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ShFR Sep 2023
A growl.. a stomach?
No, that was —
atmospheric
If not hunger I hope we are all parched
© 2023 by ShFR All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of ShFR
Louise May 2023
The monsoons of the heart
The cyclones of our whereabouts
It's all brewing and burning
at the same time

Within the all-seeing eye of the storm,
the haze and hail over my island are born
It's both evening and morning
at the same time

The violent destructions on the east
The threatening strong winds on the west
It's all beginning and ending
at the same time
ALC Aug 2022
The tempest builds in its confined earthly cavity,
Swirling and crushing its source.
It roars searching for escape,
Thundering out with torrential rains.
Lighting sparks through veins
Escaping in blistering snaps.

The soul relishes in the primal storm,
Yearning for a greater release,
A larger typhoon to rip this earth away.
To shatter the shell constraining its rage.
It shakes with monumental tremors,
Succumbing it’s structure,
to rubble on the floor.
-ALC August 14, 2022
Learn to say No
Don’t give an explanation.
They don’t deserve one.
Stop saying it’s okay when it isn’t.

If they grab your arm, push them away, kick their shins.
If they get angry and yell at you, yell louder.
You are a powerful Woman,
You don’t deserve to be trampled on.

Use your Voice!
You have the force of a Typhoon in your voice.
Drown out the misogyny and wash them out of your life.
Tell them that the answer is NO.
Don't forget to purchase your very own copy of my book, "Digging Graves in Flower Beds," by Alexandria Grigsby on Amazon
Link in Bio!
Autmn T Dec 2019
If I'm to feel the shake of your winds gather the leaves from the trees will the rain fall down brushing my skin gently. Will the cleanse chill my skin, cause me to shiver or recoil? Will it touch my heart and cause a typhoon like the tears over missing you, its been years since I last knew what to do.
Yani Oct 2018
The night was freezing,
trees furiously swaying;
I screamed, I called.
Your name echoed, resonated.

Without any answer,
I waited, have you gone away?
Shared memories, have you buried them?
Tell me, "I am here."

I heard you
but you did not call;
upon seeing you, I hugged you
like you've been away for so long...

And for so long you'll be away.
Holding your hands, I felt it.
It's like you've gone to another world;
stricken, my heart felt numb.

For you are so cold
and into the cold ground
I cried, I'd save you
if I could.
Danilo Florenzio Jul 2018
The red moon
Red as the blood that fills our hearts
Red as the passion that give us fire
As the seduction that leave us flying

It is in bloom
As the good feelings that we transpire
As all the passion that inspires us
As all the loveliness we admire

As a typhoon
Like the pleasure that makes we go wild
Like that moon of love up in the sky
Like all the bloom of all our desire
Like that typhoon of love intensified
Another wonder in that wonderful sky.
KRRW Aug 2017
Smoke
gets trapped
under the leaves
of trees
after the rain.
It gave me
the impression
that the shadows
of those leaves
are glowing.
Up the sky,
I can see
the sun,
but it doesn't
hurt
my eyes.
The chilling wind
carried the scent
of the muddy soil
beneath my feet.
It reminded me
of all the devastation
brought upon
by the storm.
Last night
it rained.
Written
05 August 2015


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
Tamera Pierce Apr 2016
Every sunrise brings a wave of hurt to wash over me like a typhoon.
Every sunset brings my regrets to come rest like bricks on my shoulders.
Threatening to snap  my spine in two.

Every doubt comes and shackles to my ankles.
I let the metallic taste melt into my blood stream and become part of me.

Every noise shatters my ear drums and sends shocks through my body.
They leave burns streaked across my body like tattoos.
Tattoos that won't wash off in the sink.
They won't fade with time.
Tattoos that remind me who I am.
...Or used to be.

Every blade of grass cuts my feet like words cut my back as you stuck each one in with precision.

Every car drives away with my hopes and dreams buckled in the back seat listening to the radio.
Singing every word like they can't hear me crying for them to return.

Every cloud rains on my mind like acid that pours from the bottle into his glass.
Like hatred onto the plate that she sniffs.

Every warmth I feel drowns in my sorrows like I drown in the typhoon that lays at my feet.
I will always have my tattoos.
a memory of myself.
...or used to be.
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