNBURN,
My
 POWERFUL SUNRAYS
 are JUST SO BOLD,
I will
 SHOWER DOWN 
HEAVY RAINS,
from 
DARK GRAY CLOUDS 
FROM THE 
DARK AND GLOOMY SKIES,
I WILL EARTHQUAKE, 
RATTLE AND 
SHAKE YOU AS HARD AS I CAN,
A NATURAL DISASTER, 
IS WHO I AM!!!


B.R.
Date: 3/7/2025
Linden Lark Feb 28
To be loved by me  
is like being held underwater  
and expected to learn how to breathe.  

I don’t feel like I’m from here—  
from this planet.  
To love me is inhuman.  

I’m a creature of the night.  
Don’t get too close,  
or you might cause me a fright.  
But if you get just close enough,  
we can have conversations  
that last all night.  

To be loved by me  
is like being drowned…

You lose yourself in me.  
I lose myself in you.  
It’s not just a pattern—  
it’s painted in the stars above,  
the ground below.  
You know we’ve all seen this show.  

I either make landfall  
like a hurricane,  
or like the rain  
that was supposed to come today  
but never bothered to show its face.  

To be loved by me  
is like being drowned…

It’s not that I’m unlovable…  
It’s that I might be intoxicating.  
And you know how it goes  
with toxic things:  
you either can’t put them down,  
or you know better  
than to ever pick them up.  

To be loved by me  
is like being drowned…

But what if I’ve never been those extremes?  
What if that’s just how you’ve chosen to see me?  
What if loving me is not like drowning?  
What if I’ve just been watering your seeds?  
What if we look between the stars and the ground?  

To be loved by me
Is like being drowned?

Is there a different story to be found—  
waiting to be painted  
by someone who can see  
both the stars above  
and the roots beneath the tree?
This poem started as a statement—an absolute belief about how I love and am loved. But as I wrote, I found myself questioning: is love with me truly like drowning, or is it something else? Something deeper, something misunderstood? Maybe it depends on who’s looking. Maybe it depends on who’s willing to see the roots beneath the tree.
Anitha Panicker Oct 2024
Knocked down light poles,
Stuck-standing inside the road-crack
Busted pipes, roofless shelters, shapeless vehicles,
Dead air in every breath you take
Milton, Ian, Floyd, Kirk, Audrey, Bob
There’s a reason you are my exes!!
There once was a club swinging Swede
Determined to pillage and breed
But sweet miss O’conner
Defended her honor
Refusing to welcome his seed

There once was a red-bearded Viking
To the emerald land he went hiking
And trying to be wily
Snuck up Miss Reilly
But his salmon was not to her liking

There’s a viking name Erik the Erring
On a voyage he lost all his bearing
Instead of New York
He landed in Cork
And alone he became hard of herring
This month, 100% of proceeds from custom limericks will go directly to hurricane victims (personal friends of mine who are now homeless with their 1-year-old). These 3 were written for a strange and specific request: "Looking for a limerick about the early days of the Vikings when they invaded Ireland and their exploits. Funny if possible."
Jonathan Moya Sep 2024
I am married to this earth,
this field, this silence,
even as the ocean offers itself.

I walk  it with my dog on his leash
pulling restlessly ahead,
biting at the frenzy scent trail
he knows exists in the air.

The woods beyond are gray.
So is the sky.  

I hear— the echo of
a  trickling brook.  
My dog, inhales—
the last traces of  
dying greens, the odors
of tantalizing blues yielding
to the coming season.

The horizon reels away
until my eyes can no longer
take it in and the sky matches
the coming night—
contains itself in the field,
in every thing.  

Drops of rain splash
and  fall off my nose
onto my tongue.
The taste is bittersweet.
The scent, silences  
my dog’s barking
with the promise of petrichor.

The hidden brook silently turning
breathes in the renourishment—
the earth, the field,
praise the distant blessing
of a dying Hurricane Debby
bequeathing its last bits
for this life.

In my *******,
I feel the grace
of an unseen promise.
In the walk back home,
I am aware that each
foot thud is full of mud—
the marriage of ocean and land.
Kewayne Wadley Jul 2024
In a short whisper.
A shy hurricane drifts.
It swirls, rain cascading down.
It sees you, longing for your embrace.
Delicate.
A storm brews inside.
Looking for a way to get out.
Do you feel it.
The gust of its heart quickens,
tenfold.
Longing to dissipate and cover you
whole.
In a short whisper.
The skies darken.
Everything comes to a hush.
Its fears no longer wrapped tight.
A shy hurricane in search of love.
Knows nothing.
But to rage
Keara Marie Jun 2024
How is the weather inside of you?
Phia Sep 2023
The colors
dance in waves
across the darkening sky;
a beautiful calm before the storm.
The kind of calm
the world only experiences
in the early hours of the morning
when everyone is asleep
before the weight of everything
comes crashing down on it.
I wrote this last night. There was the most beautiful sunset. Today it is windy and rainy and gloomy outside.
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