#gusts
Blood-soaked blue sky
Smell our vinaigrette of helplessness
The honey crying chords of a zillion golden cubs
Roots that won’t die
Bursting through us
Dark crimson walls high
Too shame our innards
Tear-drenched rain
Draining our conscience
Pulling us toward the marble migraine
Where blinded gerents continue the measured deterrent
Of life desperate
Keeping hearts from heads
And minds from mouths
Away from this marble pavement
High up top, in cobwebs of restitched tapestry
Skeleton beast, less beastly in breathlessness...
A surge of sun spurged light in clustered cusps
Blows into this lecher
To carry our vividness
Like pappus in great gusts...
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 7:42 PM UTC
my breath?
ragged
tainted
untamed
uneven
billowing gusts of air
how
can it
even escape my lungs
when my
heart
jackhammers so
mercilessly?
i’m filled with nothing but
curiosity
and
intrigue
i want to be filled with nothing but
you
i want
your lips
your hair
your hands
your arms
i want
time
to explore
the
inches of your ******
surface
i want to make you feel
a way
you have never
felt
before
Jan 5, 2020
Jan 5, 2020 at 11:17 AM UTC
The wind plays a symphony that only the silent can hear.
Close your eyes, put your mind at peace, and open you heart to the sound.
Let the breeze fill your lungs and lift you higher.
Hear the rustle of the leaves high above and the gusts whistling a tune.
Windchimes add percussion while the hum of the earth beneath your feet casts a steady beating of your heart.
Breathe in, breathe out becomes the harmony.
And the wind roars the melody.
You are the conductor, the one in control.
You guide the song through its journey and take a victorious bow.
And when you stand and look out again and wonder why it has to go,
Remember that there will always been another symphony storm
-t.s.
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 10:23 PM UTC
Starry sky, crickets chirp, wind skips lightly across my skin
I whisper,
I am peaceful, my love.
Sun beams pierce the windshield, my hair floats recklessly from the open window, music playing,
I sing
I am carefree, my love.
A light drizzle with a light rustle in the trees, grey sky, puddles under foot
I mutter
I am lonely, my love.
Sharp cold air scratched against my face, snow like glass, shiver in my bones,
I Bellow
I am angry, my love.
Chaotic gusts like trains rushing by, thunder crashes, the sky groans in angst
I cry
I am in pain, my love.
The breeze softens and floats with the rain, eerie stillness, the world is quiet once more,
I gasp
I am exhausted, my love.
My moods are like the wind. Ever changing, ever growing, and forever calling your name.
-t.s.
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 10:20 PM UTC
a short reprieve
as time would tell
but for that moment
as winter yielded to rest
Ballaarat had turned on a day
no more did grey rain
slice savagely side-wards
shot from Antarctica's ice-fields
separating ribs from shivering flesh
leaving futile dreams of an early spring
this day was good
leaves barely rustled
occasional gusts stirred
caught in silent murmurings
as bulbs reached up with impish smile
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 4:52 AM UTC