The wind in the trees
Blades of grass catching raindrops
And you in my ears
All of these with an open mouth
I still believe
Still believe indeed
if on a dark and stormy sea
washed with cold and spray
i see a lighthouse calling me
i will gladly turn away
want the travail of the wind
want the cold and spray
harbour is an earthly place
no place for me to be
if there was something inhuman about your touch that i could explain,
it would be equivalent to that of an eternal flame.
if there was something to describe the emotions you gave me,
it would feel like a strong ocean wave.
many overpowering sensations you give me are equal to natural disasters.
but for me,
it’s always so calm.
the earth operates with these thundershowers of weather,
and without them,
there wouldn’t be the world we know today.
i wouldn’t be who i am today.
so rain on me,
even when i can’t take anymore.
Oooh! I love you
i know you love me
we deal to meet nearer
your home to go to marry
the winds blew and get waether stormy
we couldn't meet at any way
we deal on nother day
there was idle and revlot on that day
we couldn't meet again
the last deal was established
i found great party happened
the part was for her married
she said," i will marry my nearest neighbor
as no way to get my marriage be late more"
the deal time needs to be know the weathwer and ts conditions
I’m not broken
I’m a puzzle not to be solved
I’m a bird of…
Preying on rain…
But the clouds elude my webs
I’m the underside of an antisocial umbrella
What with the moisture-averse lovers nowadays
I shoo them off and twist my spokes
And finally I’m no longer pretending completeness for the sake of my surroundings
Because She comes clad timeless
Comes with the thunder
And She tastes like all or nothing
In the hours after
When the rain falls slowly beneath the stormy lights
When the only omission left is a sigh
And the duration of a breath has passed
I'll know then by
Where we stand within this life
And what was meant, therein, hereby
This is not my town
But must I try
Question is it.
let me paint my morning for you
I'm alone, in my room
it's a stormy summer morning
And we are sitting around talking
today we're wondering what to do.
Depression sulks deep into the sheets
"why get up! you don't have plans"
and the alarm begins to buzz
Optimist whimpers "its still early, I can get up and get rolling" but no one is moving
Hopeless Romantic dreams "maybe the mail man will come through and ask me how I'm doing"
To be Tweaked
I'm told I'm bad at lying,
all too often I say too much.
When I get sick of trying
I find I flick from on to off.
The warmest smile can quickly turn
into an icy state;
in eyes which swore they knew you
-you will find there's no one there.
I'd love just like a waterfall
with no fear of running out;
'til from my eyes water would fall
like raindrops in a drought.
Now, the most inclusive laughter
slows right down to a flickering glance.
Fuses cut short
after weathering storms
and we dont know
they will last.
writer's rough patch
Calm, cool, contemplative.
This is all her face said to me.
Peering at me from behind pale, grey eyes,
she appeared rather wise.
Yes, those saucer-shaped eyes
reminded me much of the sky,
or a boat about to capsize.
So stormy were those eyes
that hid so much.
All because of those irreplaceable,