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Breed

I am a whisper rustling through the trees
I am the ripple of a pebble in a stream 
I am the ember of a funeral pyre
I am the guilt of forbidden desire
I am the rumble of distant thunder
I am the elusive winning number
I am the clown with a broken smile
I am the letter at the bottom of the pile
I am the words that will never be spoken
I am the promise that is sure to be broken
I am the wa...

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breedbroken smiledemonsforbidden desiresfuneral pyresgutterthunderwinning number

Winter Town

This is my vision of a certain cast of English village (not so much in springtime).

Winter Town

 

March winds stir listless eddies,

fluke in tired gusts over thin pools,

flare through fields of stubble

then flag, exhausted, sour and wheezing

from the blowing day;

coughing, rubbing arthritic fingers,

cold as a church bell sounds the hours.

 

Spring will be late this...

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arthriticexhaustedMarchmemoriesmonochromemournerssingingstormsstubblesun-filledthunder

A thought from last night

The rolling waves of thunder rumble through surrey’s silent hills

Like a ripple of a wave upon the sea’s shore

This deafening clap of anger tortures through dense air for thrills

But why? Can we be so sure?

Could this be a God who is fuming with mankind?

Or the Earth perhaps is signalling there is something on her mind.

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thunder

Storm

entry picture

I tend to soak up life
When nothing is going right
Like the rise of the sun
To the dark abyss of night

There’s a grisly storm coming this way
Leaving a carnage of wrecked hearts
I wasn’t prepared for the bad weather
No shelter can protect me from this

Clouds cracking with electricity
The rain feels like tiny needles against my skin
Safe Harbor is out of sight
There’s no escape from this

...

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rainfallstormthunder

Into The Wilderness

Into the Wilderness

 

Into the wilderness we went. Edhweirft and Hwyrflung swirled above us, blowing and bustling through the treetops. Watching. Threatening. But maintaining a safe distance as the trees protected us

 

Scrunch

Crack

Squelch

Scrunch

Crack 

Squelch

... we went, as the gloam drew in. Druuuuuin!! Closer. Druuuuuuuuiiiiinnnn!!!!! Closer. It hugs, this gloa...

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Alice In WonderlanddangerdestructionfractalsjabberwockLewis CarrolllighteningnatureNonsensenonsense verserainthundertreesweatherwildernesswindwoods

STORM FRONT

entry picture

Away in the distance on a cold dreary night,

the horizon is lit by flickering lights.

Storm clouds as black as the darkest heart

and lightning tears the very air apart.

 

A grumbling mass of swirling bile,

the silence, the earth, the night to defile.

Like distant portents of desolate doom,

sorry shadows of a dusk too soon.

 

The dull silhouette of the thunderheads mas...

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CLOUDSHAILSTONESLIGHTNINGRAINSTORMTHUNDERWIND

The Last March

He sits on the front porch, And just closes his eyes. As the clouds gather over his head, And lightning flashes across the skies. His mind reverts; Back to all of yesterday's severed ties, He can hear in the distance, The faint murmur of muffled sobs and cries. His lips move not; his speech has since died, His eyes however, remain ever pensive. And even a cursory g...

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bloodeyes.lastlightningmarchraintearsThethunder

baptised

entry picture

baptised

the air is crackling
with anticipation
a gentle breeze
of humid ghosts
dances through
the open door

thunder rolls
and tumbles
like an epileptic
acrobat
across the muddy
thunderheads

a still foreboding
settles here amidst a
Tuesday clutter
of unfinished tasks
to watch the growling
climax of the sky

and when it comes
it splashes dark
from the bullet drop
that i...

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electric stormforeboding. delugerainthunder

Thunder

entry picture

 

To allow the thunder to strike me

I must dismiss it

And retaliate

With silence not fear

 

Mustn’t let my ears fool my heart

Into fooling my head

 

I’ll let the vibration take me

For now

 

While the heat pushes the air

To my ears

From afar

Now that’s what I call Music

 

 

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lightningpoemThunder

Hymn both Ancient and Modern

entry picture

Written on June 1st 2011 as an assignment based on the Calendar, set by John Cassidy for Bank Street Writers, Bolton.

 

O God of Sun, on Sunnandaeg,

I worship thee with spray -on bronze,

Because thy workload is quite big,

There’ll be a lot of wet week-ends.

 

God of the Moon, on Monandaeg,

I offer thee my hangover,

Last night I was a lunatic,

Oh I am deep...

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