There is a storm approaching, it has been rumbling all day (to be revised at some point, possibly)


The Storm


The storm comes rolling in, it has been threatening
our sultry air causing friction and the early mistral
sets doors banging on their hinges,
I feel unhinged, not myself, all I want
is cool air, falling over my skin,
I walk around, scantily clad, wanting breath
that is cool, to wing its feathered fronds
not this endless tickle that bites
so I slap at imaginary midges and mosquito's.
The storm is coming, I hear it as it clapped
last night, the window catches are banging
my heart clanging, I wonder if the sash will hold,
I wonder when I wandered in the midnight heat,
if that bolt will aim for me and will I mind,
would I really care, to be struck, my naked self
just a silhouette etched into the parched grass,
no-one would know, for I would be dust
as the dust flies around us, sticking
making sneezes and eyes to water, unexplained tears.
The storm is coming, it is rolling in here,
I close doors, bring in cushions
and wonder who will cushion me.



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2013-07-21 at 20:36

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countryfog
I suspect that storms affect us no differently than they did our ancient ancestors, emotions encoded no doubt for self-preservation but too I think for a necessary sense of awe and fear, wonder and reflection. Here storms are not to be taken lightly, racing unimpeded across the flat and open plains to the prairie. I have been in tornadoes and typhoons and of all the emotions one feels is perhaps most the sense of experiencing the timeless repetition of something that has always been and will always be more powerful than any defenses we may devise.
2013-07-22



The storm seems to hit a primal chord, terrifies and awes, and in this poem, reduces your world to you and the storm, alone, together. Elemental.
2013-07-22


Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Makes one feel the storm nearing.
Ominously severe.
2013-07-22