As I stand, a poet in an ocean of words,
Unspoken feelings, unheard verses surge.
What is this craft, this calling to write?
Is it light for others or my own plight?
I pen the tales of others, the struggles they bear,
Yet each word I write is a weight I wear.
To live, to serve, to break free from norm,
A poet’s life—a perpetual storm.
......
I always thought storm chasers
were a little crazy
these men with cameras
and beater cars
driving into the middle of nowhere
to chase an impending disaster.
Their faces would be split with a smile
almost drunk with pleasure
as they maneuvered their car across fields
and roads
......
On this new day the sky is mad
darkness seems to doom all man.
The clouds far up away from this land,
all of life seems to have ran.
Soaring along with the mourning lark,
while all the world is shrouded in dark.
Through the door my spirit flies,
and up unto the Heaven's high.
During the rainy days, I'll step outside
When the sky is dark and no people in sight
To get drenched in the rain
And feel the rain drops
I will walk until the rain stops
To see the pits filled with water
In the puddle I'll try to find,
The reflection of you I have in my mind.
In the puddles, fleeting glimpses, a smile, a touch, a goodbye.
......
Patrick, Pearl and Phillip were fond siblings, in halcyon days of fairy tales;
Long beloved of Mother and Father, like beloved ballads of all nightingales.
Father was a successful tailor, creating finest clothes for women and men;
And they dwelled in a village near the river, in teal days of now and then.
Mother sold elegant embroidery, quite pretty, and often much in demand;
Like unforgettable, sunset rainbows, the anon recurring, prismatic bands.
Pearl and her siblings frolicked in the fecund fields, with finest of friends;
......
Along With The Thunder
Along with the Thunder
came Tempestas, goddess of storms
turtle doves scattered on
corrugated roof, grey feathers flying when glimpsing her fierce amber countenance
this is time of rattling cracked panes
loose screws
when weather ruled, seemingly profane
warmonger wind howls or laughs
......
During the rainy days, I'll step outside
When the sky is dark and no people in sight
To get drenched in the rain
And feel the rain drops
I will walk until the rain stops
To see the pits filled with water
In the puddle I'll try to find,
The reflection of you I have in my mind.
In the puddles, fleeting glimpses, a smile, a touch, a goodbye.
......
As I stand, a poet in an ocean of words,
Unspoken feelings, unheard verses surge.
What is this craft, this calling to write?
Is it light for others or my own plight?
I pen the tales of others, the struggles they bear,
Yet each word I write is a weight I wear.
To live, to serve, to break free from norm,
A poet’s life—a perpetual storm.
......
In mountains high and rivers wide,
Nature speaks, no truth to hide.
It bends, it breaks, but it endures,
Through storms and rains, its heart secure.
Look to the earth, O soul of mine,
In its resilience, God’s grace shines.
A life of trials, yet peace it brings,
Nature whispers the wisdom of kings.
......
Polly Astley loved to have visitors, for she loved piquant, plum people;
Like counting stars when we were young, in milky moonlight, peaceful.
Her days were spent teaching children, with faces perky as sunflowers,
When redbirds danced in jade treetops, viewed by folk on lunch hours.
Polly loved the parties and get togethers, that she frequently attended;
Like red rhododendron and rose revelry, in scented gardens, extended.
Sukey Sykes was Polly's friend, and also roommate, sharing expenses;
......