"brontide" poems
I am wild, my akushla,
a solivigant.
But you are a cynefin.
Your kalon conceives resfeber in me.
Beasts rumble within like brontide,
they chant of redamancy, my trouvaille.
The dragoman drew me to you
Speaking of yugen
the susurruss mountains
they cured my atelphobia
Submontane caves
where our lights baltered among the selcouth crystals
Reminding me of basorexic spoondrift
breaking the moonglades you adore,
my fellow parallian.
Perhaps it was boyish werifesteria
or maybe I was selenotropic
to fall in love with a gentle boobook
ever so finifugal when we speak
But I feel filipendulous when abendrot bows for advesperacit
You sometimes consider it sphalolaliah,
my words, going ever on and on,
But I’ll learn your lagom, if you give me time
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
~
*we two are a moon
in our common era
a clan of rainfall
use of water as sacred currency
chanting for a once held belief
fallen through the thread
light years from home
it's a pilgrimage
to hear the brontide
to feel our own unique gravity
guide us ashore*
~
Oct 6, 2022
Oct 6, 2022 at 11:07 AM UTC
So, this is how it ends. In the tests of generous love, we defied all of mankind, but something in this heart of mine is telling me it’s time to stare down the eye of destiny.
I’ve hunted black holes of silence to find peace, and in turn that darkness has swept me into an unshakeable fever. I feel like I’m forever breaking. I feel like I’m always digging for the feel of something new.
When the silence of the world holds me, and when I am agonized with disquiet, I find myself thinking the good times may never come back again.
There’s a specific, maddening breed of danger out here on the edge, and final understanding.
Sitting here with my feet dangling into the void, I’m watching the sun crash from the sky into the horizon, and there is golden fire sailing along the edge of the mountains.
I know the echo that is love; I hear its brontide footsteps fading into the faraway distance, as if somebody is slowly turning down the volume.
Like a machine shaking and shuddering with voltage, I’m giving in to whatever moves me.
Whatever moves me.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 3:20 AM UTC
(n.) The low rumble of distant thunder
The sky soon shall shed its tears,
I sit outside I have no fear.
I imagine myself on the pale hot shore,
wiggling my toes in white sand,
laughing at the idea of rain.
What numbskull could think it would rain?
I have heard no thunder
but my ears were full of sand.
I did not feel my eyes fill with tears.
I made my bedroom door the shore
and I was an ocean people would fear.
I had never felt this much fear
clouds filled my eyes and down came the rain.
The storm now covered every inch of the shore
and my words became the loudest thunder.
I awake in my bed, wet from my tears
and I wish I was in the sand.
Oh, I wish I was in the sand,
not drowning in a puddle of my own fear,
not filling my lungs with salt-like-sea water tears.
My wishes are wicked away like sprinkled summer rain.
They are as far away as the low rumble of distant thunder.
They come and go as often as the shore.
I open my door, greeted by the rising dawn shore
and I step on the carpet like it is the white sand.
There is no more thunder,
but there is still fear.
I sit on the back porch, and feel the morning summer rain,
and wonder why the sky here, always has tears.
The sky fills its own eyes with tears,
and the sunrise still reminds me of the shore.
I wish that in the morning, it was not allowed to rain,
that it had to be crisp and dry like summer sand.
That way I do not have to fear,
the low rumble of distant thunder.
Oh, the morning showers are the sky’s jealous tears, he wishes he could be a sun rising in the sand
He rumbles, ”The morning sun rising with the shore is so much more pleased, he never cries, he never weeps! Please do not fear,
the rain, but the rumble of low distant thunder.”
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
Clouds gather together as if preparing for a siege;
they threaten us with lighting but the bolts cannot quite reach.
The sky has many things to say but wastes no air on speech,
so we gather close to see if our walls the storm will breach.
Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 10:46 AM UTC
The world went dark;
The sun shut off like a light bulb,
The land turned to ice,
The clouds stopped floating,
And there was the absence of life.
Outside
It was quiet
Solemn and calm
And the ocean retained its glossy surface
Not a pin drop
Or a brontide
Or a baby's soft cry can be heard
Which frightened me
If all these things around me
Are still,
Then I wonder
Why I'm moving.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
The brontide words
Of a wounded man
Echo still,
Silent
From when they began
In this place.
...
A voice, not his!
But an Injured man anew
Casting the echoes back
To the stranded,
The echoes remain
Repeated in a new voice
From another wounded man
With brontide dreams
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 12:35 AM UTC
I wouldn't want others to see the world the way I do.
It was too painful a road to go down.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC
In my last dalliance between Parchment and Ink,
I crossed many a line, without a blink;
And like a fading whisper, beckoning your heart,
I bridged two worlds, never meant to be apart.
The fading music of the Brontide;
The cursing of the storm’s bride;
The growing nebulous of our dreams,
Are Symbolic of more than what it seems.
So follow those amorphous puffs of smoke;
Into an unexplored world of caprice;
Where the chrysalis of inhibitions broke;
And desire rode the midnight breeze.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
i hear brontide as she calls your name,
a lover that she is undeserving of.
too monotonous,
she could never make your soul wonder..
of course she was beautiful,
but what you wanted was beauty beneath the surface.
she was no fit for you, a King.
she was a quean, you needed a Queen.
but you stayed, why?
i have cryptoscopophyllia but, to your soul.
she wanted to just love you,
i wanted to destroy you with the complexity of my love for you..
darling, why are you settling?
you cannot be apprehensive,
we are of the same unique animating principle,
yet in the end we are nothing more than love and space dust.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 2:59 AM UTC
You are upsweep and whistle,
brontide I'd rather misconstrue.
Cordelia, you are abrasive
and I was never tough,
but my fingers are calloused
and my hands compliant.
Your empty bellows
are all I believe in.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC
Is it the brontide or just the beating of my heart?
Is it the wind who grazes my body or is it you?
Am I drowning in the sea or just in your eyes once again?
Is it an eartquake or just the butterflies in my stomach that want to be free?
Is it the ugly truth or just a beautiful lie?
Am I the hero or the villain of this story?
Are you the villain or the hero of our story?
Am I the light or just the darkness to let yours shine?
Are you the darkness or the light that diminishes my darkness?
Is my heart following my head or my head following my heart?
Am I free or caged? (in your embrace)
Have I lost myself or found myself? (in this lovelife)
Too many thoughts, too many questions in my head for me to answer now. I might answer them later… when I'm not grim with loving you.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
rain mist wreathed
virid groves
of evergreen
sun languished
behind clouds grey
overcast sky
lachrymose;
distant rumble
thunder;brontide
pellet-laden gusts
of wind;cold
leaf-stirring
nubivagant drops
falling
glistening foliages
rustling;
celadon leaves
rain-washed
brushwood damp
galore humus
dewy silence;
gerful downpour
incipient
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 12:32 PM UTC
Can't you remember the brontide?
how we tried
to hide
in eachothers embrace
face to face
away from that place
All I want is to be back
let the rafter break
wind so strong
makes the house shake
the good winter
as a soundtrack to us
we could rebuild the truss
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC