"windstorm" poems
people seem to move their lips
but
nothing
ever
comes out.
well, that's not exactly true.
words escape
like dead leaves
in a windstorm
but like leaves
they
flutter
and flurry
useless things.
a pretty painted kissable lip
tempts
no one
when the words it drops like bombs
explode
killing
the life
it
envied
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
i am a feather
weathering a windstorm
fragility is my definition
please
remember that
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
What exactly does closure feel like?
I'm not really sure because
the days I felt my first heartache
like a bullet to my chest
I cried for a week straight then got over it-
I had so many friends, I never cared to love again.
I was never really sure how to close the open door
the day my grandma died my mind went blank.
So I drank away the pain until the images
of her cancer ridden body faded away.
How do you cope when at the same time
you see your grandmother die
you remember these horrors
from your childhood of someone ripping away
your innocence.
I haven't been the same since.
So now what's left?
I have left the one I love
with a heavy heart
and no closure to console me.
I just feel as if I am drifting
slowly and without a lifeboat
no paddle in merky waters
with a windstorm that won't quit.
But I feel at peace
like the calm before the storm
that realizes it will be sunny one day again soon.
So how will closure console this empty soul?
I've never really felt that feeling before.
Closure is a ******* step child to me-
just an extra sock that can't find a match.
A newly lit match burning out too fast
never to be used again.
A bowl filled with resin
when all you need is one ******* hit.
Closure is a seesaw with no one at the other end to help-
you're on your own adventure
and you only venture from the usual path.
It's a road you walk alone-
barefoot upon rocks that have been shaped from struggle.
Closure is the progression into solitude.
So how do I get closure from you?
How do these hands feel okay again
not holding on to yours-
how does my bed feel whole again
without you next to me.
I'm not sure quite yet-
but one day I will see.
Closure is an empty room
before a dance recital
it's a preconcert soundcheck
and everyday anxiety.
The nights are worse than the days
and I've come to grips with feeling this way.
I hope one day to feel okay.
I know one day I will feel okay-
because today, I feel pretty okay.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
You are the cold silent breeze
I am the wild windstorm
You are the gentle humming of the leaves
I am the startling blare of thunder
You are the first ray of sunshine after a downpour
I am the piercing lightning
You are the fleeting floating clouds of cotton
I am the cumulonimbus cloud brewing a monsoon
You are the smell before and after the rain
You are the calm before and after the storm
I am the chaos in between
Enclosing me in your peaceful clasp
Embrace me
Tighter
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
Drifting like a feather in the wind,
Being carried here and there,
In love's windstorm, around I'm spun,
Just a prisoner of the air
Floating and tumbling in turbulence,
Once more being turned around,
At any time expecting love
To cruelly dash me to the ground
Dancing like a feather in the wind
With no solid ground to tread;
While floating over restless waves,
It's the cross current that I dread
A feather.... just floating.... in the wind,
How I fear the hurricane!
The raging winds of love's deceit
That would see my hopes and dreams slain
Twisting and turning, out of control,
Surrender the sole recourse;
Let the winds of love have their way,
Blustering with their awesome force!
Just a feather carried by the wind,
Sanity becomes a blur;
I rise, then I fall helplessly
While begging the wind not to stir!
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 12:58 PM UTC
O, mosaic of my oft marveled at Mosie
You fade away as swift as the windstorm enters
Mosaic, I've built you up in my mind's cubbies
And you permeate through my brain's centers
Every experience boiled itself into me
Constructing a picture of you that I could see
Which I could consult when I reached difficulty
Or whose answer I could envision in monotony
O, Mosaic, you quickly go, as hurt intrudes
The pain pervades all points of space
It destroys you and ceaselessly protrudes
Gone are the days when I'd see your face and caress it
Gone are the prayers we'd hold up our relationship and bless it
And now gone is your magnificent mosaic
Even though it pains me just to say it
O, Healing, come faster than your predecessor
May you permeate the place we made and become its successor
And, God, can You be real and continue to bless her?
As your mosaic fades away
Dreams of tomorrow thus can't stay
As your mosaic breathes its last breath
Let us exhale that last sigh
The one we always talked about before our death
This time, drifting further and farther apart
This time, holding our aching and breaking hearts
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 10:48 AM UTC
Half asleep on my walk to the bus stop,
The Texada clear-cut smiles like the gap-tooth of the Georgia Strait
and the 3 pops of melatonin ingested 11 hours ago still have me waning on the down-low like a somewhat solid ghost in a Labrador windstorm.
