I have known that the sun can hear thunder
and how its brightness
can be unfathomable,
like my dreams.
Since the beginning of my pulse
I have been honored
with good days
that left me grateful
inside of the sweetness
never stifling.........
within all it means.

When midnight kisses the glass
that morning has already
tasted......
Like a thirsty spider
crying out........
for the rain.
All of my senses are
swept through
knowing, my words don't fall
on deaf ears......
or stand there,
all wasted.

No, you cannot know how I'm feeling
but that doesn't mean
our world's stopped spinning.
The sun.......
can still hear thunder
in all the ways you love me.
You lift me up
in the midst of a storm.
All my senses are swept through
my words stand in stillness
a storm's ending......
is love's beginning.
Copyright 2012 - Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
Erica M Corley Sep 2015
Obedience,
ECHOING LOUD,
In the hallway,
Of decisions

It's THUMPING,
Like war drums,
In your canals

But, can you HEAR it?
So that you will hear me
my words
sometimes grow thin
as the tracks of the gulls on the beaches.

Necklace, drunken bell
for your hands smooth as grapes.

And I watch my words from a long way off.
They are more yours than mine.
They climb on my old suffering like ivy.

It climbs the same way on damp walls.
You are to blame for this cruel sport.
They are fleeing from my dark lair.
You fill everything, you fill everything.

Before you they peopled the solitude that you occupy,
and they are more used to my sadness than you are.

Now I want them to say what I want to say to you
to make you hear as I want you to hear me.

The wind of anguish still hauls on them as usual.
Sometimes hurricanes of dreams still knock them over.
You listen to other voices in my painful voice.

Lament of old mouths, blood of old supplications.
Love me, companion. Don't forsake me. Follow me.
Follow me, companion, on this wave of anguish.

But my words become stained with your love.
You occupy everything, you occupy everything.

I am making them into an endless necklace
for your white hands, smooth as grapes.
I'm screaming
I'm wailing
I'm crying
But you don't hear
I'm begging
I'm sobbing
I'm dying
But you don't hear

You're laughing
You're making fun
You're sneering
Of course I hear
You're shoving
You're tugging
You're jeering
Of course I hear

So deaf are you,
So much I hear
How much has changed
In just one year?
Francie Lynch Apr 2016
The news arrived
Of the new arrival.
We grant him
All the Rights,
Privileges,
And Responsibilities
Accorded to
A son, brother,
And grandson.
May his endowment
Of love and honour
Stand him in good stead.
Always good news.
Jude M Salazar Nov 2014
The dying flower
Wilting, rotting, crumbling
No one hears you fall
RW Dennen Sep 2014
Imperialistic meddlers,
men of power greed and wealth
Western Imperialism
not too long ago
was once put on the shelf
Not too long ago
this name was never heard
Its name is New Order of DiSoRdEr
But still us folk of sanity
with eyes wide open
we see their compliance
lock-step herd vanity

In White House spin gone amuck
they throw their bolts of anger
to all countries on the globe
And with more and more displeasure
we witness their destructiveness
from sea to shining sea

But now I hear, see and feel
a distant faint rumbling the rising Valorous
the rumbling stampeding of democracy
by the forceful rightful anger,
the free-spirited valiant word
a word of truth and dignity,
the echo of today,
and aaah yes
to hear the thundering of the mass
To hear the thundering of the mass...
This short reading of mine protesting for freedom for Haiti- with Haitian dignitaries- was presented in Philadelphia at City Hall
on the western front facing traffic and straight ahead was Market Street heading west. The year was 2005
Arna Banana Mar 2013
Loud minds in the silent chapel,
Echoes of desperate prayers.

Hope settled in their seeing eyes.
Words that their ears, caught not.
You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms. The rim
Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson,
And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.

That day in Moscow, it will all come true,
when, for the last time, I take my leave,
And hasten to the heights that I have longed for,
Leaving my shadow still to be with you.
Phoolmatee Dubay Dec 2014
dipping, soaring. swerving
with sounds of their symphony
which they could only know
I hear, I listen
I see, I believe
with so few words to say
I wish I could say more
Sam Po Aug 2014
tears cascades
on her cheeks
dampens her wounded heart
She cried
#crying #wounded
ryn Nov 2015
Hear ye!
Hear ye!
Oh how I love concrete poetry!
Itching to write and sculpt and mould.
Twiddle my thumbs as I thought to myself silently.
Reckon I'd render my musings in italics and in bold!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!
30 days of concrete, wouldn't you fancy?!
These poems, they come in various shapes.
Would you consider them "poetic eye candy"?
If I fashioned poems to look like grapes!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!
Awashed with excitement!
I can't wait to share!
Fantastical, delicious and ultimately succulent!
A wonderful spread of such wordy fare!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!*
When is this... GREAT BIG AFFAIR?
On the morrow, I'll dish out the first serving!
Do tune in if you so do care...
30 days of concrete! The shape fest is beginning!
Greetings! I will be posting a concrete poem each day for the next 30 days. It's a huge undertaking and I'm really pumped up about it! Stay tuned... :)
.
Frustrated Poet Sep 2014
you're too busy targeting the next spot
you'll bury that knife
pierced not into my back
but in my heart

what we have is real and we're genuinely happy
and it's rare to find in this world that's shitty
so stop meddling with ours
it wont do you any better
i hope you'll find yours
but you're clouded and bitter
stop being so damn judgmental. we're human too.
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