"hailstorm" poems
I find
Myself
Among common folk
Amidst the real deal
Throwing beers back
Gulping shots
Admitting false guilts
Believing hateful ideals
Bad things
Happen when not
In the right mind
You can't remember
What went wrong
Or
What went perfectly right
But she remains
Beautiful in my memories
Absolutely breathtaking
In my
Lucid dreams
As gorgeous as
a Leonid Afremov painting
Like a hailstorm in august
Unexpected but
Gorgeous
Like you
My dear
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
We laugh upon this empty rock
We smile as we run our circles
Giggling rats
Lice swaying in unison to our meaningless song
The black ground heaves
with laughter
Let’s go waterski
above the empty sea
You’ll find me snorting and choking and twirling in a hailstorm
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 3:19 AM UTC
My sister karen was a manhater
she hated all men
deliriously
she would sit on the top
of the bunkbed she shared with sue
and with one finger curl her hair
then pull it out by the roots
it was quite disturbing
she would spend hours
every saturday doing this
until she had almost no hair left
the family worried for her
During the week when I would
come home from school (I think
I was around 7 or 8) karen (being
older and bigger) would run up to me
kick me in the gut
push me to the floor
jump on top of me
grab me by the ears
and pound my head
on the floor until
my brains fell out
this went on for several weeks
until I told my parents and
they finally put an end to it
One night sue didn't want to get caught
eating an apple in bed
so she put the core in the toilet
and it clogged it
we (all four of us)
were awakened in the middle of the night
and had to line up so my mother
could beat us with a belt
until someone confessed
I was tired so I said okay
I did it
I got a good belting that night
I was suspended from school
for a week because the teacher
complained that the welts on my back
were bleeding so profusely that
lt was interrupting the learning process
of the other children
One day I was coming home from school
and I got caught in a hailstorm
I got pelted really good
Lucky for me Mr. Doty was home for lunch
so I took cover under
his light blue ford f-series pick-up truck
hail as big as golf *****
some the size of baseballs
continued to rain down
I don't know for how long
because I fell asleep
"What were you doing under there?"
he questioned as he was shaking my arm
awakening me
(I quess he thought I was messing around
or something)
I came to and stated
"THE GOLF ***** WERE FALLING
I NEEDED A PLACE TO HIDE"
"oh" he said
"you mean to tell me you were in THAT?"
"yessir" I replied
"well, your schoolday's almost over,
maybe you should go home and rest"
"yessir"
And I went home and rested
When karen turned eighteen
she married a wife beater
for nearly ten years he would
ugly 'er up
finally she couldn't take anymore
and divorced him
But she was only following tradition
my grandpa beat his wife
my father beat his wife
and al beat karen
Yep, those three knew
how to really take a beating
But, not from a hailstorm
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
It seems that every time
I'm with you,
I feel inspired.
And of course,
with inspiration
comes the utmost desire
to do the one thing
I love greatest;
and that,
is to write.
But how do I write,
when words can't even
begin to describe
the way you play the piano?
Your gentle fingers
stroke each key with such
delicateness
and I want to cry because
your hands could never
cause harm the way
mine do.
How do I write,
when not even the
world's greatest camera
could capture the beauty of
the nighttime sky and
all the other outside wonders
that look so much more
radiant when I'm walking
right next to you?
A poem cannot justify
the fact that I used to
stay indoors when it
poured down rain
because I was scared
of getting wet.
But with you,
I'd walk through
a hailstorm
and that would be
completely fine
with me.
To be honest,
it should scare me
that a girl who
loves words could
be so speechless.
But I am fearless
because being with you
has taught me that
sometimes
I don't need to think
and I don't need to see.
I don't need anything
but my heart,
for every pulsing beat
will tell me what to do.
And now,
as I frantically search
for something to say;
an incredible form
of literature
that would take your
breath away,
I realize that
I don't need to.
Because
how do I write,
when not even
the smartest human
on earth
could explain how
when I'm with you,
my demons turn into
angels?
I need not say more
because sometimes
words just aren't
enough.