I send you paragraphs
And all of my heartbreaks make me worried I've finally scared you off
But logic trusts itself to you and says, 'Cabo San Lucas, tantrastic,'
I'm no stoic. Otherwise this poem would still be sleeping in alphabet.
It's only the middle of the week but it feels like it's been a month,
At least
At little
The weather is Hyde again,
But as of right now I don't really mind
I just wish you had sunk into my chest last night as we slept together,
Finding our mind within its memory foam,
I dreamed of you and wondered
If Mexico really existed.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
This oak tree
Stands so tall,
It’s so thick, it can stand against
Any windstorm, at any day
Wind is all that comes out your mouth
I’ve got nothing on you
Nor do you on me.
If you claim me, keep me.
If you don’t, set me free.
This oak tree
Moves with grace.
It moves and sways to the breeze.
Its branches, arms in the air,
Move to the sound of hallelujah
I’ve got nothing on you
Nor do you on me.
If you claim me, keep me.
If you don’t, set me free.
& you just keep breaking me.
I just wish your love was stable,
& I wish your love was free.
Cut the oak tree down
So fast &hard; that others hear.
A million could.
If you’re going to build a cabin,
At least have a foundation,
Or just turn me into firewood.
& burn it like our bridges.
But this oak tree
Doesn’t say much,
It doesn’t say anything at all
It has nothing to say to you
I’ve got nothing on you
Nor do you on me.
If you claim me, keep me.
If you don’t let me be free.
Let me be me.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 1:15 AM UTC
Het Poema moved through the snow
Fierce like a great windstorm
Hiding from the barbaric hunter
Fatal like a shotgun
Moving swiftly as the ocean
On a stormy night
But Het Poema is quick
And the hunter is lunch
His weapon left in the cold winter snow
And his blood
To be unnoticed
For an eternity
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
I see blue sky.
I see the most perfect clouds.
I see birds chirping
I glance towards your eyes again to get another glimpse of the heavens but you’ve already walked away.
Your hair swaying as you walk like trees in a windstorm. My breath pushing them since you took my breath when you took away my loveless mind and replaced my breath with jealousy and temptation to talk to you when I don’t have the ***** to say hello.
Your smile brings tears to the glass eyes you had me get from the first time I sacrificed my sight to lay my eyes on you. Your mind like lava, burning everything in its path but slows down just enough to let you slip past without harm but wrecks everything else you care about.
Your perfume brings scent to my nostrils that I never want to forget. I can’t even describe it but I know that it’s you whenever I can smell it.
Your laugh is enough to bring Zeus down from the heavens just to witness how cute you are. You hate your laugh, you really do. But when I hear your laugh I can’t help but smile because even your flaws are perfect and draw me back.
I see the ocean.
I see the white caps splashing down over my mind and pulling me through the tide.
Not a life guard in sight but I know there is hope somewhere in your eyes.
I don’t think you’re real but you’re too tan to be a roman statue.
Your heartbeat would shatter the marble instantly,
But could cut diamonds with a single beat.
I gain my breath back as you lie down to sleep.
I gain my conscience back when you close your eyes.
I listen for the ocean I see whenever I see your eyes
But all I hear is the silence of my heart beating to see you again.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
Red Leaves moving by the river
Red leaves blowing in the breeze
Billowing in dusty circles
Settling down just how they please.
Red leaves falling from the maple
Falling down like scarlet rain
Painting Autumn tones for lovers
Making way for winter’s pain.
Feel the crispness of the evening
Watch the ***** frost gather there
Crunching through night’s frozen pasture
Billowed breath in morning’s air.
Running down the road in gum boots
Kicking up the piles of leaves
Making waterfalls of redness
Tensions flee and worries ease.
How I love the feel of Autumn
Stillness in the afternoon
Watching long clouds rich in grandeur
Golden sunset, crescent moon.
Winter comes with gales and thunder
Lightning flashes in the trees
Red leaves flailing in the windstorm
Graceful Autumn bows ....and flees.
