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Tom Lengel Jun 9
As the storm sets in,
the deep scales
of ocean clouds
shimmer faces and
mystical life.

As the waved wind
tickles my face,
sounds play off my ear,
but bow to the breaks
of thunder.

Yet dim glows of lanterns
reflect from my eyes,
warming the storm’s uncertainty,
welcoming the life of rain.
It is familiar.
Shofi Ahmed Jun 6
True, the sugar tops
sweeten everyone's mouth.
Hold onto the salt though
let's not lose out.

Pinches of sea salt
    dancing smash hit
deep down the sea floor
   ace extracting ice cores,
boom, the clouds form high,
show the upside is sky!
Jubilant cumulus pop
only crystal clear vibes 
let the wind see through
that sings the rhymes.

Oops, it's not always a blue sky
wispy white clouds turn dark.
The storm soars the larks fly low
busy men down the trees
seek refugee for a mo.

Sticking my head under a roof
pondering me find a room.
Is this 'smash hit high sail
of the clouds rising from deep core,
all is gone in a blink of a storm'.

Not far in the sky
nor deep down the sea.
I see a raindrop on a shining
flower before me.
Something more to tell
very closely!
I was reading Seamus Heaney's The Death of a Naturalist poem lately. Few daws later I wrote this poem.
Crow May 10
arise vehement sea
and hammer
with your suffering fists
all the crags
and lonely stones
upon the shores of
the naked coast

where crouches
at edge of bluff
the foundations raw
cantilevered walls
and the arcing buttresses
that shelter dreams
held secret

hurl your agonized and
eager waters
at stone and mortar
shake the bedrock
on which rest
the touchstones
in the deepest cellars

let your echoing tremors
buffet and rebound
within the resonant chambers
hidden below

your ululating winds
calling to memories
in their veiled towers
peering from windows
narrow and high

their fluttering lamps
clinging to the light

they search the tumult
with eyes fearful and uncertain
cloaking forsaken desires
that thirst without end
Mark Wanless Apr 30
not even a buddha who can
count the raindrops of a storm
that last a thousand years
can understand another persons karma
Emma Apr 24
The way I have dealt with my traumas
Has varied.
They have moved as swiftly
As the seasons change,
And have always adapted to the current climate in which I live.

For a short while, I could pretend as though
Nothing happened.
I could pretend as though my pain was as
Invisible as their ability to love me,
And that I was as unaffected as
An old oak that has weathered storms past.

Then came my acceptance, and my fight.
I fought.
To be seen, and heard, and believed.
But alas, this was not to be.
It was then I learned, that sometimes silence is what is needed
To weather a great storm.

Then came the talking.
With endless cups of coffee,
And whistles that glowed in the dark,
I learned what it truly meant to share my pain
With one that would not tell my secrets.
Who could not tell of the demons dancing throughout my head.
To truly learn that trust can
Also weather a great storm.

Finally, has come nothingness.
I try, desperately to forget the remaining threads that
Tether me to my memories,
Even when I still can’t sleep with my back away from a wall.
It is not a time I wouldn’t be keen to forget.
There is no storm worth remembering to weather.

There is no storm worth remembering.
To everyone unseen, or seen. Believed, or not believed. Silent, or not silenced.
My inner vision's carrying me
To a boat on quiet seas
To a place where I can be
To a place where I am free
A place of such tranquility.

That little boat's been torn and tossed
In the storm I was so lost!
Then I knew the deadly cost
Satan brews a poison sauce...
Washed away upon the cross.

Now, free of iniquity
The scales washed so I can see
There is no "them" there's only "we"
Jesus died upon the tree
All is calm on port and lee

I have true tranquility.

SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
Kassan Jahmal Apr 15
Crackling; it cracks, and cracks,
shaking the centre of glass,
Shaking the voice of words to comprehend.
As like in the ocean's centre,— undermined of where
it begins or ends.

Falling to the ground; a strike through darkest
weary clouds. It falls to the ground; loud as Lucifer
had fallen out of Heaven,— as with all those angels
kicked out.

Rumbling, and rumbling, falling lightening like
mountains. Rocks that are tumbling, tumbling,
and tumbling to crush.
A crushing feeling is on my skin; peering through
clear glass shadows.

The first echo of thunder; has left a crack on my

Nigdaw Apr 7
the dark brooding cloud
that hangs some way off
is the distance between us
supercell of anxiety
will it rain or just
is the thunder threatening
or just the rumblings
of a fresh summer storm
after a heatwave

we both look at the forecast
for tomorrow
and with heavy hearts
see what the long range
predictions are
there may be some
patches of sunshine
in moments when we forgive and forget
the odd warm day
here and there
but we both know
winter is coming
so is your mother to spoil Christmas again
the ice is at it’s thickest
and snow is on the horizon
Snipes Apr 5
The grey storms smite
I was lost, I was dead
Clear the air
God answer my prays
Teach me how to swim without fear
But the answer I got was clear

As the grey clouds collide
With the orange vanishing sun
The golden brown shifts my wish
These last few violet skies
Guide my mind
In the night
Here’s my insight
These cold winds blow
These cold words strike
So here’s my outlook
I am the clear air
I am smiting delirious
I first remembered years ago,
At twenty-something,
Speeding along in a 240Z
With my father.
Apropos of nothing,
I suddenly remembered it all,
The pain, fear, chases
And flights up stairs,
Only to have her catch me,
And feel the pummeling fists
Like a mad horse’s hooves,
Treading me down.
Back in the present,
My father was admiring trees
As we buzzed past them,
Unaware of the storm beside him.
She wore him down too
In a different way,
With constant denigration.
Over the years I watched
As he shrank way to
A painful, infested brain.
Unlike me, he had no defense,
Loving her as he still did.
It was as if he chose cancer
instead of anger or rebellion.
I had raged against her
And stood tall from childhood
To the now, when thunderheads
Rose from me above her.
Long ago, she had been
The random bolts from the blue,
Causing pain but not killing.
Now I am the storm,
Gathering over years,
Sweeping up heat and vapor
Sending and receiving energy.
The lightning bolts are truth
And their pain is admission,
Though never bringing remorse.
I am the storm warning her to run,
While knowing that she never will.

Edited October 2, 2021
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