So hopefully one day
I can close my mouth,
open my heart,
and show you that
I do indeed
care about you,
too.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
daydreaming alone -
Lady's Bedstraw golden buds
under my pillow
*powerful hailstorm -
under the casino's eaves
the homeless man sleeps*
**sleeping baby boy -
his mom places in the pram
a lavender thread**
grandma's funeral -
I stumble over the roots
of an old oak tree
*tall rose at the gate -
grandma's gray mohair shawl
the same every year*
**quiet afternoon -
grandpa tells his dying wife
about the new pups**
brimming hay wagon -
on the end of the wood pole
a blue butterfly
*Forty Martyrs Day -
a child on a bike circles
the street crucifix*
**deserted station -
wild blackberries rimed in blue
through the barbed wire**
still summer morning -
wiping off a dove's claw prints
from my windowsill
*Forty Martyrs Day –
a little girl kneels once more
to watch snowdrops grow*
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
Rain is refreshing in a strange, backward way. It shocks you out of a deep, prolific lapse of participation in reality and reminds you that you’re still here. You’re still corporeal, tangible, you can feel and you can decide. But rain is still rain. It can be cold and unpleasant to be faced with, or it can be warm and welcoming. Beconing you forth to splash and smile in the reality you forgot still applied to you.
I left behind the idea of full, around the clock consciousness during my last frigid thunderstorm. I realized, during a session already dedicated to realizations, how exhausting it was trying to live my reality to its current extent. How frustrating and soul-crushing it is to have the ambition you truly believed in and planned to embark upon, forgone by the limits of a situation you have no control over. I kept a small jar of ideas and plans in the very back corner of my closet. They were safe, they couldn’t be taken out back and shot nor could they be taunted and destroyed from the inside out. When I was cornered in my intruded closet, when I was taken by the collar and shaken for my truth, they were found. Both above-mentioned circumstances played out shortly but in the opposite order. That’s when it began to rain.
I decided on an alternative: selective awareness. I keep myself alive only feeling and participating when the rain is tepid and pleasant. When I feel the temperature beginning to drop, I fall back asleep, floating through lull and lash, until the sun comes to change the course of my simulation. For days, all I will see is fog. I’m lost and isolated, but that lack of direction comes with an onset of contentedness. There is no one who can see me wandering through a deluded course I have set for myself. I don’t know where I’m walking, I don’t know what’s in front of me, so the warm rain will give me a pleasant surprise as it melts away the fog and gives me hope for sustainable warmth.
The cloudiness that lingers in my head, even when I’m experiencing kindness and sensitivity, reminds me that my effort to make my reality more livable is as viable as staying completely shrouded in fog until I wander off the edge of a cliff. Eventually, as I age out of my simulation, I’ll have skin thick enough to withstand the hailstorm I’ll be forced to reckon with. Resilience is necessary, but hope exists. I often forget it does while I’m wondering, but serenity and light remind me that fog isn’t all I’ve devolved into. Rain will come, and so will spring.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 9:39 PM UTC
I don't know how
To get her home,
Or if she has one...
Does 𝘴𝘩𝘦 even know?
If I reached out my hand,
Would she even pull?
She's been making herself larger.
I can feel her reappearance.
She gets brighter, I get darker.
Interfering with my impulse,
And it happened again...
I forgot how I got here,
Don't where I began.
▪︎ mica light ▪︎
Mar 14, 2023
Mar 14, 2023 at 10:51 PM UTC
I burnt a bridge that didn't have any water under it.
No numbing temperature to shock you.
No tormenting waves to annhilate you.
No angry current to pull you under.
The bridge let across all the danger that I wanted to avoid.
But now that I burnt it down to the ground all that danger
came crashing down into the safe haven
that was protected by my bridge.
I was told to never look down when you feel inferior.
There was grass under that bridge but I was too blind to see it.
I was too busy looking up at the speeding cars crossing this turnpike.
I was suffocated and transfixed by the high beams of my problems.
I was so busy facing my problems head on
That I never bothered to look down and find the strength in giving in.
I didn't realize the bridge was what was directing the negativity away from me.
I listened to them. Society, that is.
And what a stupid idea that was.
Because they told me to burn my bridges.
They told me to strike a match to them
And watch it settle into an unforgiving blaze
Before walking away without looking back.
But they never told me some bridges were meant to save me.
They never said the real danger could be what was beneath the bridge.
They never warned me about the dam underneath that was ready to burst.
Karma is crashing down onto me like baseball-sized hail.
It's not the boomerang effect coming back around to hit me in the face
But instead the avalanche I created from throwing it too far.
And hitting a wall that was too fragile to be played with.
The worst part is I have no bridge to take cover under in a hailstorm anymore.
And no bridge to cross to get away from the incoming avalanche.
All I have are the ashes of what I thought was hurting me.