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
30th May 2008
Nov 15, 2009
Nov 15, 2009 at 8:50 PM UTC
*A grain of sand,
Once part of a desert dune,
Taken away by a windstorm,
Parted too soon
Regal was the life,
In the dune where I was born,
Unearthed now,
From my existence torn
A wandering gypsy,
I'm one with the wind,
From all my attachments,
Unhinged, unhinged*
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 5:59 AM UTC
11/24/2013
I am not
a girl
and I am not
a boy
I am a
storm,
a hurricane,
a tornado,
an earthquake
and
under my skin,
there is a
universe
with millions of
stars,
and planets,
and emotions,
and chemicals,
and scars
I am not
a girl
and I am not
a boy
there is a
windstorm
in my heart,
and in my head,
and in my bones,
and in my blood
and there are
galaxies
throughout my cells,
and throughout my skin
I am not
a girl
and I am not
a boy
I am far more
than that
© 2013 Scarlet Van Allen
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
For my 2016 writing project, I’ve decided to write a single line of poetry every day for an entire year. Below, is November’s poem. Enjoy!
Thirty-three years old.
A brother lost.
A father fighting on.
A mother standing tall.
I feel brave.
Only death can defeat me.
It nearly did.
Still, I stand.
We all do.
We are like trees in a windstorm.
Life discounts me.
That is its mistake.
We've been to the brink.
We've stared over the cliff.
Edges are nothing to be feared.
Life defined in two parts.
My own personal B.C. and A.D.
Before destroys me.
The next is mine.
With bated breath.
I turn the page.
I begin writing a new chapter.
Much will be said of this time.
It is my beacon of hope.
These hours are mine.
Numbers on a wall,
Each with a purpose.
Let's use this story.
Let's save a soul.
November 3rd can change things.
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 5:34 PM UTC
july 16 2011
the air stuck to my skin,
clinging for life,
grasping for adhesion.
the cool, night air making minuscule mountains rise all across my arms.
we were far from alone,
yet all i could possibly be aware of was you.
feeling my head roll back onto the tweed, orange sofa, i looked up through the roof windows of the teepee.
i began to count and trace the stars,
only to steady my rapid heartbeat and abrupt breathing.
the breeze picks up and suddenly penetrates deep into my core,
sending out waves of shudders throughout my entire body.
shaking like a dandelion in a windstorm, you invite me closer and closer,
you can see the look of hesitation in my eye,
you understand it;
you feel it too.
ignoring your instincts, you envelop my frigid torso in your warm, big arms.
finally settling in, the others begin to disperse,
one by one,
until only we remained.
the beauty of this mid-july night was apparent,
and, all tucked away,
we laid there for hours
listening
intently
to the bullfrogs, to the crickets,
to the sound of the waves from the small lake kissing the shore, to the cool breeze mingling with the sweet warm summer air.
the morning crept along and we pulled each other
in and out
of the haze we created.
in the morning, it was cold again,
but i got only your jacket and a hushed
"don't tell".
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
there's no progress report for this.
no checklist, no itinerary,
no template to restore order
in the aftermath of your tornado path through my heart.
the chaos is powerful and uncontrollable;
i can only watch the person i was with you crumble away
and sweep up the dust.
sometimes i take inventory:
am i eighty-five percent guilt today,
or thirty-nine percent confusion?
or fifty-four percent loss,
or one hundred percent ache,
hot salt water springs bubbling up
from just a brush with the magma burning below the surface?
dust is beginning to settle on the box of our memories that i hid away, where the twister would never touch it.
if only there was some way to give time through an IV,
because i don't know what to do with this heart-shaped stone in my chest.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
I am a leviathan
I love like a shipwreck.
I am warm darkness
in the belly of the beast.
I'll swallow you whole.
I am envy,
I love like a sea monster.
I am calm and terror,
the rusted anchor
at the pit of a drowning
man's stomach. I am
salt water, flooding your lungs.
I am years of tempest
and unending rain,
I am an oil spill on black ocean.
I am windstorm; I smother, I take,
I love like a death sentence.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
When the rain is cold and pelting
When the windstorm shreds the trees
Do you find your courage wanting?
Is there weakness in the knees?
Have you faced the dark intruder?
Have you stared that challenge down?
Have you summoned forth the fortitude,
To keep humiliation gowned?
Camouflaged the leaden spinelessness,
That dreaded empty space,
Where once there was a warrior
Who wore courage on his face.
Felt the thrashing of the current
As the waves come pounding in,
Inexorably it lacerates
And tears the fair white skin.
The brutality of bedrock,
The blackness of the night,
And the fear that runs like mercury
Through the torment and the fright.
