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Amna Khan May 2020
The clouds grumble
as if on cue
with my rage.
My palms streak the lightning
with utmost familiarity.
A pet loyal as ever;
always awaiting
the slightest nod
to curse all who ever belittled me.
Skyler Apr 2020
It appears in flashes,
Like white lightning
That leaves trees in ashes.

To say it's complicated
Would be watering it down.
Patiently it's cultivated.

Always beaten back
An unfortunate child,
Left alone in a shack.

It comes as no surprise,
As it finally erupts
Amidst terrible cries.

'You never listened!
As I cried and cried.'
Eyes glazed and glistened.

I see it now,
Small sweet child,
I will show you how

You can be heard again
So, that hurt and anger
No longer causes us pain.
I have a weird and complicated relationship with my anger. When it appears, it's quick and sharp. It's always the gateway emotion for things lurking deeper within as if my brain can no longer hold onto anything else. I liken it to my inner child wanting to be heard. It has tried everything else, it knows anger will catch my attention.
Daria Apr 2020
When lightning bolts and thunder
begin to strike and rumble,
when heavy rain drops of my sorrow
first touch the lashes,
eyebrows furrow.
An era shall begin.
Jaxey Apr 2020
the lightning
that struck
my heart
the hail
that crushed
my soul
darling
you are the most
beautiful storm
i have ever seen
"who said storms can't be beautiful?"
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
The Wonder Boys
by Michael R. Burch

(for Leslie Mellichamp, the late editor of The Lyric,
who was a friend and mentor to many poets, and
a fine and evocative poet in his own right)

The stars were always there, too-bright cliches:
scintillant truths the jaded world outgrew
as baffled poets winged keyed kites—amazed,
in dream of shocks that suddenly came true . . .

but came almost as static—background noise,
a song out of the cosmos no one hears,
or cares to hear. The poets, starstruck boys,
lay tuned in to their kite strings, saucer-eared.

They thought to feel the lightning’s brilliant sparks
electrify their nerves, their brains; the smoke
of words poured from their overheated hearts.
The kite string, knotted, made a nifty rope . . .

You will not find them here; they blew away—
in tumbling flight beyond nights’ stars. They clung
by fingertips to satellites. They strayed
too far to remain mortal. Elfin, young,

their words are with us still. Devout and fey,
they wink at us whenever skies are gray.

Originally published by The Lyric. Keywords/Tags: poets, wonder boys, stars, lightning, electricity, sparks, shock, shocks, smoke, cosmos, cosmic song, celestial music, music of the spheres, Peter Pan, Neverland, flight, fly, flying, soaring, elves, elfin, magic, fey, immortal
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Shock
by Michael R. Burch

It was early in the morning, in the forming of my soul,
in the dawning of desire, with passion at first bloom,
with lightning splitting heaven to thunder's blasting roll
and a sense of welling fire and, perhaps, impending doom—

that I cried out through the tumult of the raging storm on high
for shelter from the chaos of the restless, driving rain . . .
and the voice I heard replying from a rift of bleeding sky
was mine, I'm sure, and, furthermore, was certainly insane.

Published by Penny Dreadful, The Eclectic Muse, Fullosia Press and Poetry Life & Times. Keywords/Tags: shock, nightmare, insanity, dream, dreams, storm, rain, lightning, thunder, rift, sky, red, bleeding, ******, voice
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Resurrecting Passion
by Michael R. Burch

Last night, while dawn was far away
and rain streaked gray, tumescent skies,
as thunder boomed and lightning railed,
I conjured words, where passion failed ...

But, oh, that you were mine tonight,
sprawled in this bed, held in these arms,
your ******* pale baubles in my hands,
our bodies bent to old demands ...

Such passions we might resurrect,
if only time and distance waned
and brought us back together;
                                                      now
I pray these things might be, somehow.

But time has left us twisted, torn,
and we are more apart than miles.
How have you come to be so far—
as distant as an unseen star?

So that, while dawn is far away,
my thoughts might not return to you,
I feed your portrait to the flames,
but as they feast, I burn for you.

Published by Songs of Innocence and The Chained Muse. Keywords/Tags: resurrecting, passion, desire, lust, ***, night, dawn, rain, thunder, lightning, bodies, *******, arms, portrait, flames
AP Vrdoljak Apr 2020
A rumble calls
A false cry for rain
Wither the plants
In a dry spring’s pain
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Ibykos Fragment 286, circa 564 BCE
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come spring, the grand
apple trees stand
watered by a gushing river
where the maidens’ uncut flowers shiver
and the blossoming grape vine swells
in the gathering shadows.

Unfortunately
for me
Eros never rests
but like a Thracian tempest
ablaze with lightning
emanates from Aphrodite;
the results are frightening—
black,
bleak,
astonishing,
violently jolting me from my soles
to my soul.



Preposterous Eros
by Michael R. Burch

“Preposterous Eros” – Patricia Falanga

Preposterous Eros shot me in
the buttocks, with a Devilish grin,
spent all my money in a rush
then left my heart effete pink mush.

Keywords/Tags: Ibykos, fragment, translation, Eros, Aphrodite, Thracian, tempest, lightning, jolt, soul, spring, apple, trees, river, flowers, grape, vine, shadows
LC Apr 2020
she stops at a plateau.
everywhere she looks, she sees
distinct memories from her past.
to the left are cotton candy skies,
fields of rainbow gumdrops.
straight ahead are the ruins,
ash and tar darkening the land.
to the right are serene clouds
paired with flashes of lightning.
she's not sure if there are
mountains or valleys ahead,
but after seeing her past,
and who she is now,
she's ready to continue her journey.
#escapril day 5!
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