The wind howled against the glass
Threatening to break it down
Mighty sky covered the clouds
In color grey, black and brown
Gush of wind blows out the candle
While darkness consumes it all
A thunder cracks through the sky
As if to answer darkness’s call
All the trees bow down to the wind
Maybe asking for mercy or kindness
The fallen leaves fly in the sky
Perhaps to win an invincible race.
The heavy rain drenched it all
Drowning everything pure and good
Looking at the weather I was sure
It was a perfect representation of my mood

The wind tapped at the glass
To inform it’s arrival
Mighty skies growled to let me know
That the future wasn’t my rival
Gush of wind blows out the candle
Maybe to tell me to take a break
A thunder shows me a glimpse of outside
The future, which is mine to take
The trees danced in sync with the wind
Happy again to be fresh and green
Or maybe they were simply thankful
As now the streets were sparkly clean
The heavy rain drenched it all
To wash away everything sad
Looking at the weather I was sure
That in this reality I am glad

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.

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

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

A rumble calls
A false cry for rain
Wither the plants
In a dry spring’s pain

For a Palestinian Child, with Butterflies
by Michael R. Burch

Where does the butterfly go ...
when lightning rails ...
when thunder howls ...
when hailstones scream ...
when winter scowls ...
when nights compound dark frosts with snow ...
where does the butterfly go?

Where does the rose hide its bloom
when night descends oblique and chill,
beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill?
When the only relief’s a banked fire’s glow,
where does the butterfly go?

And where shall the spirit flee
when life is harsh, too harsh to face,
and hope is lost without a trace?
Oh, when the light of life runs low,
where does the butterfly go?

Published by Tucumcari Literary Review, Romantics Quarterly, Poetry Life & Times, Victorian Violet Press (where it was nominated for a “Best of the Net”), The Contributor (a Nashville homeless newspaper), Siasat (Pakistan), and set to music as a part of the song cycle “The Children of Gaza” which has been performed in various European venues by the Palestinian soprano Dima Bawab. Keywords/Tags: butterfly, children, storm, lightning, thunder, hailstones, snow, frost, night, shelter, comfort, safety, rose, fire, warmth, Holocaust, Nakba, Gaza, Trail of Tears, slavery, injustice, abuse, ethnic cleansing, genocide

Chloe
by Michael R. Burch

There were skies onyx at night ... moons by day ...
lakes pale as her eyes ... breathless winds
******* tall elms ... she would say
that we'd loved, but some book said we’d sinned.

Soon impatiens too fiery to stay
sagged; the crocus bells drooped, golden-limned;
things of brightness, rinsed out, ran to gray ...
all the light of that world softly dimmed.

Where our feet were inclined, we would stray;
there were paths where dead weeds stood untrimmed,
distant mountains that loomed in our way,
thunder booming down valleys dark-hymned.

What I found, I found lost in her face
while yielding all my virtue to her grace.

Originally published by Romantics Quarterly as “A Dying Fall.” Keywords/Tags: Night, onyx, skies, love, ***, sin, thunder, lightning, virtue, grace, moons, lakes, winds, mountains, Chloe