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kate May 21
I am a resilient seed in the eye of the hurricane.
Once the storm calms, I will bloom and nothing can uproot me.
I don't care if every other plant is wiped out.
I don't care if I am the last one standing.
I refuse to care anymore.
You failed as my haven.
Dom May 21
Every wail of wind
Is a mournful dirge
Carrying off through the distance
Where tenebrous finger like branches sway,
And the moist air feels like a tearful eye.

The pale light won’t shine,
She hides her face in a cacophony of smoke and mirrors,
A majesty so shy she turns her back
As the wolves cry for her in loving sonnets.

Deeper is the black that darks the skies,
As veins of electric light quickly strobe the clouds,
There’s a crack of a cackling giant,
And the tears fall from angels,
As a strident breeze breathes across the landscape
As the trees mosh in syncopated patterns—
I calmly wait in the midst of storms.
Who doesn’t love a thunderstorm, even if it’s internally?
alex May 20
I’m bored now.
I don’t want the calm before the storm
I want the storm,
right now.

break me,
burn me,
do whatever,
I’m ready.
I crave the storm that makes me feel alive again
I don’t know if you ever listened to the sky

when it gets hungry.

It growls.
It rumbles.
Even roams.

It sits in the dark,
contemplating what it wants.

Then,

Boom.

Thunder hits
without warning.

At some point,
we've all been there
hungry, with no idea
what we want to eat,
no one to ask,
everything sounding good.

Thunder hits again.

The hush left to whisper
between lips,
******* in air.

It’s enough to make you mad.

The rain doesn’t wait.
The lightning
not knowing where to begin.

Hunger waits for release.

I am the moment
that waits for you

in-between
Vitæ May 18
The cold end of a knife

is a hail storm—

a biting reminder

of why one cut

runs deeper than disaster.

How loud

each thundering heartbeat!

How silent

the fall of a thousand fears.

When your body

is inside the eye of a storm

long enough

for each howl to cut through

everything, then

you’ll know how to breathe

out without bleeding.

When you're free

of all the things you have seen,

come outside—

the wind

is a dance of good things.

Soft, unsharpened things.

Things that do not ask

to be survived.
MetaVerse May 17
$?

Rolls through the valley
A May storm with itchy *****—
What price bonobos?

After the Rain,
as the raindrops,
hits the ground,
is so soothing, and
relaxing,
such a wonderful sound,
to me, it's sleeping weather,
being inside is
so much better, because
of such a long drought,
there is no point in going out,
unless you have to,
on the contrary,
it is better to stay inside,
since there is no skies of blue, and
there is No Sunshine,
to Brighten your day,
but Rain clouds instead,
Filled with Skies of gray,
So, if you want my opinion,
to avoid the feeling of dread,
avoid the inclement-like weather, and
Just stay in bed!!!


B.R.
Date: 5/14/2025
Contemplation

I find myself sitting here for a moment, gathering my thoughts like fragile treasures in my hands, collecting my heart as it stretches across the night sky. I carve out a sanctuary where I can discover a bit of solitude and tranquility. I inscribe my faith onto this page, creating a space for reflection.

I write a name that brings serenity to my weary mind—a name that envelops me in peace: God. This peace fortifies me against the relentless pressures of a life that sometimes feels foreign to me.

Even now, I struggle to fully understand how living with PTSD has transformed my mind. At times, I find clarity, while at other moments, simply existing feels overwhelming. Yet one truth remains clear: I have weathered storms before, and during those trials, God stood by my side. Even in uncharted territories, he is already there, waiting.

He was with me when my world felt like it was collapsing, bursting apart from within, and he remains with me now. So, I take a few more deep breaths, pondering the depth of his love for us. How can it be that he loves us so beyond measure? Yet, he does.

-Rhia Clay
CS Modei May 6
Pitter-patter
Pitter-patter
I listen to the rain fall down
Pitter-patter
Pitter-patter
What a delightful sound
Absolutely terrible storms in Minnesota recently, so here's a poem about the beauty I find in the rain. Enjoy!
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