But it was actually what was saving me.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
I'm looking for a hailstorm to run blindfolded through
For the sake of refief
A psychosomatic firing squad to save me
from this six by three square feet of dirt
that you have left me
I now drag behind myself
I have taken this earth
and sculpted it in your likeness
I am Pygmalion praying to the moon for love
but instead I get rain
and as the picture of Her and perfect summers
falls apart like mud through my finger
I clasp and grasp and gasp
and when the rain stops
I am left on my knees in the mud praying with open hands
my skin is baptized so clean my scars shine
Now as the pieces of a heart are returned to us
twisted and unwanted and rearranged like a Rubix cube
by the hands of past lovers
who we knew too fast and promised so much
but didn't care enough
to figure out our combinations
or to hold the secrets contained or the dreams cradled
in this human-sized box
I guess no one thought to tell them
that if you plan to be a past lover
return what you have found just as you have found it
and walk backwards
that the image of you walking away from me may not haunt me in the mornings
and I can make believe you are returning to me at night
but even the stars rearrange themselves
destiny can be rewritten
let what remains of my days be it's pages
in an infinite number of realities I am still happy with you
in an infinite number of realities I am tragic without you
but in this reality I may be happy without you
I'm kicking open my wardrobe and cleaning it out of all the shadows
I'm putting on a new jacket, a new hat
but I'm keeping my old shoes
for I will not forsake the path
all the roads that once only led to you now lead from you
thank you for the detour
I'm looking for new hands to run through forests with
new arms in which to build a home in
a girl to jump on bed sheets with
and a shoe box in an attic to bury you in
For this heart will grow and one day I will see
through an unbroken stained-glass window
you were just another piece of me
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC
*I'm a firm believer in the sixth sense of animals and their ability to portend the future 'sometimes' . Many cases exist , farm animals included , of strange occurrences just before an Earthquake , Tornado or Hailstorm !
Animals have the ability to pick up emotional signals from human beings as well ! We had a quarter horse that could pick up fear , a dog that would hide under the bed an hour before a hailstorm , and a pet pig that would squeal and hide from someone it didn't recognize ! Then again I had a Rooster once , that picked up on my depressed state of mind an flogged me good with its razor sharp spurs one afternoon ! I questioned his ability to see the future later on that evening as I rocked on the front porch and picked out his barbecued remains with a wood tooth pick and a cup of hot tea* !
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
It’s a funnel cake November
Not quite an Indian summer
But somehow this sweet air could
Turn into a hailstorm
And the church bells ring
Right as darkness falls
Usually by now them bells are gone
Here comes the killing frost
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 8:21 PM UTC
trailing like meteors
ash flicks of embers
that tumble through darkness
and no one remembers
dissolving in liquid
like powdery pigment
that forms and then fades
in less than an instant
its all spreading out
like scatter star skies
each as the other
in dark and disguise
molecular symphonies
energized masses
that circle each other
like sublimised gasses
a hailstorm of being
a meteor shower
reactive conversions
of matter and power
its all spreading out
like scatter star skies
each as the other
in dark and disguise
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 5:53 AM UTC
lately the little hailstorm
in my fingernails has
been crawling up
goosebump skin and faltering
pulse until
the
rain
is
trickling
down
my
spine
between bones and nerve
endings, my eyelashes only
know how to blink away the
shadows when there is a
heartbeat in my ears
and ink stains on my skin
i don't know how to
bleed out the rain with
pretty words anymore
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
Every hard thing that happens to a soft heart
leaves a callus
Every mean thing a heart hears leaves a ringing echo
Every stone that's thrown leaves shattered pieces
Every beating leaves a bruise
Every hailstorm it endures leaves dents
Every wreck leaves a place in need of a fix
Every tear leaves a place to sew a new stitch
Every lie it's told leaves it with a doubt
Every scream leaves it a little more deaf
Every bite leaves it starving
(for kindness)
Every tear drop makes it sink a little deeper
Every drought leaves an unquenchable thirst
Every time a heart is left starving it turns into a glutton
(for punishment)
Every heart that gets cut is left with a deeper scar than before
Every time a heart is pierced by a dagger
it puts on a little more armor
When a heart is left to bleed it
learns to apply pressure
A heart that gets shot learns to become a gangster
Every stab slices, stings, and burns
Every hit leaves a gaping hole too big to ever fill
Every time a tender heart trusts a lie
It becomes timid and learns to fly
(away)
Whenever a sweet heart gets tainted
it becomes bitter
(sour even)
When a hopeful heart's dreams don't come true
it becomes jaded
When a loving heart witnesses hate
It becomes scared with terror
When a heart gets broken it
learns to heal
But becomes misunderstood
When a heart gets cornered it rolls over
or lashes out in defense
When a heart has been used it
stops being so giving
When a heart becomes wounded
It decides to lay down or stay in the fight
When a heart is shackled and tortured
it cries out in pain
When a heart is abandoned
