storm

The Flame of Burnt Brandy

 

 

She was a Corpse Reviver No.1:

sweeter than her name

with a punch that would leave my head reeling
in the morning. There were lit candles
that smelled like apples and
honey. I breathed in the burnt fruit like it was the first time

I pressed my face to her neck.

Outside the leaves blew against the window

with the incoming storm; inside, my fingers

pressed into the pillow on my lap with
every word she whispered,
offhanded adjectives trailing through the foyer

to mingle with the dust on the baseboards.

It wasn't until the air stood silent that the house roared with age,

neglected after so many years. I stood

and felt the tingle of electricity in the air,

my bare feet grounding me

to the radiance of her alter. Nouns dribbled over my lips

like daisy petals plucked and dropped

under our yew tree. It was then that she rose

her blackened fingertips to my cheek

and let me cradle her absence.


View c.locke's Full Portfolio

Sea Glass

 

 

Knob kneed and pale,
I glow
before the waves with toes painted green

like the world through a piece of sea glass, my vision hazed and

calm. Your thumb presses my fingers

like the tactile press of a keyboard's

steps towards the fully formed sentences

I can't quite seem to finish. The storm on the horizon

is electrifying. It drowns out my breath with each rumble

echoing over the waves and we know we should leave,

move to safety,

but the water is the most intense

shade of you.

 

 

 

 

View c.locke's Full Portfolio

The Sound of the Seagulls Above the Wind

 

 

Seagulls voiced their need

for the crisp winds of early spring to

warm into air worth their spread wings and

readiness to fly. We stood

with the sand stinging the backs of our claves

and our hair in our faces

deciding if it was worth daring

to dip our toes in the waves.

The view from the shore was tremendous. Still,

all oceans criticize the scope of their onlookers and

I was no different, casting sidelong glances

over the foam collecting at its edges like great scars

left from when the surf and land met,

my skin recoiling against the sea spray.

But you –

you spread out your arms like an egret spreads its wings and

I swear I saw you fly. 



View c.locke's Full Portfolio

Corruption In The Mind

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Corruption In The Mind

 

Trees get uprooted

Roofings of dwellings destroyed

Still impenitent—








That Stormy Night

That stormy night,


You held me really tight,


Dark like coal was the atmosphere,


The fuming sound we could only hear!


 

Yes nature was furious,


It like Hulk looked rather dangerous,


Our home emerged like Noah’s ark!


During that night, scary and dark.


 

Through the night we called one name only,

 

It was none but the Omnipresent Almighty!

View kingofwords's Full Portfolio
tags:

Rain

Quench the thirst of dying Earth
Great chasms of interlocking spider-webbed
fractures platforming horizon. 
Sun blistered and writhing. 
Free your brittle skeleton 
wrought 
and sandblasted.
Snarling hiss of wind ripped barren.
Your Freedom exists
swelling within the infinite timeless power
of thunderbolt storm-cloud rain-dance.
Quench the thirst of dying Earth 
  penetrate each bliss-filled fiber
Thirsting endlessly for their saving grace.
Never forever.
Then up the spout again.   
View beatnik1979's Full Portfolio

Of A Woman Named Rain

Eyes closed.

 

The distant sound of lazy, rolling waves caresses your ears. You're no stranger to patterns and repetition, but the predictable noise of the tide is somehow different, somehow comforting.

 

Inhaling deep breaths of salty air that carries the song of no responsibilities or cares, you revel deeply in the foreign sensation of utter tranquility. 

 

A bird calls from somewhere nearby and it shakes you only slightly from this dream like reverie.

 

A perfect escape.

 

You find yourself humming along to the tune of the breeze as it playfully ruffles your hair; the thought of sangria crosses your mind for a brief moment, but drinks are best for leaving the office behind.

 

And right now, you're in paradise,

no liquor required.

 

You stretch sore muscles, still stiff from sitting in that damned chair for what feels like days on end. The warm tropical air seems to breathe life back into a weary body.

 

Your shoulders momentarily shudder. The weight of your normal life unexpectedly seeps in like an unwanted visitor.

 

Guilt.

 

You fumble and struggle to push it out of your mind and refocus again on the warmth of the midday sun against your face.

 

Outside of this place, there's a storm. A relentless hurricane that batters against stability; torrential rains pound against buildings and flooded streets keep you trapped in that  office.

 

It's a dreary and abysmal existence.

 

If you think hard enough, you can recall a time when the sun would shine bright, and the sky was an endless sea of the richest blue.

When birds chirped melodies and the trees gladly borrowed  shade with leafy green palms.

 

Yet what once was life in technicolor gave way to dismal greyscale, and soon the rains came. What was supposed to be a season stretched on for uncomfortable lengths, and one day  you realized the storm was here to stay.

 

The relentless showering of water upon rooftops, and the continual howling of angry wind was enough to drive a man mad.

 

Yet you'd caught glimpses of the sun a few times- the briefest moment when the blanket of sullen grey cracked, and for those few seconds, hope was renewed.

 

Hope that the sun may yet shine again, that the birds may return; the only memories of the storm now collecting in raindrops rolling off their feathers.

 

It wasn't much, but it kept you holding on, and that's when you stumbled upon the secret place. A hidden corner of the world, somehow untouched by the storm outside.

 

It was the best and worst thing you could have discovered.

 

Each visit was a small slice of paradise, a break from watery misery, but your footprints tracked muddy reminders of bleak reality every time you entered. You feined ignorance but couldn't turn a blind eye to what was happening.

 

White sands, gradually staining with the murky darkness of the storm.

 

So often you mused to yourself if this place was your savior, or ultimate damnation.

For as pleasant and relaxing as it was, the nagging guilt of leaving others outside  as you indulged in relief left you walking back into the downpour with your head down,  and heart heavy.

 

It was impossible to tell if this tropical escape was necessary for staying your sanity, or if it was only a matter of time before it too fell prey to the swallowing blackness looming on the doorstep.

 

Only the roaming hands on the clock face of life could know the answer you searched for. And if you were honest with yourself, nothing else could quite compare to the way this beachy escape could make you feel. It stirred a long dormant part of you awake, and to lose this secret cove could feel like severing a lifeline.

 

You needed this.

 

For a man can only take so much mud and water squelching in his shoes before he slips under the same floods that have claimed so many before him.

 

"Perhaps, just perhaps, ignorance truly is bliss"

 

With renewed clarity, you dig your toes beneath warm sands  while the seagulls call, and a smile of contentment settles on your face.

 

When the breeze blows just right,

 

and the waves crash in tune,

 

you can nearly drown out the sound of the wailing winds behind you.

 

 

Stormy Night

Last night did enter the forceful wind,


Defying the window blind,


I could feel the gush of cold air,


Along with the splash of tiny droplets there.


 

Near the window,


I could not but go,


I thought I was the winner,


Defeating the fierce nature!


 

Coming back to the bed again,


The very thought of rain plagued my brain!

View kingofwords's Full Portfolio
tags:

The Fight of Two

The constant storm,

I dread of it

First it's still,

And then it's hit

 

I happy thee,

Friendly among them

But lies I find,

So, have I, sprung condemn

 

Oh! It lies, it lies!

It knows not what of me

The deceit it brings,

Transforms all to she!

 

I understand not,

of all these deceits

But understand this,

with all, shall come defeats!

View krixano's Full Portfolio