I loved you with all of me and that’s all I could do in the end.

I tried everything I could to make you see my value but you closed your eyes.

So we walked away from each other.
It seemed to be easier for you, as if you weren’t fully there in the first place
While I clung, I clung like I was holding onto a frayed rope
The idea of you, the lifetime I thought we would live together, the future I believed was a reality.

I fell in love with our ideas.
The words we said together through our hot breath.
The sound of the echo of our laughs in a room.

The good times.
I held on to those memories of you even in a **** storm of bad.

For years I called out your name through that same storm
Hoping you would hear my voice and find your way back to me
Believing we would collapse into each other again and everything would be how it was, how you said for so long things would be.
But the thunder was too loud. The clouds covered your face
And the lightening struck the earth hard and severed the ground right between where we stood together.

I loved you like a child loves
Deeply
But doesn’t know how to express.
I loved you with flaws and rough edges and plenty of mistakes
But with kisses and kindness too.

I loved you with poems and songs,
Romance and gestures that were seldom reciprocated.
I felt you on what I believed was a beautifully real level, but it was one sided.
The pain that hides within you I held it and tried to learn how to best kiss it softly.
I understood your intricacies, deeply and tried to sort through the confusion of why you are the way you are. I gave you excuses but I also had expectations.
I tried to be gentle, but I wasn’t always
and for that part of me I apologize.

I am coming to the realization that
A part of me will always be in love with a part of you.
A part of me will always miss the shape of you in my bed and the weight of your hands in mine. How we would giggle like young kids, So in love with love and how you would hold me close in the night.

But I am walking away from the you I thought that you were
And realizing that you weren’t ever really that person to begin with.

I am walking on broken glass away from the idea of us
Every step hurts
But maybe there will be less pain on the other side. Someday.

I still carry the good with me in my pocket
I have to remember you like that too
To remind myself it wasn’t just you,
I was part of the problem too.
Or I won’t be able to make steps away from the same place I’ve been standing in for years.

I have been weighed down by the cinderblock in my throat for as long as I can remember,
The words that never came out
The lead in my feet
My resistance to acknowledge and heal the ugly sharp parts of myself that have cut you.

The weight of the bad
needs to be acknowledged while I hold hands with the good memories too.
that’s the hardest part..

Things were not all bad.
You were not entirely a bad person
nor was I,
There was a time when what we were was beautiful and those versions of us will live in my heart always.
We are just simply two people with
Too much.

Cockcrow harbour:
the gulls whining like tethered dogs
about rooftops
paliophobic cars and
grounded vessels..
Look:
on the hoary horizon
a glaucous strip
beguils
with backwater.
Not putting on a show
the frigid sea benumbed..
Easily,
with a tail of emerald jelly
skim a vanishing lane off that
lustrous sheet
and watch
the trailblazing mainland
scuttle.

Now,
Only scattered dreaming is possible.

In it's bachelor pad,
cradling over crinkles,
away from the meretriciosness
of validating the real by sharing it,
THE WIND
blusters off any veneer.
Here,
stale but spry,
fare your way around the inoffensive isle
to it's most shyest of harbours:
a mouth full of silver
saving it's breath.
The windows facing the sea
seem
black & white,
their wooden frames hooked to the wind,
the splattered gulls meow
your name
in a way
that's
personal.
Of course comes to mind.
The pines
are demanding a visit,
They're whispering
so you can hear them,
each as different as every snore,
these pines know
how to grow in the sand
and still reach for
the Nimbostratus with heads in unison.
The spaces
between their trunks illuminating
the blazing needles
raining down
painting the ground
familiar
to your lover's
skin texture:
Feel her closeness
from jilted borderwatchtowers
as she speads her mire
like no one's watching:
weedy and sugared
with bellflowers,
the waves in her shallow armpit
billeting a pair of white swans:
demurely they float
sometimes as pillows and sometimes
as question marks..
Go ask the seasoned locals,
they say the bones she parked
when she let her ice sheet melt
are portals
to her noble underbelly.