The uselessness of effort,
The lassitude of limb,
It’s the cramping ague of gutlessness
That is consuming him.
Dissipating storm clouds
The skies begin to clear
And with it go emergencies
And with it goes the fear.
Residually it lingers
As a gnawing hollow blend
Of anxious blue inadequacies,
Of unsubstantiated end
To performance under duress,
Compared to that which is the norm,
It’s just a blinding lack of courage
Whilst in the torment of the storm.
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
24 November 2008
Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 10:00 AM UTC
In the middle of M.G road
Gandhi's statue stands.
Built in 1947 with help
of concrete and sands.
Battered by scorching sun,
rain and windstorm.
But still managing to
stay ***** high on platform.
How similar is statue's
narration to theirs.
Now statue will not stand any
storms, it is the fears.
Met* department has alerted
wind will move 90 knots.
Many are calm but many are
involved in inveterate fusspots.
Two identities but still
similar story similar tale.
They were born in storms but
will the statue survive this gale.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
So windy outside,
it feels like this house is a boat,
sea sick feeling queazy a bit,
dizzy from the commotion of being afloat,
she loves me,
she loves me not,
if you even have to ask you already know the answer,
it’s exactly what you thought,
what’s it going to be,
choose your own adventure,
use get used win lose,
game over add another quarter,
see it feels like Time stopped,
went to sleep a young child woke up an old man,
it’s got me saying things like “When I was a kid,
we’d go down to the arcade and play video games.”,
who’s world is this anyways,
and why do I feel like this is all a dream,
I suppose I loved her because she made me feel this dream was real,
but I guess this as in us wasn’t as real as it first seemed,
I’m bursting,
at the seams,
taking the glory of this torment,
and displaying it on the screen,
so I’m back writing again,
it was either that or emotional suicide,
swear to God it’s easier to not feel at all,
than to have all these emotions bottled up inside,
see if ignorance is bliss,
and genius it torture,
than being Emotionless,
is better than being a Hopeless Lover,
still searching for something that doesn’t exist,
like a Conspiracist searching for the Loch Ness Monster,
swear it’s a curse to not live every moment as a blessing,
because there is still only now there is no happily ever after,
there is only now,
that’s how it’s always been and will be,
and right now I’m alone in this vessel that feels like a sailboat,
caught in a windstorm lost out at sea,
so windy outside,
it feels like this house is a boat,
sea sick feeling queazy a bit,
dizzy from the commotion of being afloat…
∆ LaLux ∆
Friday The 13th, April 2018
Read/Download the newest book for free here: www.scribd.com/document/367036005
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 8:29 PM UTC
i close my eyes and feel the world
move below me
constants are shifting and
i know nothing of truth.
absolved of value as i thought
i was, i see now
mother earth had spoke lies through her beautifully crooked
teeth
when i shout your name to the wind i am whole,
though my cries fall on deaf ears.
a whisper in the windstorm was never quite enough.
i feel your heartbeat states away,
i feel your presence in the place that
i close my eyes and dreams happen while the world
moves below me.
i reach out for the touch of you
but i am empty handed.
empty hand but a heavy heart,
i know now that the blood and burdens
inside you are the blood and burdens inside
someone i love, and whose very blood
and burdens, i love also.
jjs
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
The wind is blowing
Waltzing through the green treetops
And crying loudly
~Marian~
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
*i have recently fallen ill
and i don't know if it is because he left
or because the weather keeps changing
all i know is that my body aches for anything
but these white pills and nasal spray
it's like a windstorm that's so strong you keep falling over
or maybe lightning hitting you right in the chest
or it's like that time he left and you couldn't sleep on your back
because you could see his side of the bed
i don't quite care that i've eaten
every single type of soup the world has to offer
or that i could cook you a million different dishes
because i've watched the cooking channel
for 5 days straight
the only way i think this illness would go away
is if you came back
and held me as i drank my tea with honey
and coughed my brains out
i wish you would rub my back
as i complained about being cold
or being fatigued
i just wish you'd come back*
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
Leaves.
Inside out.
Living things
Buffeted by the unseen.
Wrecked into action
As if awoken violently from a still sleep.
The howling
And merciless,
Unending,
Exhalation from Heaven!
Not a creature is stirring
But for birds
Adjusting their navigation gear
After too many near misses.
"There's snow in the forecast"
And we will be stronger to face it
Because of today.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC