Composed 4/6/16
Description: A belated entry for Day 5 of NaPoWriMo. Apparently I am destined to push these out in twos… Anyway, it started raining.
Wind sweeps through and the raindrops hit
Hard against windows
The branches moan and thunder booms
That ominous crescendo
Which sends little creatures scurrying away
In fear of unknown peril
Yet I stare out into the storm and sigh
And press my cheek into a pillow
Composed 7/17/15
Description: n/a
We looked out the window and laughed
At the storm
As rain poured down and umbrellas bobbed desperately
We stayed dry
But this was small mercy
The last time we would laugh
At the world
Before the world
Overtook us
Composed 6/8/15
Description: n/a
The howls of the lonely call to me
They groan in the thunder
They sigh in the sea
They tap at my window and long for me
As if I could ever set them free
Composed 8/21/14
Description: n/a
A silence you don’t remember
Until the hushed rush rolls across the fields
A wall of waterfalls washes against your window
And deafens with its roar
Composed 4/28/14
Description: (Day 28 of NaPoWriMo as promised) I hope it storms tonight….
A calmness settles in the air
‘til lightning strikes and static flares
I feel the build in every hair
and jump when thunder booms and scares
Of its power I’m well aware
And yet this brings me no despair
I am cautious, I do beware
But its wonder leads me to stare
I laugh and curl up in my chair
and sit and watch within my lair
The view is better with a pair
Encourage the storm if you dare
Composed 5/15/13
Description: A personal piece based on recent events and revelations. I ended up experimenting a little more with symbolism in this one. It will be interesting to see what you all think of it!
I sit next to my cinnamon tornado
Less thunderous now that I’m not coating him
In my usual mix of hot and cold
Though the console’s stockpile of
Fragrant tobacco might be
The origin of his placid breeze
We’re separated by all that
Smoke
Evidenced by his words
Like agnostic and don’t give a shit
And drunk
And though cinnamon is fine
Delicious
In small doses
I know I could never tolerate a mouthful
But through all that smoke
Between us
I still see him
Depression and laughter and
Brilliance and madness
All that debris
Twisting around inside him
Perhaps, come winter,
There will be less tobacco
Less wind
Less cinnamon
Less smoke
Scraps of Paper 