Hidden in the woods
reminiscent of your heart,
the red
tank-sized stone
is sealed,
but what the lighting reach cannot
the rain shall sluice apart
dumbly.
And though her hair has
come to be
the moss
black and hoarse
as sailor's beard,
there is still time.
The void says
her noisy neighbour is nothing
to die for.
The theadbear car with absent doors
incites
to drive her
in reverse gear
to the first few
days of holidays:
her golden locks a-blaze,
her arm around your
hind-sighted doppelganger.

Layered ripples
Of nomadic shades
Drifting across the sky
Stirs daydreams.
Vivid thoughts of you
Create tangible imaginings
Of my hands upon your face
Caressing your cheeks
Trailing fingertips
Between mounds erupting on your skin
You shiver at the pleasures of my touch
Smiling at me in satisfaction
With the ease of dawn,
Reaching corners
With brighten sunrays,
Beaming in my direction.
I've longed to be held
In the embrace of your gaze
Seen only by you
When the world surrenders existence
Remaining yours in this instance
Until layered ripples
Turn from white to grey
And memories of tomorrow
Wash away.

Foggy weather blues
Allergies cause me to sneeze
Dead leaves and damp grass

Clouds, Clouds, Clouds, Clouds
Calculated Clouds
Interesting Idioms
Physical Phenomena
Spiritual Symbolisms

Cloud seven
Completely happy, perfectly satisfied, wholly euphoric
Cloud eight
Befuddled by drinking too much liquor
Cloud nine
Jumping for joy; walking on air

Have one’s head in the clouds
To be out of touch with reality
Every cloud has a silver lining
Difficult times always lead to better days
He must be under a cloud
People have an unfavourable opinion of him
There’s a cloud on the horizon
An omen threatening to happen in time
To live in cloud-cuckoo land
Believing those truly impossible things will happen

High-Level Clouds
Cirrus and Cirrostratus
Mid-Level Clouds
Altocumulus and Altostratus
Low-Level Clouds
Nimbostratus and Stratocumulus
Vertical Development Clouds
Cumulus and Cumulonimbus
Other Cloud Types
Contrails and Billows
Mammatus and Orographic
And Pileus

An arc in the clouds represents God’s promises
A pillar of cloud symbolised the Lord’s guidance
Do you understand the balancing of the clouds?
He that considers the clouds shall not reap
In OT times, the cloud filled the temple
Jesus Christ will return on clouds of victory

And a personal one
Black clouds one afternoon covered the Salève
Hiding a most beautiful rainbow
And despite the clouds’ efforts to confuse
His promises are forever true

Which cloud are you under?

It's raining every day
The skies used to be so clear
Beautiful in every way
Now they're clouded with fear

I fell short of matching all of the stars in space with the raindrops that made its way to Earth
Instead, I matched the stars in your eyes with the old pain's last breath and otherworldly love's first
The clouds have opened back up for business, booming thunder and zooming lightning
Somewhere there, the flash of your smile
The beat of your heart
The coolness of your waters that quench my thirst for you

It's natural to look at nature au naturale
Like Italians and Nigerians talking with hands as expressive as Deaf lovers relay romantic verses
Clear, nimble fingers that massage my soul within the cumulonimbus and nimbostratus
Fueling, flooding, fostering the gods' apparatus


You
The final form of unfinished paintings
Give birth to worthwhile wishful thinking
On my mind like taxes and teacher's lesson plans
A soft brush adjusting to the sky's new hues kissed like ones we've missed or knew
A masterpiece in pieces of Vishnu's vision for when he returns to look for Lakshmi
Hopefully time will not be Shiva to end this for me

How does it feel to be adored by Indra, when showers descend and drench the deepest ditches to force creation of drawbridges for those dire to cross your path again?

- Ifeanyi N. Okoro II © 2021

Nimbostratus clouds overcast
Overcast tears
Crying, crying all day, all night
Sad girl
Bad girl
Dead to the world
Done with death itself

Staring into the blue and black sky
Reminds me of my stained skin
Reminds me of the palette I use to paint
Nothing is the same
Nothing is getting better
Staring staring staring

Digital phone calls
In real life conversations
**** Bill Volume Two
Better than my life

So I sit in the parlor
Eat my skin
Dance in the rain outside
Let my body bleed
Let the rain poison my blood
My heart will **** me anyway

Watch it all play out
None of this is really true
It's all inside my head
It's all just make believe

Because you see
I'm sick
I'm really sick
I have been since the day
Mom pushed me out
I've got daydream fever
And this world is not my own

I love you
I wouldn't hold back the only undeniable thought I would speak to you
even when we will return to dust one day
even if the nimbostratus swallow the sky
even if the ocean leave the tides
I cross my heart
in you i see infinite celestial-ity
And for that -
I loved you

Love is in the tears that clouds cry from time to time, soaked up by the earth, who then grows green vines, and from those vines, food to help us survive, so drink it all in since it is sublime
and be thankful for the clouds that cry for you, as they pass by, from time to time

the lava-blended departure of the sun is not metaphysics,
but a pinpoint target into human hearts,
both empirical and whimsical,
both light out of my ultraviolet perspective and the asphalt hurricanes of my cortex

~


bursting to the window,
it BUCKLED.

she battled the nimbostratus with 7.4 billion souls on her solar-flaring side;

I sat idly by, desperately attempting to cool my tea and fight the demons on my shoulder.
The battle was a chainsaw pitted against a watermelon,
a senseless,
lopsided conflict.

(is the deck stacked or
are my shoulders only temporarily
disfigured?)

despite cinder block extremities,
my skin is still more mesh than concrete;
these summer nights were meant for picket signs
and bare feet.

as to perceive image without light,
I swam against a salty, magnificent current.

We are clouds
individual
and collective by nature
changeless-ever-changing
drifting into our eyes
and across our minds

We cannot live in
photos or paintings
inspiring but hanging
dormant like billboards
and traffic signs

Dark clouds awaken
when angry
fire and fury
torrents of rain
hail damaging

Then Zephyr comes
to appease their anger
    ~god’s of the sky~
peace treaties pending

She often drifts in like
an angel
ahead of a storm front
thunder and lightning her silhouette
bringing in less
threatening clouds to
comfort us when storms
leave us angry cold and wet

At times even darker
clouds hang ominously
and high winds are surely threatening war
then out the blue
allies flank our enemy
blowing away
the fiery vaporous Thor

We float into wintertime
into its storyline
Drifting in and out of space
and time through seasons
of wind hail rain or shine
(essence of
our connected
and interconnected minds)

Billowing Cumulonimbus
Dark Nimbostratus
Thin Sirius basking in sunshine
Shapeless grey clouds of snow
Cold drizzle reigns

Funnel clouds
cyclone
monsoon
hurricane
typhoon
bursting through
atmospheric membranes

We can be moody
boasting large volumes
but revealing far-less mass

Passively aggressive
boasting less volume
but revealing a lot of mass

We are clouds
changeless-ever-changing
drifting into our eyes
and across our minds.

When all the reigns pass
clouds of darkness no longer cast
ray of sun freedom
'
                               Kelly McManus

Since returning from Provence,
I see the Nimbostratus of our
Irish skies, as a metaphor for
state sponsored loft insulation.

It looks *****, it's always there
and one wonders if it serves any
purpose other than preventing
light through tiles into the attic.

O my soul! How filled to the brim you are,
After ages of drought and sorrow.
You are, my dear, like a cloud, nimbostratus,
Who flies over sand, ocean, and clay.
You are but human; we cry salty tears
And your heartstrings absorb their ocean spray,
taking up their laughter, acid rain and
You billow up into the stratosphere;
O my soul- you can feel the warm sun!

In drought, you were stranded- cold and alone,
Your winds and precipitation, frozen.
Desperate hands could not even reach the sun.
O but feel! Now you're full of life and rain!
The wind! How it rushes! Your love! It pours!
Precious red drops overflow from your core.
With you, I watch as the world is colored with our love.
And I hope never to touch the ground again.

her roots, holding on
to the last bit of brown soil.
the storm likely to not subside
and the sun, covered by nimbostratus.
its peony blossoms slowly withering,
leaves turned half brown.

oh, for how long more
can she pull through?

My eyes are clear
Opening my lash-eyelet curtain
A near-perceptible glacier-clean,
--thud-crack of thick ice
Forming two, perfect, transparent, oval shards
Convex bevel edges
Satisfying symmetry.