it becomes self sufficient as it stands in the rain
A lonely heart becomes depressed
and learns to self medicate
When a heart becomes an addict
it learns to deal
When a heart is ravaged it
looses its passion
And when love is lost within a heart
It becomes just another body part
(that can't be fixed)
© Ashley Rodden. All rights reserved
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
Ripely at 13, quickly an Internet queen
Found a boy around the same age
To swap and talk of things
Mindless banter from pitcher to batter
Such fun to see the words received
Upon the silliness, love was an illness
And the two were a couple on screen
But he became rash and rude and demanding
Forcefully aggressive and to my understanding
Required some photos of her undressed
As to which a little frightened she replied
“I guess”
For a year and a half, enslaved by a monster
No words of love just innocence slaughtered
The last picture she sent was of red bloodied arms
Without clothes on her body
Death from self inflicted harm
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 10:55 PM UTC
flaming
lightening and thunder
storming
sickeningly twisting and turning
hailstorm, hurricane in my heart
in my gut
burning
cooling down with the rain, dripping
slowly calming the flames
tears and rain, rain and tears
smoke then steam
sulfur, metal, steam
red, sulfur, flames
fire
in my soul, in my mind
red-hot, heat
purple, black, blue
ache
rain and tears, tears and rain
slowly calming the flames
waves
crashing, then receding
crashing, receding
slowly receding, drifting
away
drifting away
Jun 23, 2011
Jun 23, 2011 at 1:19 PM UTC
I can’t get the sand out of my shoes
It’s been weeks
And I’ve been hitting them
And shaking them
And knocking them around
But still
I can feel the grit with every step
So I still can’t get the beach
Or you
Off my skin
With you, there was no warning
I went from drifting languidly along in the sunshine
To being tossed against the rocks in a sudden hailstorm
Shocked and battered and lost
Disoriented in the downpour
When I’d had the promise of clear skies
I’m not sure I’ll trust the weatherman again
He’s got your eyes and voice and disarming smile
I’ve been trying to get the salt out of my ponytail
I’ve been trying to get the feel of rock out of my hands
I’ve been trying to get this ****** sand
Out of my shoes
But it’s so sticky
Everything
Is so sticky
And here I am in the biggest mess
With hair and skin and mouth
So full of you
That I don’t know how to escape
My tongue is still recoiling
From the half-truths you spilled
Tinged with sweat and cinnamon
And slime
And here I am still choking on them
Retching
Just to get rid of the taste
Gnawing at my lips
Just to break the skin that knows you
Scrubbing myself raw
Just to keep you from clinging
My ears are buzzing with your nonsense
And I am running from the noise
Bolting with everything that I have
As sand grinds against my feet
And I will be ****** and breathless before I stop
Because I need the distraction
As much as the distance
I can’t keep reliving your kisses
With every stubborn grain
I can’t keep wondering if you’re lying
Every time I turn my back
I can’t keep playing this game
Because we’ve all already lost
So I will not apologize for taking the high road out of here
And leaving you to sulk with your I-didn’t-mean-to’s
And your too-little-too-late revelations
There were a lot of ways this could have ended
But I never once imagined you would have brought storms to my doorstep
I never expected to be trying determinedly to peel my skin off
And I never thought I’d be sitting here wishing to forget your name
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
she begins to swing her hips
and flicks her bick to overload
her lips on fire with the words
her mind is a furnace comin unglued
see the images leaking out the seams
rivets slamming the walls
as the ***** busts a nut
she is full on now
aint no stopping
aint no slowin down
what are you crazy think you want her
spreadin roots in this state of mind
like unleashing a hailstorm in a paper cup
this version of the girl aint for bring home to momma
she swims out of her eyes
and bites the natural world
but she is an artwork on two fast feet
she is the cover of time pasted on a cereal box
eat that walter cronkite
any questions
his hand a tangled knot
in the handles of his life
and the he begins to bounce on his feet
as the tune rides up onstage
the crows parts to let the kid roll
they can tell this one is gonna burn the carpet
he calls out the things on his mind
the funky thing crawls down his mind
and out the dancing in his legs
heavy steps like rolling thunder
light ones like flashes of lightening
see the music speak with this
poor fools broken form bouncing
but see that ear to ear grin
that ain't painted there
its live and in person
cause this is living
when the music shakes to your soul
long into the night as the band onstage
plays through their list
plays all the favorite ones
and some for the silly little ones who think
its so cute to wear weekend Tye-dye
these two got the dance-floor sweating
these two stretching the flesh
and greeting the sky
one star at a time
people can you feel the heat
coming off her
shes gonna give birth to a lighting rod
and its gonna explode allover this dance-floor
all too soon the band is pulling out the encore
fare thee something
and her exhausted smile is filled with love
for every note she has made love to
this night
and his laugh is for the trails of mind light
that he has danced with and ran with
they wind it on down
they meet in the middle
and hold eachother
as the music finally fades
the rest of the world goes home to sleep
these two
will lay down to relive it in visions
for a lifetimes in a dream
goodnight prince of the river
goodnight princess of dreadlocks
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
Bloomed from a Rainy past.
We’re 8 years apart.
Born in entirely different centuries
Born in different seasons and on different days.
Yet we’re exactly alike.
Yet so contradictory
Our hair, our face, our expressions.
Our jobs, our mannerisms, our perspectives.
You don’t see what you’ve done to me Kristoph.
You’ve planted this seed in my head. That I should always listen to you, that what you said was true and gospel.
You nourished that seed in my head while raining down on me like a hailstorm.
You had my strings in your hands. Cherry picking what I thought and what I should know.
You make sure that seed was planted deep inside of me.
But I broke free of your storms.
I became my own flower.
So when I bloomed it wasn’t what you wanted. You tried to prune me. So I built a fence to protect myself.
You gave me the seed but I became my own garden. I flourished while you wilted. Your visions became stationary.
That’s when I realized it.
You aren’t a flower at all.
You’re a ****
And when you can’t infect one garden you move on.
So you took him.
Now it’s my job to free him of your thorns as well.
And together the two of us will
Bloom.
Feb 12, 2022
Feb 12, 2022 at 9:37 PM UTC
I watch him slowly deteriorate.
The first man I ever loved
Is being brought down,
Like a torrid helicopter
Caught in a hailstorm.
How much he must struggle
Against the current,
Only to be swept into unsightly circumstances,
Into a misfortunate gravity
He brings upon himself.
Homelessness, his vice,
And all I can do to help him
Is not worry so much
About all his suffering and whirlwind adventures
That make so little sense.
The delusions, the psychosis,
The wretched, wonderful mania,
It’s all so much for one person to contain,
And all I can do is watch
Him deteriorate
Before my eyes.
The first man I ever loved,
Fearful of none,
How terrible must be the parts of him
I cannot see
For his actions to be
So extreme.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 1:30 PM UTC
Eyes out of focus, ears echoing with a hint of reverb,
Pupils alternating on perfect loop, a period to a black hole,
Hair becomes like static, a sound that goes unnoticed ,
Fingers numb, fingertips like nubs, bitten to the core like a rotting apple,
Nerves in the kneecap relay a rhythm to freezer burnt toes,
Bouncing a heel - a nervous and impatient tick -
The words in front are smudged by internal noise, binding brain activity,
Reality renders room for a romantic razor to ready the troops,
Slicing and dicing the fruit - on the cutting board - falling seeds like a hailstorm in July,
To be stuck forever, a coma with a comma to separate answers to commence,
Answers bladed sharp and split open by the distracted mind,
An attention disorder that lives in the people,
The people take drugs, die faster, and hide away from the natural,
The unexplored realm where one can truly find a companion,
Holding hands with Caulfield, innocence is immobilized for eternity,
The shuttle returns - all words loitering become visible, feasible, and manageable once again.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
My words don’t appear like my mind visualizes,
A speech-impaired philanthropist swings inside,
Tonight, the hailstorm rides the waves,
I am not on the same page, inside.
My thoughts wander on that plane,
An unforgotten tune lingering in the rain,
Leaving this mere mortal on this plane,
How I wish I can leave this pain.
I need the cover of the Carpathian mountains,
And beyond in the realm of darkness,
Ambient sounds and the tragedy of dropping rain,
I need to leave this page, struggling madness.
Before I leave, I need to confess,
That what the heart had desired for long,
To be on a journey, with my obsessed,
I wish you were on the same page, forever after
What may come, with fire or water,
The Earth can swallow me tonight,
I perish with all that remains, written on this page.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC