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As the sun slowly sets
The precursor to the week
With deadlines,
                            Orders,
                            ­               Oh so bleak
The calm before the storm
  Too restless to enjoy
For everybody knows
     It's sundays melancholy ploy

    Responsibilities loom overhead
     Our heart as heavy as the air
      The world has now gone silent
              We sit in subtle fear
Driving up mountain miles
of washboard switchbacks;
jarring the dusty rearview mirror
in my mind:

"but don't look back in anger"  
... I heard you say
stuck in the cloud of dust
befogging my daydream
back somewhere thereabouts
the washed out bridge
that tore us apart
like a flash flood

It was so long ago
since you were running
and I was hiding in plain sight,
from what the storm
in my eyes did tell

Mindful — you were only watching
the growing distance gather;

finding what you didn't lose
looking back to see
   what you can't forget —

like a hesitant child
reluctantly wondering
if anyone was still looking back
at you ―  still running away
from each passing storm


Jesse Stillwater
June   2018
Thank you for reading my soul scribbles
Tom Spencer Jul 9
white clouds swell up
anvil bloom

a lowering gloom
scuds by

stacatto drops
on the windshield

punctuate  
powerline sway

radio crackle
sparks

sheets of tenor sax
and blunt

gusts of cool
I lower the window

and steer
into the storm


Tom Spencer © 2018
Cné Apr 2017
eyes of ocean blue
grayed by darken skies cry rain
drown in flooding waves
a storm of sad thoughts
Britney Lyn Nov 2017
You were a storm on my heart.
Your gusts of wind took me aback with each breath you let go,
Your words like thunder pounded at my barriers until you came flooding in.
You shattered the windows, tore down my walls and left me with nothing.
Nothing but you and your shallow waters.
LexiSully Jan 2016
I'm lost in the never ending pit of my own confusion
Swaying left to right
Held up only by the wind blowing me to and fro

If only my feelings could make their opinion known,
But they long to remain hidden among the whispers of the swirling breeze

I attempt to stand
Only to be knocked back to the dust
Which leaves me dizzy and disoriented

If only the whirling tempest would cease to throw its fiery darts,
But they fail to notice me calling for a ceasefire

So I am left, lost and astray, on the cold ground,
While the gusts continue to becloud the world around me.
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