My brain is quiet
Waiting for the roaring, train engine, kettle-boiling,
punctuated by slight, syncopated,
tap-taps that,
-- so kindly, remind me, my mind be, relying
-- on pulsing blood
Still roarless
Still, roarless
Spline-smoothed
Blood journeys gently, cloud-style
Not muddling, befuddling, nimbostratus
Just happy little cumulus
Soft. Nice.

My shoulders are low
Cage only soundtrack here
Absence of intended sounds
Only the astral smooth void
Flawless, measured, even space
My ears can kiss my shoulders if I feel like it
--but I don’t feel like it
Comfortable.

My breath is even
Jaws are open pliers
Thoughts are photos in ice and midnight blue
-- no rue umber or regret beige
Muscles are liquid-warm wax
Palms are oasis-free deserts
Pupils are obsidian-shined globes
Skin made of moonlight
Heart matching the beat of the universe

I have returned
Back inside myself
I am here.

camping with
the dog
i sit out
eating breakfast
in the early
morning light
a faint whispering
of elements
crosses the field
a gentle touch
at the back of
my neck
before i notice
the slightest
      softest
of drizzles;
a dampened dappling
of pages
the slightest rippling
on the surface
of my morning tea
looking up
the wisps
of cloud
overhead
remain bright
and airy
but a dark horizon
promises brevity
to this

perhaps
that charcoal smudge
of nimbostratus
passed by
during the night
they didn't forecast
any rain
until tomorrow
after all
i am content
ignoring
   the warning signs
enjoying
the dog's snore
the flutter of tent
the dance
of grass
of insect
and of bird
and continuing
without change
while the dog
sleeps
at my side

I had heard the foghorn of my loneliness;
And heard it again, as its whisper of an echo bounced off the wall behind me

I had grown so skillful,
An artist in giving small things around me mouths to speak, and eyelids to blink, languidly...
Keeping company with puzzles and rain puddles,
And giving each piece a sensible place in our misshapen realm

Trying to place the puddles,
I observed the feminine qualities of the gentle dips in the landscape,
One being their proclivity for mollifying such a tumultuous force as weather

I watched as the many depressions of the earth wept,
The looming Nimbostratus filling them wholly, the downpour continuous;
And found it fitting to think that each puddle held its place as a notable fragment in the jigsaw of a swamp that was beginning to form in my backyard.

In that moment, I suppose it was my place to be forming a thought about that swamp
And how I could compare it, in all its watery pieces, to something else in some poetic way.
Word by word,
Carefully,
So I could write it down on paper later.

a windows empathy
     is evident when
nimbostratus weeps

On the wings of daylight and
  flawed barren scars across
Dive constantly divine symbiosis
  clawing at creeks' festoons of moss
I brought shoals jovial and unkind impossible
Lately autumn bracken with convivial casual
Stalked by medieval windrose
dabbles mists of loss
Near empathy arced hilly paths
thoughts turn and toss
Friended butterfly scolded
by idols live oak songs
Remiss tales of truth pressure weather
  tansy and feverfew of rights and wrongs
When you were 17 doormat the walkaround
  bundle feathers mad imprints
Enjoying wide skies of rain
and defined roofs nimbostratus
  cleave interests hope's tints
A book so power races
a towne and life grand
senseless piqued sunsets
Forgotten addled adjutants
electrified air resumes
our trounced earthen regrets
Definitive cold wide sheets of
  scripted ease un paused scratch
Cackle craft and concur
times night savings reach past
the peace endure and abruptly
is the approach of winters match

when the floodlights hit my body,
i hope it dazzles clearly
for i am scared i’ll disappear in a crowd
and the beam of light won’t notice me.
although i’m frantically waving my arms
𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦
with those eyes that make the moon seem small
that make the sun lose some of its glory.

and once the day will bring forth no light
and we will have to forge some ourselves.
your arms will be the anchors
holding Earth still
and i’ll lasso the sun two times around
and coax it out of the nimbostratus clouds
𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦
it whimpers.

when we walk in alleyways with no streetlights,
i hope you hold my jacket sleeve or my hand in the cold chill of the sudden change in temperature.
i pray that you’ll still watch me
so strangers walking with the darkness
don’t steal me away
and make a jail cell out of my heart
leaving the prisoners it detained pacing and awake.
i hope the streetlight shines or your heart bursts into the fire of one thousand suns
just
promise me you’ll
𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