A Grain in the Wind

Across the desert the wind storms through. Grains of sand cloud the air, hazing over the endless plain. Tiny in size, they unite to form an obliterating deadly force. They swirl, each in their own direction, but still maintain unanimity. Indistinguishable yet individual. Some grains travel miles with a single gust and others never budge. All are unique, which is to say that none of them are.


Once again the wind storms through. I feel the sand begin to prick the back of my neck. Voyaging through the desert, I must choose my own path. Where will the wind take me? 

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Simple Thoughts
"Wind chimes,
dazzling across the room
sweet sounds of wood
drumming against wood. 
Bamboo shafts,
making soft thuds
float to me,
the soft breeze
picking up
to send me
an epiphany of noise,
a realization of music
played by no one.
the musician who plays me this rhyme,
the symphony 
of the Ocean waves,
crashing onto the beach
played by the rustling,
green leaves
with each tree,
swaying back and forth
in dance.
In step,
waltzing across the dancefloor
of my mind
a orchestra of noise
turned into high tunes,
afternoon desires
grow like blossoming petals;
slow to open.
a sight to see,
smell when finished,
the flower 
of all the sounds surrounding me
this southern Summer Saturday
comes together
to soothe me away
into a lull,
a state of mind
I wish to hold on to,
while I can.
Before Monday."
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Windchimes are wild.

Sleeping On The Rock

The winter winds whistle by from bay and sea, as if aggressively making love to one another much like we used to do. A memory that fades while a blackout swallows the light within me. The A train rumbles loudly and shakes the foundation of my home like your touch once shook my world. This stillness brings no rest. I get half asleep. Everything is done halfway now. I am half of what I once was. You were a Sandy-esque hurricane that blew me away only to leave me as scrap and rubble as I struggle to sleep on a Far Rock. 

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Often I feel like fire,
With a soul overrun by desire
The flames, orange and red,
Destroy everything in their tread.

Then again I become air,

Although the silence is more than I can bare,
But, it sends away every little thing
And nothing can resist it's blowing.

So, maybe I'm more like the ground
Trustworthy and full of sound.
Though hard and cold are not me,
I feel as close as a flower to a bee.

Alas, like water I am liquid
Everything transpires as I am limpid,
But, because all flows away
I never know what really should stay.

What I am I do not know
But, I sure hope it does show
That I am giving it my all
To be everything in total.

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The square root of a kiss is a hum

I hum under my breath

When i contemplate the drum of your heart

My heart beats with the pulse

I revel in the whisper

that lifts me like the wind

An instrument in tune

with you

My love is the wind's slave

and thus is free

My love is the wind that is shaped as it passes

through the lips of earthly vessels

into words of freedom

My love is the winds song:

I am the earths imagination wandering

I seep through the cracks

explore the unseen

I ripple the grass

and move life

My love is my souls dedication

How do I love thee





Author's Notes/Comments: 

I found this in a notebook, i wrote it a long time kay. I thought it was pretty good.

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The wind has got shapes, many,

At times it blows gently,

At times it turns mad,

At times it behaves like being sad!


It touches almost all,

None can ever call,

It shameless and arrogant as such,

Since it’s the wind’s nature to touch.


The friendly wind makes the tree-leaves dance in celestial joy,

Touched by the crazy wind, the maiden orders sari being coy!

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Painted in the Canvas

Just a thought!
Streaming through a sun swept field, Tethered ballerinas dancing in the wind
Waves of iridescent colors blow across a sea of refracted cotton candy.
Never a sweeter breeze, I could wisp it round a cone and taste it's allure.

As a choreographed ballet sways with balance and perfection, sunlight glistens

through silken shawls while a few lace ribbons float around with the wind.

Natures creations in full bloom, petals fluttering up a wind song as the breeze

whistles through bouquets of timeless beauty. Kneeling at the edge rows,

the wind rustles through my long silky hair; I become part of the symphony.

Immersed in this wondrous creation... I am forever, painted in the canvas.


by Barry Anderson


Author's Notes/Comments: 

#1Beauty in a field of flowers

 #2"You're always a part of the picture, sometimes needing a bigger one as you look back."




Wind is Like a Ghost!

Wind is like a congenial ghost,

That gets dominant the most,

As much as it does touch,

The leaves, mountains, paddy fields, humans as such.

The wind moves like the hollow man,

None sees it; none ever can,

Shows its power,

During norwester.


The wind continues to work ceaselessly,

Touching all of us so lovingly.

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Symphony Of The Elements

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Wherever rain and sun,
wind and mother earth
work in a symphony of unity
to swell a fruit with juice,
there is divine ambrosia.

-saiom shriver-

Hopefully, the juice of the
fruit is free of insecticides,
not dependent on slave labor.

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