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Shane Lee Jul 27
There are those that live in the rain and those that live with it. She wanted to live in it, but I found that she is the latter. I watched her close as she sat by the window. Her reflection looking back at nothing as she stares out thinking of everything. She says she thinks of moving to San Francisco, how her clothes are out of date, why her cat hasn't come home yet, where it is. She says she thinks about how the sun beams down and how we ignore that it's really a self-igniting bomb billions of years overdue, that the universe is never on our side, and that the crystallized rocks and clashing colors are a mask for its darkness.

She thinks of puppies and kittens newly born and blind, of Pitbulls and Rottweilers and how friendly and amazing they are, why the oceans are such mysteries to us but our own cosmic address is not. She tells me that she misses my long hair but androgyny really suites me, that she distrusts those that are too upfront about themselves, and that she likes bubble baths overlooking the beach at sunrise. She says she thinks of budding flowers and how they bloom once the rain stops. She says she can't wait to see it.

She has told me she thinks of closing chapters and opening new ones but fears breaking the spine and folding the pages of a new book. She has told me her fears and worries about the cosmos, the world, our city, our front yard. But she also told me she thinks that the rain is a sign that powers beyond us weep because they see that we can change. She says she chooses to enjoy the thought that the rain casts gray clouds overhead and how it always brings flowers afterwards ... because she lives in a world after rain, rather than living  in it.
Enjoy (:
Eloisa Jun 11
She was sewn from a stream
of significant disasters,
but she has taken charge of the tide.
Directing the course of the storm,
she became one with the fiercest gyre.
The lightning, the moment
through the raging sea,
the season of her storm is done.
The smell of the after-rain,
the calmness of the shores mended the remnants.
A rainbow of colors and vibrance, the abundance of black clouds is gone.
The beautiful sky,  
a magical release
from these painful bonds.
Courage and kindness,
gratitude and strength,
the real treasures are now found.
Alio May 4
A storm rages on
Trees thrash and break
Windows and ears split from the roar of thunder
Colossal building shake and bend
Rain floods the road
Seeps in basements and cars and the earth
Waves throw their full weight at the beach
Birds and Foxes have long since burrowed
Sensing the coming storm

Yet at the same time
Not far away
A gentle breeze hushly moves the tall grasses in fields
Tickles the leaves of blooming trees
Weaves its way through the towns and over the waters
The people roam the beaches and streets with smiles on their faces and the sun on their skin

Everywhere has its own storm in its own time
And everyone has their own battle at their own time
we don't look
too closely
and certainly
don't look
directly at it
it's something that
as far
as we are aware
has always been there
and
always will be

it sends us
its warmth
its light
and
from this
comfort
     and peace
will be shared

unseen
by eyes
that are
unwilling
to look;
at its surface
is a storm
of fire
a raging
that cannot
be controlled
with the power
to destroy
it all

don't look
too closely
just
smile back
Ellesora Rue Jan 2
I shut down, restart,
Try to rid myself of an unwelcome guest
What is this awakening... thing in me
It terrifies me
It rises, a dragon, a phoenix
It roars and weeps and hisses
It trembles and whispers and cowers
It bubbles and tickles and shines
It stings and aches and burns
It coils, constricts
It is claustrophobic and freeing
It is drowning in air
It is contradictions
A storm in my chest
Does everyone have this––
This storm in your chest?

–––An Android Awakening: a Memoir in Verse

@toopragmaticbookworm
'An Android Awakening: a Memoir in Verse' isn't a real book, just one of my fabrications :)

Written for day 2 of @angelealowes January writing prompts: storm in your chest
Anais Vionet Nov 2021
The storm is over - no, not last week’s nor’easter - midterms. I hope you survived.

New England seems to be one, big, storm-of-the-month club. Campus is 5 minutes from Long Island Sound and I like to go watch the mesmerizing roil of the ocean when a storm’s rolling in.

The choppy hazel undulations, opaque as enamel, seem to coil-up - then suddenly slap the shoreline breakers as if testing their resolve. The wind whipped salt-water patterns, like folds of linen. The wind and salt water mist in your face feels as sharp and violent as glass shards.

The sun occasionally pierces the clouds like a knife strike only to be healed in moments. The whole scene is beautiful, immense and uncontrollable - like eating cake by the ocean. (song reference).
Where i lived, in Georgia was nowhere near the beach
Anais Vionet Sep 2021
(a five minute poem - sorry, that’s all I’ve got)

I came to the university
to get some needed privacy
- to learn about the world
and give adult life a whirl.

I’m up here in the frozen north,
where I expected cold and polar bears
and the pressure of academic cares
- but there’s a storm every week
- my mom, back home, has started to freak.

This weather feels like Florida
should we keep the windows boarded-up?
Can we get the power back?
The butteries are flooded
- we can’t get snacks!

I think it’s all hilarious
and so far, a peak experience.
This looks like one of my best decisions
in spite of natures interventions.
University life, so far has been wet fun - like summer camp!
Wilkes Arnold Aug 2021
Rain is only rain
When it's with itself
A raindrop alone is merely a tear
Maybe that's why I can't cry with others
Maybe that's why I love the rain
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