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Z 7h
4
A vivid evocation
A memory of form
A mutual ovation
The calm and then the storm
GreenTrees Feb 2015
I am a Tempest!!!
I sit still and quiet for just a few.
I feel  the clouds in my head begin to brew.
The sky darkens and the clouds become heavy with  fear and change their hue.
All the kids run inside and  only those brave enough to  hang on see the morning dew.
Hurricane is insane!
Sailing on a black wave of deception,
it's quagmire of lies
suck me into the vortex of its absurdities,
make a mockery of my sensibilities.

But, in the heart of its insanity
the hurricane nurses a sanctuary of sensibility.

Is it a mirage to lure me deeper into its deceptions, who knows!
A touch we took, because each breath we wore, whispered yes, inside the searching.  So, we circled all our pride with warmth of reason, so we could keep from hurting.

We both smiled at those clouds of divine truth, spinning backwards as they dispensed.  Since an appetite for silence, fueled the moon and stars in this world, as our defense.

One storm caught a kiss we thought had touched the ground of breathtaking rivers to the sea. Yet, neither of us cried out in fear or yearned to fill the empty space, left for free.
Neva Flores Varga Copyright@09/17/18 - Changefulstorm Poetry
Ocean storm rages
Behind these eyes, in my mind
Outwards, a calm sea
a tie
is strong
smashing debris
that drill
piles a
twist of
hers in
skies that
drew nine
to stay
there in
the tropical
air and
it's kind
daring speed
will bound
the question
swift in relief
raewyn 5d
your new beau sleeps
on the left side of the bed
and he has a smile like mercury, like moonlight:
it spills over you like a melody you just remembered
your mother used to sing when you were sleeping.

your new beau sings
(sometimes loudly, in the shower)
and he showers you with love like summer rain:
warm and soft and charming, like a teddy bear you find
that still smiles, buoyed by ghosts of your affection.

your new beau lights
cigarettes, your heart, the room
with the careless chaos-grace of a tornado:
sleek and bold and brilliant, so natural yet so strange
that you can't ever really catch your breath around him.

but there's another reason why
he will remind you of a storm
and there's a reason his bedside is the left;
he left me, he always leaves, and someday he'll leave you too
as the moon sets, the rain stops, the storm rests.

he'll leave you unmoored, and adrift, and confused
a ghost ship, alone in the blue,

he'll appear in your daydreams like the quickening wind
that asks of your sails: "where to?"
The grey clouds cover
my clear blue Sky
as the Storm  threatens
the calmness of my Sea.
Still, I dared to open my eyes
to gaze upon the horizon
hoping that the grey clouds
will be soon lifted
and my heart be put at ease.
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