#gale
Dressed as herself now
The wind carries nothing
Wearing only her last words
"Nowhere to be found"
Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 2:15 PM UTC
A whittle of doubt
Pushes rain off the playground -
Gale wins the shuffle.
Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 11:59 PM UTC
“Mariners should alter plans to avoid these hazardous conditions. Remain in port, seek safe harbor, alter course, and/or secure the vessel for hazardous conditions.“
<•>
these governmental agencies
a veritable,, gala of cords of words,
have an urgency that is an
unintended poetry capture
the hazards of life
and their associated cruelty
oft brings out
the very finest of the best of us,
lurking in the innerest depths
we studiously avoid
lest we be embarrassed or
tearfully fulfilled
Remain in port!
(venture forth to save a life,
even your own)
Seek safe harbor!
(secure your internal best)
Alter course!
(there isn’t a single path,
that doesn’t consist of
thousands of minute
course corrections)
Secure the vessel!
(the first commandment,
your primary obligatory
to your first, the us, the rest)
for the most hazardous conditions
you’ll face,
are your own self-imposed
roadblocks and diversions,
overcome these is the hardest,
but success is freeing in a way
that makes you love this
ephemeral, always refining
de~fining yet obtainable potion
of
honest/to/goodness
true freedom
addendum
———-
discard, ignore
be wary of
those who fallback
on icebergs of curses
sandbag of ice Shoals
beneath the water surface
and when they,
reduced to bile infected
falling back on vulgarities and curses,
this the mist removal
line should never crook
or cross
Let them sink below the waterline for their talent is compromised, and they fail to understand and comprehend that poetry is intended to inspire
the commonality
that blends this potpourri of
im ourinternational collective who
value the collective spirit that informs our poetry
oh yeah
**** my dck”
fouls this temperate commune
of politesse architecture here,
wounding us all
give us no more these
***
badwordsoffensive**
worse, tools of the
poorly pathetic thumb of the inarticulate,
in one so talented
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 4:12 PM UTC
A gale bumps and beats
branches away, gates open --
bears into their caves.
May 29, 2023
May 29, 2023 at 3:53 AM UTC
may we have some nicer weather please?
At least some sunnier days than these!
It's been so cold and unbelievably wet,
it's horrid enough to get upset.
It's a bit like April but in reverse,
instead of better it's getting worse.
Can't make any plans to go outside
for a short walk or bicycle ride.
Whenever I get ready to leave the house,
heaven looks like I'm in for a douse.
Sometimes I go out in spite
and realize I'm not watertight.
Then I get drenched to the bone,
it even destroys my mobile phone.
Worse yet after it's been warm,
the sky rips open a nasty thunderstorm.
That's the part when danger lurks
with thunder lightning and the works.
Because holding up an umbrella
can sometimes torch a poor fella.
But wait, before I get into hail,
earthly tempests like heavy gale,
tornados, hurricanes and the likes.
It's definitely not worth it, yikes!
Instead of giving myself a permanent frown,
I put the kettle on and try piping down.
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 3:27 AM UTC
“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,”
“And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I 've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.”
-Emily Dickinson.
Jul 9, 2020
Jul 9, 2020 at 1:38 AM UTC
Words are wind
is a thing you used to love to say
when I would start "defending"
him
"Words are wind, Mandi!
Anyone can give you words!"
You would leave the air silent
only then with your own.
The space between us entirely empty of you.
This was not the vacuum of last spring.
There would be no side of highway hand plucked wildflowers.
No phones vibrating with your messages between thighs in sessions.
No intertwined sweat soaked limbs in the sauna of a midday tent.
I was thankful of it.
I longed for your nearness but not your misplaced romance or hope.
No -I would have you now in the Autumn.
Too depressed to breathe;
you would never draw me close.
Your words only came with
alcohol, *** or some combination of
supposed truth serums.
As you had said though:
"Words are wind, Mandi!"
And your words somehow both too abundant and too few
blew through that space between us
like a winter's Gale.
Seeking shelter from the elements you created
meant leaving you to find your own way through.
The only way out for either of us.
It is nearly spring again now.
I know it must be because
I can see primrose
defying all logic with it's
near invisible courage.
