Bryden 3d

You hear about me,
you wait for me,
you prepare for me below,
while I sit silently and brew in the heavens above.
Innocently I start as scattered clouds smudged across the sky,
as I calmly exhale over the land.
But with each breath I fill up with frustration.
Frustration turns to anger,
anger becomes rage,
and before you know it a tantrum is born.
I batter,
I consume,
I cough out my rage.
I strip your trees bare and scream at your cat,
howling with laughter at the mess I have made.
I charge through the streets
stealing life to strengthen my own.
Tears are washed away with salted rain
you think your pain
will make me stop?
Bodies of trees lie across the roads,
hollow shells of used-to-be homes
poke their heads from the water,
scared to see the damage I have caused.
Exhaling once more I return to the sky
where I will sit and sulk
but never die.

I went out for some air
As Ophelia's winds ripped Cavan
With whips and cracks,
Swaying wires til they met like Gothic lips
Whistling a lilting melody
In a wave winding along the Carrick Road.
They wailed as banshees,
Warning men with crosses,
Women in seclusion,
Screeching in their ears,
The fairies left their hillocks,
The cairns are empty vaults;

Ophelia drowned out prayers that night,
And slipped for Scotland's shore.

Hurricane Ophelia, Oct. 2017.
jas Jan 5

the rain hits the side of my window pane
the beats of my heart begin to change
so in darkness comes to light
of what i might face
perhaps some might call it a hurricane
mixed emotions
of thoughts
gentle water turns quickly into oceans
never knowing what may be brought
the wind briefly alters
& than comes to a halt
when will it stop
so i glance out my window
looking over to the dark clouds
how much power they have
& i make a wish that my problems will drown
down to the drain
along with the pain
for i will no longer fear
the deep dark hurricane

nanda Dec 2017

she was like a hurricane
followed by winds
of a thousand miles
leaving wreckage
all behind

she was red lips
and cheap champagne
on a crispy night
leaving broken hearts
all behind

she was wilderness
a beast
that could not be tamed
leaving corpses
all behind

and she was a star
a super nova
in the sky
leaving glittery dust
all behind
for the others to catch

a simple description of a super nova
Ollie Dec 2017

I think if I were in a place right now
I’d be in the eye of the hurricane
It’s like, I can see the world falling apart around me
But it’s calm here where everything floats
The problem about this
Is that if something happens to you, it happens to me
That’s hard to explain
So I’m not gonna try
Another problem is that the eye of a hurricane can’t do anything about it especially when I’m visually impaired and my eyes don’t work
So what am I supposed to do with another eye, attach it to my forehead and hope it works?
That’s not how it works
I wrote a poem called The Way It Works not too long ago
And the problem with that is that I’m getting too relatable
But that’s all I know how to do
I have this hobby of memorizing things
If you give me anything I can memorize it if I have the interest and the time
Another bit is that I know how to rhyme
Right off the top of my head, sitting here in my bed
Goddamn, I could win a rap battle
But I won’t
Cause I stutter and I trail off my sentences and I’m second best and mumble anyway
There’s more room in the eye, I swear
Come sit next to me
Stay awhile
Make me smile
I’ll do the same for you(as long as your words are true)
I keep changing my background on my computer to space
So I think maybe my mind is one of its own
But what if I’m just a hurricane
And this series of poems is me trying to figure out
Until eventually I’m not a labyrinth
Or a galaxy
Or space
Or even a hurricane
I’m just a good, dead, 6 feet under goddamn blunder who didn’t know what to do with their life, not exactly
Right now I’ll be the eye of the hurricane but it’ll change tomorrow
So be careful
I don’t want you to be sitting next to me in here when the playlist plays Strangers

Well. I dunno anymore.
Kaity Nov 2017

Love feels like coming home
But I've found homes in many people
Every home I make is different, fit to hold the looks and laughs between us
Love is like taking a hot shower when the cold has seeped in from all of the cracks in your broken armor
After feeling like a dog licking at empty water dishes it's like realizing you have thumbs to turn on the faucet
It cannot be fit in a poem
People are not lists or metaphors but shelves of novels, walls full of paintings, flaws and idiosyncrasies.
Love is warm blood, messy mad hearts, and wild wolf loyalty.
It's faltering footsteps and tears after the moon has risen.
It's campfire pops and crackles, twisted bed sheets, and moments intertwined like fingers
Love isn't finding your way through a hurricane or boots stomping through a garden.
Love is like coming home.

Stephanie Tretow Nov 2017

I am the hurricane
I will tear you apart.
Run
Run away.
Before it is too late.
Just leave me here
I will be fine
Just as I always have been.
I am my own peaceful quiet in the storm.

Dr zik Nov 2017

Deserts; unwanted and barren lands!
Water; cause of rust and a cause of flood!
Air; cause of tornado and hurricane!
Plants; cause of deepest forests and jungles!
Land; cause of quarrel, proud and vanity!
People; cause of crowd, cause of a quarrel!
Rainbow; cause of boredom it was no use of!
When You met me
In the deepest dark!
O' Lord!
With the smiling face!
With the modest blow!
Made me see
In the eternal flux of light!
When I was bestowed!
With the seeing eyes!
And I found a changed!
The entire sight
Deserts into gardens!
Thorns into flowers;
Spreading sweet smell
Dancing butterflies;
Source of pleasure Lord|!
Water into streams and water-falls!
Air into flute; whistling, whispering!
Plants into source of hope and oxygen!
Land into source of hope!
O' my Lord!
We are in search of You, O' my Lord!
As we all bow to offer a gratitude!
Rainbow bows to show pleasure,
Colour of life;
And the birds
Started chirping every where
And now they are all musing amusing.

Dr Zik's Poetry
JR Morales Nov 2017

No water, no power,
Minutes die, yearning hours.
“Puerto Rico will rise,” they say...
Maybe; though it seems like hope for another day.

50 days, and tomorrow's in the copy machine.
50 days of hand-washing clothes clean.
50 days of boling water for a drink
50 days of mosquitoes not letting me think.
50 days of living with this heat as my captor...

50 days since the "before",
50 days living in the "after".

Living in Puerto Rico has been... complicated, to say the least. Today is the 50th day since Hurricane María, and - though there's been progress - it's been slow and tedious. Just needed a space to vent. Thanks for reading :-)
Nasira Nov 2017

When he comes home and tears a piece of you away like chipping wood of a bark
And tells you you’re not good enough, "You’re really not that smart"
Refuses to walk out of the way when you're crossing his path
And leers at your skin like you're a worn piece of art
Touches your body and calls you scarred
But if the sight of another man's eyes made my body unclean
Is the dirt from my body or those eyes that seen?
When he slams a fist in your face like its an old punching bag
Drags you by the hair like an overused rag
When he forces his way into you "It wasn’t that bad"
Why is he allowed to operate heavy machinery
When the sight of my naked legs can drive him mad
"She must have been asking for it" "They're meant for breeding"    
I am sorry the sound of my NO was so misleading
"Know your place" he says, women can't be leading
Remind him
That everything he can do, you can do bleeding
Remind him who you are and for what you are known
A force of nature that cannot be owned
The one they compare to the warships and the black widow
With the rage of the fire and the ice of the snow
Remind him.
That your storm will break his bravado if you just blew
For hurricanes were not named after him.
They're named
after
You.

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