I champion it on with its
welcomed heralding of a needed
new season.
I hope that we both get to be
Ok.
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 2:07 AM UTC
A whirl blast it starts to come
pushing clouds that part for sun.
Air roar now tickles inhale.
Very strong like winter gale.
Gust makes tunnel in the sky.
Birds fly with wings oh so high.
Gales speaks to warn one and all.
Now take cover before fall.
Crystal children plan their ascend
Clouds open with flecks to send.
Nobel mountains start to shine.
Landscape white it is divine.
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 8:08 AM UTC
I want to take the hat off
And then wave my goodbye.
I am a child with a suitcase,
A woman with a crane
Taking each step with little strength,
then falling over again
I am a child that ran over,
A man with no name
Helding my hands in the sky,
begging for the rain
I was the falling paper,
from the tree of neglect
Rushed with the wind,
heavied by water, loved by the pain
I became the small pebble
that talked to little grains
Ignored and dumbfounded
and stinged by bolts of gale
I went to take the hat off,
with a smile that never fade
Soon, I will take this hat off.
So long! To you my friend.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 10:36 AM UTC
(2017)
O' marshes!
Swallow up the gale
Which farthest I could hear,
Ne'er I belong such privilege
By myrtle over there.
Recollecting where the pod
To whom I left behind,
The continent,
The humble swamps,
Surpassing us again.
E.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 5:30 AM UTC
Your eyes like unlocked windows
Open, curtains battered in wind
Body still like shattered wills
Of hopes you thought not see again
But I lay here in below
Peering up from underneath
I scratch the shadow sew
And sear the towers keep
My love I swear to reach you
To your heart I'll be the rhyne
So consider this a prelude
To the rest of all of time
I am the Gale.
Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 2:29 PM UTC
A gale tramples over fallen doors,
And desperate faces cling to a quivering flame, yet
No wall can reach their shadows.
I stand there shuddering with each lash
from the ice beyond the hearth,
A slow trickle from its toil dyeing the rubble at our feet. But still
No heads turns to face the dark.
I only know every spark withers and dies as it drifts from our circle, though the brightest voyage furthest into the night.
Looking beyond I am neither trapped nor free, but destitue
It is not resolve, courage, or despair that now turn me; I am lulled and must wake.
All thoughts deceive. Thoughts of men inspired, of gods deranged, echo in me,
And which is worse I do not know.
So tonight I will follow the sparks into gale,
Let the lash scour my ears of every voice,
And hope no man foolish enough to follow.
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 4:54 PM UTC
yes , it's snowing
a glorious spring snow
a gale
of flower petals
from my neighbor's tree......
cj 2016
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 11:31 PM UTC
A tree, stands alone in the misty, interior forest,
frozen, bark to the core,agitated, in the blizzard and gale
only embrace mother nature now blesses him with,
yet full of hope and all ears for something,humming, then-
comes alive suddenly as if a new season of efflorescence
has begun, a cycle of youth,gentle love of butterflies.
A haunting note of wafting music, wakes up the soul
the sky high tree has already forgotten, is rising above the din
booming, sonorous from the deeper part of cosmos.
The tree listens and a transformation begins in every
small root, tiny leaf and allover, the tree left in the
heart of the forest to the mercy of forces is, you know who
the music that enlivens me once again is you my love.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
*You are the sun
of the deep night
truly the brightest
of the bright
whatever comes,
keep spreading
your warm light*
This is for my roommate who had been like my sister for the past two years and counting.Thank you for always believing in me.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
I'm firing a canon in D.
D for dastardly lullaby.
I dare not the tale
of the other six fails.
My pipes will wail
in the seventh sea's gale,
I search for the white whale.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 6:34 PM UTC
Initiative is as necessary
As a bird that must rely
Upon its natural wings for it
To take off and to fly
A ship equipped with power
To withstand the frightening gale
Would bear no earthly purpose if
It ventures not to sail.
Forests would, indeed, decay
If these do not retain
Moisture from clouds that bring
Growth-sustaining rain.
A poet would be sore-beguiled
If he should sadly lose
Interest in the spirit of
His own creative Muse.
So is ones talent for success
By which one tries to live,
And could be only realized
Through sheer initiative.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC